“Are you sure I'm interviewing the right person?” Asked the interviewer through the microphone on her blouse signaling with her hand to cut the cameras. "This teenage girl couldn't possibly be …” she added. She looked again at the person before her, blinking twice to make sure she wasn’t imagining. Up on the chair bounced a petite teenage girl, smiling charmingly. She seemed ordinary to the interviewer — beautiful to be sure, but ordinary; nothing but grayed hair to signify Jaunee's true age. The cameraman nodded his approval; it was her. She had a chiseled heart-shaped face, almost symmetric, and her skin was of pale complexion, without blemish. As she was drawn by a master artist rather than born. Were it not for the sadness in her eyes, and the worry-lines around her lips anyone could easily mistake her for fantasy in flesh. She however was very much alive and trying her best to put on a show.
“So ah, Jaunee …” The interviewer began nervously, sipping a glass of water.
“Yes Ma’am” replied Jaunee with a slight French accent.
“You’re the world’s smartest woman according to the Guinness book of records.” The interviewer said.
“So I've been told,” Jaunee replied with a confident smile.
“And that you're a scientist, a philanthropist and ah …” The interviewer sighed nervously.
“A thousand-year-old monster? It’s okay. You can say it.” Jaunee completed the interviewer’s sentence.
“You don't look like a monster,” the interviewer replied awkwardly.
“And I’m not really. I’m just not human but once we get past that, you’ll see I'm just like a regular person. I mean, I love coffee in the morning, I do yoga … I’ve also been alive for a very long, long time.” Jaunee said cheerfully, trying to dispel the tense feeling in the air. She could hear the rapid heartbeat of both the interviewer and the cameraman; hear their frightened little thoughts; smell the fear and a dark part of her loved it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She must remain here and now, it's her only chance.
“So you're immortal?” Asked the interviewer, trying to dispel the tension in the air as well.
“Not for long,” replied Jaunee with even tones, hiding her own fears of what she had just admitted. She was dying and there wasn’t much left for her to do, except this … finish what her step-father had begun but never been able to complete.
“Would you care to elaborate?"
"About my health? Non. Suffice to say that even the immortal, the powerful and the wise cannot elude the touch of death forever. And I have still more to accomplish before I have drunk my fill of the cup of life." Jaunee said then brightened up and added in more cheerful tones "So…You've got yourself an immortal who has lived for a thousand years, willing to talk. Are we going to talk about my health, favorite cinematics or about stuff that matters?
"I don't think the audience has ever heard the story of people living for thousands of years.” The interviewer said.
"Exactly" Jaunee added.
"Why is that?" The interviewer asked in calmer tones, excitement replacing fear.
“Well … in our society, secrecy is an imperative. It is the one law which we all abide by. You see there’s a lot the public doesn't know; whole worlds hidden from your eyes. It’s like the mother of all conspiracies and just about everyone in power is involved. I’m a dead person just by talking to you, but I’m dying anyway so, you know…” Jaunee explained getting exited herself.
“So is this why you're doing this, confessing, breaking the rules, telling us mortals what's really going on?” The interviewer asked.
“No actually, you see, in every past instance where — let’s call us the others. I mean, you’ll probably call us supernatural, but we’re not really supernatural. Anyhow, whenever we tried it in the past, it always escalated into a war.”
“Whenever you tried revealing the truth?” The interviewer asked.
“Oui, whenever anyone tried to reveal the truth; to create a different society, it just didn't work. Humanity can be left-wing liberal until it realizes it’s not at the top of the food chain. The only time you’ll see the whole of humanity come together for a joint cause is when one of us tries to make contact on a grand scale. Swords are drawn and blood is spilled, ours and yours. Besides, it’s not like humanity or the others are unified. In many ways we are just as diverse as you are. There is no single government, or a single belief system. Most humans would have us all destroyed to maintain the dominance of their species, regardless of the benefits peace offers. I'm sure you can well-imagine how diversity and power conjoin and then escalate into chaos and war,” Jaunee said.
“So why are you doing this now; escalating the whole world into chaos? Didn't you say you're a peace-loving creature before this interview?” The interviewer asked, angry and frustrated at what she was hearing. A creeping thought entered her head: ‘when the interview is over – destroy the recordings and report this dying teenage girl to someone, anyone. With all due respect to professional integrity, she's not about to throw the stone that would open World War III, just to satisfy her professional pride. A large part of her wanted to disbelieve what she was hearing, and she began to rationalize herself. It's a hoax, orchestrated by a seventeen-year-old girl.
"I sympathize with your feelings, truly." Jaunee said sadly "However this is no hoax, it's real. I'm not seventeen or seventy or even seven hundred for that matter." Jaunee replied to the thoughts in Daina's head. In turn the interviewer's expression turned to that of a frightened mouse.
"Please calm down Ma'am, I had to demonstrate Siddhi, what you would call magic to prove the validity of my claim. I assure you. You will leave this interview very much alive and in good health." Jaunee said and Daina calmed down, transfixed by Jaunee's eyes. 'I will leave this interview very much alive' she repeated in her mind.
"Where was I?" Daina asked.
"You were asking why I'm doing this interview, telling the world what's really going on." Jaunee replied.
"Right, I kind of lost my train of thought for a moment, thanks….so why did you?" Daina asked.
“I was hiding in plain sight, with that whole ‘World's smartest person’ routine. But the fact of the matter is that we are not alone; as in humans are far from being the only sapient species out there. And some things are uninterested in emancipation, peace or even world domination,” Jaunee replied.
“So you're telling us this in preparation for … the apocalypse?” The interviewer asked.
“It doesn't have to escalate that far. My step-father Raymond; he wrote a Journal as a way to reveal us to the general public — to show that there is no reason to panic; we've lived alongside of you since the dawn of mankind and you're all still here thriving. He believes humanity is mature enough to know the truth.” Jaunee explained.
“Wait, are you implying we’ll be causing the apocalypse?” Daina asked, deeply troubled.
“Once you know what's going on, with your advanced weaponry, you hold the power and the responsibility to make a difficult choice.” Jaunee explained.
"What choice is that?" She asked.
"Will you destroy us, then be destroyed by what may come next, or will you stand with us, bravely forging a future. We have so much to offer…I have so much to offer. I can open new horizons for scientific and medical advancement. I can teach you so many things that were lost to the pages of history. I've been to places you couldn't even imagine. The children of Adam and Lilith can finally forge a covenant together. Resolving strife born before our days in the sun. We could have peace!" Jaunee said passionately, and concentrated deeply. While she hated manipulating minds, there was too much at stake. For this to work, the interviewer had to focus on the positive.
[Adam…Eve…Lilith…is the bible true?]
“Wait, Adam, Lilith? That’s from the bible. Are they real? I mean, is the bible true?” Daina asked, ignoring Jaunee’s focused gaze and the sweat streaming down her brow.
“Finally a good question.” Jaunee Began, “Some revelations are true, but they were given to primitive men. You couldn’t really explain the Universe, Quantum Physics and Advanced Medicine to people who barely know how to start a fire. So you tell them you come from the sky, tell them to be good people, not to murder and steal and to rest every few days. God or Gods exist, It or They are superior beings who desire the wellbeing of inferior lifeforms, like you humans show compassion to dogs and cats, but in a more sophisticated way.”
“What about Adam, Eve, Buddha, you know?” Diana asked, trying to understand where science and faith come together.
“Some of them are real, though like Greek Mythology fact, parable and fiction came together to form myriad ideas, some of them reflecting the culture of the time, others universal truths.” Jaunee replied.
“What about magic?” Diana asked.
“Manipulation of the self, others or the environment through ritual or act of will, entirely possible. Shooting fireballs from your fingertips, more of a Hollywood fab.” Jaunee replied.
“How do I know any of this is true?” Diana asked.
“You conduct research.” Jaunee replied.
“Very well, can I ask you about Raymond? He was killed, was he not? Where was your magic then?” The interviewer asked bluntly.
“Oui, he was; and I couldn’t save him. I’m not all-powerful you know…” Jaunee replied sadly.
“Will you tell us about it?” The interviewer asked. Jaunee took a deep breath, trying to maintain concentration despite the throbbing migraine and she wondered; would she get to finish the tale, or would she die here, tonight, being interviewed by the media. It was something she’d longed to do for decades now; tell the truth. In the end, she knew, this interviewer would be left with a terrible choice; a burden few could handle.
Not long ago my stepfather died, and on that day Benny approached our house carefully, avoiding dry leaves and twigs carefully with his feet, as he’d been trained. Covering his army gear, wore black camouflage trousers, a shirt and a long coat. It was the middle of the night, and everyone had retired to the safety of their homes. They did not realize that we, my stepfather and I, had made our home amongst them, pretending to be human. The settlement which my father chose to call home was nested in a secluded location, far from any major city. Small houses and caravans coexisted amongst a natural forest which predated the settlement. Raymond, my stepfather had loved the countryside settings while I … I loved Raymond, and so chose to share his home before my own demise.
As far as the killer of my father was concerned, this was the ideal place for monsters to make their home. As he made his way to our home, his heart raced, pounding in his ears. He felt alive now for the first time since his brother died. The freezing November wind, and even the heavy fog, hindering sight, and giving the settlement a haunted look did not deter the killer. He was determined to finish the task he had started earlier that night. He would find, and kill, me too.
Benny was approximately thirty years old. His features would have been handsome had he not neglected himself. A few years ago, before his brother died, he was quite popular with the ladies. His résumé included service as a sniper, later an officer in the army and later still a career as a police detective. The man was smart; one might even say a genius. He was clever, fast and strong, coming from a successful military family. As a result of the many blessings bestowed upon him, he was not used to failure. He was not used to losing. He was not used to not getting what he wanted. His brother's death and the police investigation leading nowhere was the first time the rising star experienced the darkness of this world, and it fractured him.
Unable to cope with the loss, our hero decided to crack the case and bring the murderer to justice, and so like a man possessed, he made his own inquiries leaving no stone unturned. It is uncertain exactly when this possessed hunter discovered the existence of supernatural creatures in the world. I would assume a young and weak creature got careless and made their existence known to Benny. That was likely the first time the detective had killed something not human.
How he came about the knowledge of my father's existence is beyond me. Why he would then spend a few years tracking down my father to kill him is even a greater mystery. I would assume that either Benny came to the conclusion that we are all monsters, and my father is one of many. Or worse, he believed my father is the killer of his brother, the one he was truly after.
Regardless of the choices which led him this far, he was determined to invade our home and slay anyone residing there. The fallen hero drew his gun and checked the magazine for ammunition. He holstered his gun again and made sure the leather holster was supple enough and ready for a quick draw. He then made sure his Kevlar vest was securely fastened, and that his grenades were all where they should be – within easy arm’s reach. Ski-mask on, he carefully made way to the seemingly abandoned house.
The house was slightly larger than the rest and as the sniper approached; his trained eye spotted hidden cameras nesting amongst the trees surrounding the house. They were all made useless as he sabotaged the power-supply prior to making his assault. There could be no mistakes as far as Detective Straus was concerned. He was a mere mortal, and I, an ancient and powerful monster. He knew without a doubt that even the tiniest of mistakes would lead to his inevitable demise. Part of him longed for that outcome. Part of him longed to be free of the hatred, the pain, worry and sorrow that his chosen lifestyle had brought to his life. Secretly he yearned to die, but not before he took as many of us with him to the grave as possible.
Entry through the door seemed impossible — it was too sturdy and the lock too advanced. Cold nitrogen proved an efficient tool in breaking the window bars. He was inside the house within moments, silent like a trained assassin. He carefully drew his gun and prepared for what might come: I would awaken; I am already awake; I would sense him. Luckily for him the worst had yet to happen.
The mortal man strained to hear something — anything, but the living room was as silent as a grave. The furniture was hand-carved, not that prefabricated junk everybody seems to fancy nowadays. Everything appeared to be orderly and clean, and it was hard for anyone to believe century-old monsters lived in this house. For an instant our hero paused to consider the ramifications of his actions, and the choices that lead him down this bloody path.
This is not how this once proud man envisioned his life. When he grew up he wanted to be an air-force pilot. He never once even imagined that at the age of thirty, he'd be a vigilante hunter, tracking down and killing monsters, fighting some invisible war the vast majority of humanity isn't aware of, and stubbornly refused to be made aware of. The various TV shows and movies never once expressed the true horror and fear confronting what the unknown supernatural world entails: to discover that the whole of humanity is living a lie; that the fabric of society is being manipulated by alien monsters. No one could help him; he could not even share his tale without being committed to a mental hospital. He realized he was all alone; his brother dead, and not a single person in the whole wide world knew the truth and perhaps never will.
The burden of his misery was too much for him to handle. He shoved the stray thoughts away, locking them deep behind walls of hatred, pride and pain. He checked that his gun was ready to fire again.
‘No time for self-pity’, Benny reasoned. ‘It's time for the hunt’.
He checked the kitchen; it was a fancy kitchen with a professional stove and a variety of chef's cooking tools neatly organized. Then he checked the fridge — no human body parts, no unusual food stored. The detective breathed a sigh of relief. Gun leading the way, he checked the pantry to make sure petite, little me wasn't hiding there. Again, food products were neatly ordered. Nothing out of the ordinary. He checked the upstairs bedrooms. They were neatly ordered and cleaned out of any personal belongings. That was when our clever detective realized I had probably known he was coming, and made sure to leave a house dispossessed of all evidence as to our existence. He was right at something.
I made a single mistake though. In my hurry, I neglected to clear the basement floor. He found the hatch, and listened carefully for any sign of movement. Benny didn't trust his night-vision goggles well enough and had to be extra careful. The basement housed two more bedrooms, a second kitchen and plenty of storage space. It appeared to him that this was where we really lived, judging from the disarray.
The hunter was very alert now. At any moment I could jump him. He found my bedroom — a larger room with a hand-carved medieval looking bed. The room was as silent and dark as a bat cave at dawn, and he shivered realizing just how alone he was. In the darkness, no one would hear him scream. His breath quickened, and turning left behind the open door, he saw my toilette, my perfumes and makeup. Next to them was a closed bathroom door. Turning sharply right he saw my closet. He searched for me under the bed, then in the bathroom. Afterwards he opened the closet. There were a variety of dresses and sexy women's wear there. Some scarves, hats and a few too many shoes. Noting standard size, he must have realized I was really small or appear to be in my teens.
The other adjoining bedroom belongs to my late father. It housed a simple, single-sized bed, a smaller closet and a few personal belongings. The room appeared mean compared to my magnificent bedroom. It's true; Raymond settles for the bare minimums while lavishing everything a girl could ever want on me.
Obviously I wasn't hidden there either. The rest of the three bedrooms were likewise empty.
In the last room of the house, he found a writing desk with a battered old laptop on it and shelves full of books lining the walls. He checked the books and read the titles. There were some rare edition novels, but no occult books and nothing out of the ordinary. Disappointed, the hunter nearly despaired. He had gone this far, and killed a century-old butcher, only to miss his demonic daughter by a couple of hours. Silently, he prayed for a miracle, even though he was an atheist. His prayers were apparently answered by the battered laptop. As he checked the laptop he discovered it still had battery-power and no password.
Benny carefully searched the browsing history, emails; anything that would give him a hint as to my location. The computer was empty save for a few mp3s and a document entitled The Journals of Raymond Brooks; it was the last opened document. Bingo! Our hero had hit the mother lode. He reasoned that the stupid monster had left a journal, no doubt recounting the atrocities he had inflicted upon humanity.
Like a man possessed, Benny began reading the journals I had left, about his fallen adversary, hoping to find clues about my whereabouts and any other creatures such as myself. I left him there reading the journals very much alive and unharmed. It took a great deal of strength on my part to leave him still breathing after what he had done. Though I'm not a violent creature by nature, even the most docile of beings can be pushed to extremes given the proper circumstances. I know I should have killed him there and then. However, I wanted him to understand. There was a dire need in me to educate him, to make him understand what it is that he has done, who he had killed and what my father meant to me. I wanted him to know us, and so he lives, and I flew far away, perhaps losing my chance for vengeance forever.
