Markel Fischbach started out life as the second and youngest son to Jakob and Ada Fischbach, and younger brother to Johan. They lived in a small house on a farm they tended to themselves,but loved. Life was hard, and they were poor, but they made do with what they had available. In the beginning life was alright. Markell, or Mark as his family tended to call him for short, was generally a happy kid, him and his brother got along and his parents, while strict, were very loving to them. He didn’t have much as a child but that never bothered him in the slightest. He and his brother often made up stories for each other to pass the time and would sometimes act them out. They would even put on shows for Jakob and Ada on nights they finished their work early. They were happy. But those times didn’t last forever.

It was June 3rd, 1614, a few weeks before Mark turned 11. He and Johan were fooling around by a creek not too far down from their house. It had been a very wet season, with large amounts of rainfall so the creek was unusually deep, and running faster than normal. Their mother had told them not to get to close, for fear of drowning, to which they agreed, barely registering the command as they raced down to play. They had a new story that they wanted to act out for their parents and were excited to get started on it. In the story, Johan was an evil king who was trying to take over the land, and Mark, a valiant knight who was the only hope in saving the kingdom. They were practicing the fight scene, and as they fake parried and blocked using sticks they found scattered around as swords, and they weren’t paying attention to how close they had gotten to the creek. As Mark swung for the final blow to defeat the king, he lost his footing, and fell into Johan. The blow resulted in Johan tumbling backwards, and as Mark hit the ground, he heard his brother hit the water below with a loud splash.

Yelling for his brother as he stood he watched in horror as his older brother tried desperately to swim back to the side, but the current was too strong for him. It sucked him under as it carried him along. Mark ran alongside the bank, yelling for Johan to get out, and screaming for his parents. Upon hearing the commotion, Jakob and Ada ran out of the house towards them. At this point though, Johan hadn’t surfaced for a while, and the current was faster than what Mark could run. His parents reached him as he collapsed with exhaustion and despair, questioning him on what happened and where his brother was. Unable to speak through the tears, he pointed to the creek and gasped out the word “fell” before he threw himself into his mother’s chest.

That was the day Mark lost his family.

After losing their oldest son, Ada and Jakob changed forever. Ada, once a loud and compassionate woman, always with a smile on her face become withdrawn and quiet. She only spoke when spoken too, often using as few word as possible, and very rarely ever has a smile gracing her face. Her once young and beautiful complexion quickly grew wrinkles and bags that never seemed to go away. Jakob, on the other hand, grew loud and angry. Once a caring and quiet man quickly, found solace in alcohol, and anger was always the first thing on his lips. Though he never raised a hand on his wife and son, he would always have bottle in his hand as he worked, and spent the evenings in local bars and pubs until the early hours of the day. Mark couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his father sober.

Mark himself, withdrew away from life in general. He would get up, help his mother with the morning chores, before going out the help with father with the work on the land, often running back to get his father more alcohol, and taking the brunt of his anger. After he would help with dinner, do the nightly chores and then wait for his father to stumble into the house, drunk and confused, and help him into bed. It was often in these states where he would either cry over his lost son, or on some occasions, blame Mark for his death. Mark never disagreed. It was his fault anyways.

This went on for years, but once Mark was 18, did things finally start to look up. His father started to drink less during the day and his mother started to talk more. She would even smile at him, small, shy smiles but they were there. Eventually she would even start to laugh, and his father stopped drinking during the day all together. He still went out to the bar in the evening, but he wouldn’t come home as late anymore. Mark was evening coming out of himself, with his family starting to find some happiness again. Mark was finally getting his family back.

And in the early morning on June 4th, 1623, Mark lost his life.

The anniversary of Johan’s death was always the worst days, and even with his family slowing become normal again, this year was no different. Marks father started the day with a bottle of alcohol, and continued to drink all day. His mother handled it a little better than normal, but was still quiet and sad. That evening, his father stumbled home late, with bruises everywhere and blood on his face. Mark and his mother, who had decided to stay up with him waiting, were frantic, asking what happened and if he was okay. He explained he got into a brawl with another man at the pub over a seating arrangement. He had been sitting at a table when a young man walked in and demanded he move for he was “in his seat.” Naturally, and being that he was inebriated, he told the man off, that it “ain’t nobodies seat.” And turned away and went back to his drink. The man was less than pleased and tried to forcibly move Jakob, to which he promptly punched the man in the face. This started a fight between the two.

“The man was strong that’s for sure. One hit to my head and I thought I was going to pass out, and that wasn’t the booze speaking.” Jakob had retold. The man had got some good shots in on his father, but Jakob pulled out his pocket knife and managed a shot at his leg after he dodged a punch. At this point, the owner and other patrons split the two apart, the man pushed over with his friends and Jakob was told to go home. As he stumbled out he heard the man yell out to him, “You’ll pay for that disrespect old man.” Then the door closed shut.

Marks mother fussed over his father before they turned in for the night. Mark stayed up for a while though. Something had him on edge. He looked out the window of his house into the night, staring at the outline of the creek that was lit by the moon. He didn’t know how long he stood there before he shook himself out of it. It’s just because of the date he told himself. He crawled into bed, falling into a fitful sleep.

He was awoken by screaming.

He shot out of bed, running to his parent’s room at the sound of his mother’s scream. What he saw froze him to the spot.

The first thing he registered was blood. Lots of it. The sheets of his parent’s bed were dosed in it. The next thing he saw was his father’s face, staring at him, but something was wrong. His face was blank, no emotion in it, and his eyes unseeing. There was blood on his face, and as he dragged his eyes up, he saw where it was coming from.

His father’s throat has been torn out.

He was dead.

This snapped Mark out of his stupor as he quickly turned to his mother who was being held by her shoulders. A man, with dark hair and grungy clothes was holding her, but what he did next Mark couldn’t believe. As if in slow motion, the man bent his head down to his mother throat, almost like he was going to kiss her. Mark thought he saw what looked like long teeth in near his mother’s neck right before the man bit into her. Yes, bit.

Mark stood there, as the man bit down hard, as his mother screamed in agony on last time. The scream rolled through Mark with such intensity he took a step back. Then another. And another. He kept backing away until he hit a wall as this man, this thing, was latched onto his mother neck as she screamed until her eyes rolled into the back of her neck and the map ripped away ferociously and dropped her to the ground like a forgotten doll. She hit the ground with a thud, hidden from his view and the man slowly turned to look at Mark. Mark’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the man’s face. He has blood everywhere, all down his face and neck. His mouth was full of long and pointed teeth, with two slightly longer ones on each side. The mouth was twisted in a feral smile, as glowing red eyes pinned him to the spot.

There were a lot of things Mark should have done right then, but his mind couldn’t seem to process what just happened. As his brain started to catch up with him, the man was suddenly right in front of him, holding him by the neck, his nose almost toughing his. Mark whimpered at the force of his grip which made the man give out a harsh laugh.
“This is what happens when people disrespect me.” He said as he bit down into Mark.

A scream ripped out of Mark’s throat as a pain more intense than he had ever felt worked its way through his body. He felt the skin and muscles rip at his neck as it was torn in to. His muscles tensed to a point of pain and he felt the man actually sucking at his neck. He was drinking his blood. He felt his energy draining away slowly as his mind became foggy. He thought he heard something come from another area of the house but he wasn’t sure. All he could focus on was the feeling of the pain drifting away and of a welcoming numb spreading through his body. And as suddenly as it happened, it stopped. He felt the man throw himself away from Mark, pain emerging again at his throat, and with a voiceless moan Mark slid to the ground.

His eyes lidded, he thought he could see two figures in the room, in a fight. There was the man who had been drinking his blood, and another person. His eyes closed for a second and he opened them again, another man was sitting in front of him, his mouth moving. The guy form before was nowhere to be seen. Mark tried to move away from this person but didn’t have the energy to do so, and barely managed to move his head. The man seemed to be talking to him, and Mark started to make out some of the words. He got things like ‘too weak’, ‘not going to make it’ and ‘you’ll get your revenge”. This made no sense to Mark but then he felt something warm and wet against his mouth. Before he could register what was happening, blood was being forced down his throat. He choked and gagged, eyes bulging in panic as he tried not to swallow but with his nose and mouth now being covered by a hand, he had no choice. As he felt it slide down his throat his body started to tingle and pain blossomed everywhere with a high intensity. He once again let out a scream of anguish and began to thrash around with an energy he didn’t think he had.

The pain spread through every part of his body, and he felt like he was being burned alive. It went on for what felt like hours before it finally started to dull. As the pain left, Mark felt himself start to drift. He was going to die, he thought. His body moved, not by his own accord, and he was placed onto something soft. A bed. He turned his head as the man stood back up, and watched Mark as his eyes finally closed, and he fell unconscious.