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Poetry Short Stories The Birth of -Gatlin

I am the vampire, gatlin.  I am a newborn, still within my first year of being
reborn into the night.  I am still weak, yes I know, but I have my inteligence.
That is how I killed the one who wanted me to call him master.  I had set a trap 
for him, but that is a story for another time.  For now, I only introduce myself.

I could tell you a little.  Like when I was born.  I had been taken near dawn, 
and was also discovered then.  I was lying in an alley of a little city called 
Ottawa.  

They tried to save me, but I died shortly after arriving at the hospital.

My loving family had me buried.  No wake.  No funeral.  They just wanted me in 
ground.  I was the black sheep of the family you see.  Always the trouble maker.
The one who they all looked down upon and was said to never exist.  I showed them.

I awakened with the night, and feeling only the thirst within my viens.  That 
burning sensation that pulsated through my chest.  I felt it so venomously.  I 
wanted to just tear at my viens and eyes.

Instead I tore at the wood of the coffin.  It had no lining in it, it was only wood,
and it tore away into my hands like nothing, and before I knew it I was pulling 
clumps of moist dirt into my coffin.

When I had escaped...