Janus' Record: 8

“Summer Dawn’s Perfume.

“That’s what I am going to be speaking about for this entry. She picks it out herself, she loves it, and she had probably fifty bottles of it. Its an interesting scent, and its only sold at the dark store in town.

“Its an Ambery, aged for hundreds of years. The basic compound of it is Belladonna, Physostigmine, Post-Samskaras Aconitum, (Summer often uses Post-Samskaras Aconitum to irritate her mother, and fight off rabid werewolves), holy-water instead of regular water, Syringa vulgaris and Jasminum polyanthum. It has a unique smell. The Aconitum has no true effect on anything, Belladonna and Aconitum are poisonous. Highly so, but the introduction of Physostigmine, and the Samskaras on the Aconitum, cause it to only have a very sweet smell from both flowers. The Holy-Water is used to water it down so it is not too strong. So the sweet smell from those things mixed with the soft aroma of the Jasminum Polyanthum and Syringa vulgaris, cause this sweet-jasmine-lilac aroma that is so unique – I’ve lived over two thousand years, and I’ve never smelled anything like it.

“As I said its not poisonous, the shopkeeper told me what was in it, I told her no. He then smiled broadly, and he took a swig of it. He was a human, and I had to say, I was shocked when he didn’t begin to sweat, and see things. I had to buy his whole supply of it. She didn’t want to ever be without it.

“The reason I was so keen on making this my discussion with the phonograph for the night was because I received a telephone call, as I often do, ‘Janus, one of our boys is having a hard time with a wraith in your territory.’ The Illuminati always seem to know what is going on everywhere, but they can never do anything about it.

“’Assist him please, and we will make it worth your while.’ I gathered the address, and I grabbed my emergency bag. I force-of-willed myself to the house, and I broke down the door. I love how in my old age, I no longer need to be invited into houses.

“I got downstairs, and saw lightning strikes on the walls, and a chalk pentagram on the floor, and I smelled a faint sweet-jasmine-lilac aroma. Summer Dawn. She always seems to be a step ahead of me when it is in concern to this county. She seems to handle most all of the threats here.

“I believe that it is because of my presence, that there are so many supernatural things occurring in such a small area. This may seem ego-centric, but I think that to be the reason.

“So, I heard a report of Zombies in a graveyard, it traveled fast through my contacts, and when I arrived, apart from dissipating rotten flesh, I smelled a sweet-jasmine-lilac aroma. Summer Dawn.

“There was another time, when I heard of a rat-demon infestation, I went there, and found corpses, and apart from the swarmyard smell, I smelled blood and traces of a sweet-jasmine-lilac aroma. Summer Dawn.

“I am very proud of my daughter. I love her, very much. When I think about her it makes me smile, and makes me want to say to everyone around me, ‘That is my Summer Dawn.’ It’s rare for a parent to have a child who excels and at times surpasses everything you do. For some parents it would cause a loathing. For me, I become very proud of her, when she reads languages that took me years to learn.

“Sometimes I wonder if she is proud to have me as a father, she wears her fangs proud. That’s the one genetic trait I was able to pass to my daughter.

“I am ending this entry early, because I smell sweet-jasmine-lilac, which means Summer has returned from her escapade with the wraith.

-Pause-

“Daddy!”

“See?”

-Click-

Summer's Journal: Forty-Third Entry

Chris once again, bailed out of a date. I’ve gotten used to it. His parents are very controlling, and they do not often let him have any free time. He wanted to come. But his patriarch was hassling him. What was worse, was I was almost to his house when I got the call.

“Summer, I can’t come tonight, they won’t let me.”

I bit my lip gently. It made me very sad, but I couldn’t let him know that, “Okay, baby, we’ll reschedule?” “Yes, of course, I’m really sorry Summer.” “Its not a big deal.” I lied.

“Bye…” I sucked it in for another second, “Bye, Chris.” After the phone clicked, I hung up, and sighed heavily. I wanted to cry. I felt sad. I needed to do something to not think about it. I love spending time with Chris. He makes me smile.

I heard at school, that there was a house, to the west of town, which was supposedly haunted. A crossover or an exorcism. To get there, I had to walk three or four miles. It was a decent ways down the road.

You couldn’t miss it when you saw it. It was classic haunted house, broken windows, cobwebs, creaky fence door. There was a group of boys in the front of it, most of them my age. I had seen them before, but I couldn’t place them. When they saw me, the eldest ran for their car, and they sped off.

I love the way I affect people.

As I walked up the sidewalk, the sky darkened and the wind picked up. I sighed, again. It was more a frustrated sigh then anything else. Sometimes, when spirits get angry, or are old enough, they can affect the area around them.

I opened the front door, surprisingly unlocked, and I took in a deep breath. It smelled musky, old, it was very dusty too, and I saw footsteps in the carpet, fresh ones, tennis shoes. I looked at them closer, I had seen the print before, I don’t remember when.

The house wasn’t filled with spirits, I saw orbs. Very weak spirits, maybe even animals. That’s when I felt the pinching at my calves, I looked down. Black beetles. I held my hand towards them, and blood filled my mouth.

They quickly parted and left me a circle. I was wrong, there was a strong spirit here. Somewhere. The wind whipped through the open doors, and the dust kicked up all around me.

I reached into my side satchel and withdrew my silver cross, I held it in my hand, holding it as a talisman. I looked down, and the tennis-shoe prints were gone. The dust settled. The ghost wasn’t causing the wind, or else during the dust cloud, he would have attacked.

I needed light, I reached into my pouch and withdrew my flare. I cracked it, and lit it. The bright light filled the room, bright red, and it faded to be blue.

“Okay,” I hissed, “Where are you?” It didn’t answer. Instead there was a thunderclap inside the house, and it knocked me to the ground. This was a powerful spirit indeed. Instead of messing around, it was time to get serious.

I began to run, towards the basement, that’s where I thought the sound was coming from, when I entered the basement, there were wine-racks knocked over, and a large black mass with glowing red eyes. It wasn’t looking at me. It was focused on something else in the room.

My hand turned black, blood filled my mouth, it was time to hit him. I reached into his corpus, and he vanished, the flare was glowing red, he would be back, I didn’t have much time. I looked in the basement. Holding a bright yellow flag was my no-good boyfriend.

“Family, huh?” I asked after swallowing the blood. He looked up to me, “Let me expla-“ He was cut off, the spirit was upon us. A lightning bolt flew from Chris’ hand, and it went through the corpus, and came at me.

As it came at me, Chris screamed for me to look out. But it didn’t help, the bolt struck me, and pain filled my body. I hit the ground hard, and the ghost turned to me, his eyes focused on me.

“Summer!” Chris ran through it towards me, and stood in front of me. I tried to rise, but it was too hard. He released another bolt, and it went through him. “Cross in my satchel…” He didn’t motion for it, instead he held his hand up, and a bright light was focused around it.

“Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven, give us this day, our daily-“ I yelled, “Chris that isn’t going to work!”

I forced myself to rise, and I began to recite the old latin banishing chants. The light pulsated, and there was a flash and he was gone, it was still deathly cold. Chris dropped to me, and picked me up.

“He’s going to come back Chris.” “What can I do to help you?” “You’re a healer!” I screamed. He held his hand over the charred black shirt, and I felt a coolness come over me; then warmth.

I stood shakily on the ground, and I held my silver cross out, and blood filled my mouth, as I began to channel energy into the air, so he could manifest again. When he did, he looked more human then before, but still very evil.

I spat my blood at him, and I rolled underneath him. The chalk fell from my bag, and I began to draw a pentagram around him. He was clawing at me the whole time. I felt the scratches, and the blood rolling down.

Chris began to scream at it, flinging pointless lightning bolts at it. I rolled away, from it, and I began to recite the old latin exorcism I learned from my father. The ghost melted into the circle, and I laid on the dusty ground.

“Summer,” Chris said, “Are you okay?” “No, I’m hurt,” I said shortly. He laid his hands on my wounds and I didn’t feel the burning sensation they were giving off.

“Not physically. I’ve seen that flag before… Why didn’t you tell me?” Chris spoke, “They didn’t want you involved like you were with your cousin.” I looked at him, the dull light of my dieing flare, showing him my hurt, “I want to help you.”

“Summer,” he pleaded, “I thought-“ “Not hard enough.” “They wanted me-“ “No, Chris. I’m going home.” I reached for my necklace and he grabbed my hand, and held it.

“I wanted to see you, really, but…” “But?” “I will just dig myself in a deeper hole.” “Six foot deep enough?” “Summer, I had to prove myself to them.” “I really want to go home Chris.” “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have lied to you… I won’t do it again… I promise…” “Chris, stop…” “Summer, I’m truly sorry.”

He looked at me, and I was so angry at him, but it just vanished. I kissed his hand gently, “I am the expert in this… Don’t you dare do something like this without me again, and, for your information, I would have considered this a date.”

He smiled at me. He leaned into kiss me, and who should show up, “Chris!” Brendan said, “Did- Oh… Summer… I see…”

Is he ever going to kiss me!

I am going to kill my cousin.

-Dawn

Letter to the late, Kera d’Epee January 31st, 1991

Kera,

Brendan is healthy and happy. He always wants one of us with him. Is this normal? I don’t know as much as I should about pups. He’s going to be a wolf one day, or at least he is wolf blooded.

Page is so happy. I’m so happy. When he sleeps, sometimes we both watch him. He’s amazing…

I don’t sleep as much as I should. I will wake up in the middle of the night, and I will pick him up, and he’ll fuss because I woke him, then I take him in the living room, draw the curtains, and I lay him down on my chest and let him sleep.

He grabs onto my finger and he holds it tightly in his tiny little hand. He’s so strong. I often wonder late at night at such times what kind of a man will he be?

Lara, our adopted daughter, she watches over him. She at first didn’t like the idea of a baby brother or sister. But when she first looked at Brendan, she cooed, and asked to hold him.

Page growled. Lara’s eyes widened. It was so funny, I couldn’t laugh. Page didn’t mean to growl, she was just being a mother wolf. I looked at Lara, and I knelt down next to her, and reminded her about Page being a werewolf.

Its been a few months and Page is finally comfortable enough for Lara to hold him. She doesn’t often, because she’s scared to hurt him. Lara would have been a good mother.

He’s crying, Page is at work, and Lara is somewhere.

-Rapier d’Epee

Explanation: Concerning this Blog

To whom it may concern,

It had occurred to me, that many of you reading may be confused with the format or the characters. It is about time that I explain to you what we are trying to accomplish with this blog.

This blog is named “The O’Ciardha Clan.” The O’Ciardha’s are a family that my writing partner and I made, and they exist only in a world that we made. We have written four full books about the family, and we are currently working on a fifth.

These books we hope to publish soon, or at least get made into movies. To do this we had to see how the public (or other bloggers) respond to it. This is an experiment. We are trying to hone our writing and we are trying to get our name known as much as possible.

For many of you, you may have thought this blog was done by only one person, as mentioned above you noticed that I said I had a partner in this. I will tell you who we write as.

I, a separate entity, who you can know simply by the main character I write as on here, Summer. Then my writing partner, whom is also a separate entity known as, Jesse, who this person has posted as most often.

I, Summer, as you have guessed write as Summer Dawn. I also write as Aurora “Thousand Faces”, Janus Delia, and also Rapier d’Epee.

Jesse, as you can once again deduce writes as Jesse O’Ciardha, Page Carey, Brendan Carey, and Chris Eastman.

Some of the events that happen in this blog, happen in the stories we have written, some of the events however we make up.

But I feel it necessary to explain some of our inspirations and other things. First of all, we cannot forsake the best and oldest of the modern gothic stories, Bram Stoker’s Dracula. As I am sure many of you have read, notice how reminiscent the blog is. Summer Dawn, much like Jonathan Harker keeps a journal, and Janus keeps his stories by Phonograph much in the same way Dr. Seward keeps his. We cannot possibly expect to have an acceptable modern gothic story without shouting out to Bram Stoker. So, Bram Stoker, wherever your soul is right now, Thank you.

For those of you who have seen Marvel’s Blade, or read the old comic, along with Terminal Reality’s BloodRayne, we cannot forget them, in help with the idea of the “Dhampir” the half vampire. The theory makes sense from all the research I have done. So Marvel and Terminal Reality, Thank you.

The series Supernatural, on the WB. It sometimes, after I watch it, I get inspired, and I've used it as a great research source, the writers of the show are amazing, so to Supernatural and its writers, Thank you.

The last source, is White Wolf Publishing’s World of Darkness, RPG series. I had often been interested in vampires, and had ATTEMPTED to write something in that genre, and though I loved it, I knew it wouldn’t go far. WoD is a Modern Gothic Genre, and it was a heavy source of inspiration for the stories and this blog. Anybody who has read this and has played WoD I’m sure can see the similarities immediately. So to White Wolf Publishing, Thank you.

Sources that have NOT inspired this blog or the stories we wrote, are Underworld, Underworld 2, An American Werewolf in Paris, Cursed, Blood and Chocolate, and The Covenant. We did not begin work on these stories before An American Werewolf in Paris, Underworld or Cursed. But, as for all of the others we had finished three of the four completed books before they were released, or even before production notes were released.

I, as an author of this blog, do not want people to think that we, use ideas without giving credit for them. I would also like to thank any readers we have, and I wanted to clarify how this blog works and why it works the way it does.

Thank you,

Author (Summer) and Author (Jesse)