Vínculos

Pessoas há que passam pela nossa vida sem levar nada de nós, e sem nada nos deixar.
Pessoas há que deixam um perfume forte, mas que se dissipa rapidamente com o tempo. Preenchem uma necessidade de momento, que uma vez satisfeita, revela-se pueril.

Já pessoas há que nos marcam com sua presença de espírito, com detalhes como o seu sorriso e sua alegria, sua mais ou menos disposição em sentar-se ao nosso lado e escutar-nos falar, algo tão simples e corriqueiro, mas que realizado na circunstância necessária e com a companhia ideal, pode marcar nossa vida profundamente.

Algumas pessoas há, geralmente na família, que conquanto jamais consigamos criar um vínculo de intimidade, ou mesmo de compatibilidade de pontos de vista, sabemos que lá estão, e elas sabe que cá estamos; Que um poderá com o outro contar, em qualquer momento, apesar destas pequenas diferenças, que aparentemente não serão transpostas no curso de uma vida.

Esta miríade de tipos de vinculações que formamos e conosco formam, constitui o nosso círculo de contatos, a nível pessoal.

O que por vezes não percebemos é que em toda aquisição, existe um "custo", ou uma necessidade, de manutenção.

Assim como, adequadamente mantidos e revisados, os nossos bens móveis e imóveis podem ter uma vida útil bem superior a dos mesmos bens, quando deles apenas nos servimos à exaustão, as amizades e demais vínculos que formamos precisam, de tempos em tempos, serem regados, revisitados até. Nunca sabemos quando uma palavra nossa poderá render a renovação de um vínculo por toda uma vida.

E sem nossos vínculos, nossa história, nesta brincadeira séria de aprender a viver, jamais poderá ser contada corretamente. Sem as testemunhas a nos apontarem onde fomos humanos, onde superamos nossas limitações e onde a elas cedemos (e ceder por vezes é um direito inalienável, sobremaneira quando o cansaço nos alcança), sem os vínculos a nos auxiliar a repensar nossos caminhos, não vivemos; somos apenas o que nos sobra da ilusão de nossas próprias memórias.

O Alienígena

"Pressentindo o momento derradeiro, ele lamentava a vala comum, o despojo que viria dos seus restos mortais sem pompa, cerimônia, mas sobretudo, percebia que ao deixar este mundo, em breves instantes não haveria memória de sua passagem pela terra.

Algo incomovido, percebi como são estranhos estes terrícolas, pois vivem sem tentar se destacar, muito ao contrário, muito esforço fazem para serem invisíveis e indistinguíveis, verdadeiros bois no rebanho, entretanto na hora da morte esperam algum milagre que os destaque, como se não tivessem eles mesmos tornado-se lamentavelmente esquecíveis".

Obrigado, mais uma vez :-)

Volta e meia escrevo sobre você, por aqui. E as vezes, escrevo pra você.

Como você talvez imagine, isto as vezes me deixa numa situação complicada, pois as pessoas dão uma interpretação meio "tão profunda quanto uma poça d'água" e concluem que é por que eu ainda estou apaixonado. Aí rola uma crise básica de ciúmes, sabe como é.

Bom, se existir alguma forma não romântica de paixão, então, eu estou. E arrisco dizer que sempre estarei. E não é pra menos: poucas pessoas conseguem me fazer sentir especial, até hoje, nenhuma como você.

Por exemplo, as vezes me dizem coisas tentando me animar, e dá pra ver, que apesar da intenção ser a melhor, fica evidente que estão pintando os quadros com coloridos artificiais, tentando fazer a paisagem ser o que não é. Os argumentos são rebuscados, e por isso mesmo, acabam sendo fracos.

Não sei dizer a razão, mas quando você tenta fazer o mesmo, o colorido sai tão natural, me parece que você realmente consegue me ver, exatamente como se eu tivesse ao teu lado desabafando até o último ponto, coisa que, como bem sabes, eu nunca faço.

Você me passa a sensação de acreditar em mim de um jeito ... a ponto de conseguir realmente me animar.

E por isto acho que sempre lhe serei grato: não mais posso dizer, apenas, obrigado por existir, mas muito obrigado ainda por pensar em mim com tanto carinho. Mesmo estando longe, nunca está, e eu honestamente não sei o que fiz pra merecer tamanha confiança. Um dia talvez me explique. Ou um dia talvez eu apenas entenda.

Há tanto ainda pra aprender.

Do mal menor

Existe uma idéia algo tentadora de que, as vezes, seria possível fazer certa quantidade de bem, mas para isso, seria necessário fazer um pouco de mal.

Quando a proporção de bem parece absurdamente maior que o mal, especialmente quando este último parece, por comparação, tão insignificante, que chega mesmo a parecer, por contraste, que não é mal, especialmente quando te parece que qualquer efeito nocivo pode ser revertido, aí essa idéia parece mesmo inevitável, uma oportunidade em um milhão. Quem deixaria passar?

Você! Você, que lê, se ainda não caiu nesta cilada, não caia...

Quando as pessoas envolvidas se arvorarem em torno de teu julgamento, não pense que o prato do bem estará automaticamente preenchido e que seu peso na balança será automaticamente contabilizado a teu favor. As pessoas não enxergam automaticamente ações dúbias (e não posso tirar-lhes a razão) como passíveis de produzir quantidade representativa de bem.

Então, antes de, apressadamente, se colocar em uma situação que provavelmente não tens condição de medir o preço, pense bem: este pode ser bem maior do que aparenta. Há situações que não nos pertencem, e se o único meio (aparente) de fazer muito bem, é com uma atitude questionável, se abstenha: para o observador externo, é impossível fazer a coisa certa do jeito errado. E talvez, até mesmo de modo absoluto, o observador externo possa ter toda a razão do mundo, ainda quando você recorde da animação que a idéia te produziu e do bem que esperava almejar. Só você recordará, e se isto pode ter te parecido mais do que suficiente, eu te adianto, meu amigo, que dificilmente o será.

O conto da pá de cal

Olho para o sepulcro em que te depositei
Me é indiferente se estivera vazio
Ou cheio dos sonhos que não são meus

Olho para a roupa com que te adornei
A última que vestiste
Diante de meus olhos já cansados

Olho para a terra que te aguarda
Antevejo os vermes que te devoram
Penso em tudo que não foste

Olho para o coveiro infeliz
Mas infeliz é tu, que morre em vida
E ninguém aqui te verte lágrimas

Olho para a pá ao lado
E no monte de cal, a preencho
Te cubro o sepulcro em alva mancha.

Olho para a saída,
Pego minha jaqueta, e sigo
Sem precisar olhar pra trás.

Quem planta vento...

Tomar consciência é muito mais do que estar informado, fazer leve ideia, enxergar detalhes em um retrato em poucas dimensões. Não basta decompor fragmentos e se acercar deles, tampouco basta ter uma visão geral à distância, sem foco. É necessário estar imerso, fazer parte do contexto, e aí receber ideias contrárias, percepções diferentes. O atrito (que não precisa ocorrer necessariamente em estado de contrariedade) gera a agitação térmica, a entropia que falta para estimular novos aprendizados.

Tudo isto é verdadeiro. A vivência não poderia ser simplesmente abstração à distância, ato imaginativo ou deslocamento intelectual momentâneo, desprovido do devido aprofundamento, sob diversos ângulos e conseqüências.

Entretanto, nisto, como em tudo, existe a possibilidade do abuso, do "overshoot": se é bem verdade que há uma miríade de aprendizados que só se realizam com o comprometimento e a imersão, podemos dizer mesmo que apenas com a experiência, esta, por si só, se não for internalizada, é inútil; Em alguns casos mesmo danosa, e, nestas circunstâncias, visivelmente desnecessária.

Temos todos a inteligência mais ou menos desenvolvida, para que seja utilizada em suas máximas potencialidades.

Nos atirarmos em direção a penhascos, ou empreendermos vôos noturnos ignorando as probabilidades, a devida preparação, e a necessária motivação, é dirigirmo-nos rumo a decepção, é expormo-nos a experiência francamente inútil (no melhor dos cenários), cujas conseqüências poderiam ser antevistas pelo pensamento, dispensando aventuras empíricas.

O que é ainda mais grave é quando, além de não usar a inteligência, não consideramos as experiências mal sucedidas do pretérito, insistindo na fórmula mística improvável de que seria possível obter resultado diferente combinando os mesmos elementos, nas mesmas proporções e circunstâncias.

Paulo, o apóstolo, registrou: "Todas as coisas me são lícitas, mas nem todas as coisas me conveem; Todas as coisas me são lícitas, mas nem todas as coisas edificam", num claro uso da razão em prol da análise qualitativa  das possibilidades do mundo, já que tempo desperdiçado não volta.

De que pode se queixar aquele que produz para si, conscientemente, conseqüências inúteis evitáveis?

Até hoje

Nossos caminhos cruzaram em um momento imperfeito. O que daí adveio foi, inexorável e inevitavelmente, incompleto.

E como não poderia deixar de ser, aqueles breves momentos, aquele teu sorriso, ganharam outras significações, com o passar das luas.

Não sei ao certo o que levaste de mim, mas sei que de ti levei muita coisa. Coisas que sei não intentei roubar, e que talvez nem tenhas me ofertado, mas a intimidade possui mesmo esta capacidade de multiplicar no outro ser aquelas coisas que só existem em nós. Isto acontece em família, acontece nos amores completos, que formam planetas, mas, mais raramente, também acontece entre observadores e as estrelas cadentes (cuja passagem é notável, mas fugaz).

E é isto que foste, uma estrela cadente, que marcou minhas lembranças com teu sorriso e capacidade de brilhar, mas que continuou a trajetória própria, rumo ao destino que escolheste, muito antes de seres observada por este admirador de céus, que te identificou como luz sonora, em meio a negra madrugada silenciosa.

Nunca pude explicar, até por não compreender, este sentimento de gratidão em que te conservo. Lhe sou grato, até hoje, por nada menos que apenas existires.

Bonding

De todos os tesouros que possuo e que me dou conta, certamente o vínculo com meus semelhantes ocupa o topo da lista. E daquelas coisas que transcendem as escolhas pessoais, é certamente o campeão.

Transcendem pois, conquanto o ato de amar, em sua expressão maior, seja desconectado de qualquer recíproca ou recompensa, o vínculo a que me refiro só se completa de fato quando há a necessária consideração de ambas as partes.

Não me refiro em particular a esta ou aquela expressão de vínculo afetivo: Romântica, familiar, amizade, representam uma gama muito ampla de possibilidades, mas, ainda há relações psíquicas de difícil qualificação, que não seriam retratadas com fidelidade, quando a elas fosse afixado mero rótulo cujo uso criou necessária ambiguidade, e que, conquanto perfeitamente adequado para o cotidiano, neste caso, não possui a especificidade suficiente.

E como se dá essa recíproca, este retorno?
Das mais variadas formas.

Há pessoas que possuem imensa facilidade em demonstrarem o que lhes sustenta esta ligação. Na forma de palavras, gestos e atos, transparece-lhes a chama viva, o impulso voluntário, que nasce na profunda intimidade do ser. Quando me encontro com elas, fazem questão de dizer e demonstrar: - és bem vindo.

Há pessoas que, conquanto não se possa dizer que estejam noutra classificação, quanto a essência mesma dos sentimentos, possuem bem diversa expressão verbal e comportamental; Mas, pelos atos, e, mais especificamente, na qualidade da situação em que estes atos ocorrem, se pode deduzir o que se passa e a qualidade da relação que tem conosco. Elas podem não dizer "te aprecio", "te amo", mas elas amam e apreciam por atos, especialmente mais perceptíveis quando nos encontramos em maior necessidade deles.

Dentre estas últimas, existem dois extremos. Num deles, a expressão verbal e/ou comportamental é limitada: ela ocorre com certa dificuldade, com timidez, se posso usar esta palavra, mas ocorre. Noutro extremo estão aqueles cuja expressão é, de algum modo, bloqueada ou não desenvolvida. Poder-se-ia inferir que beira mesmo a inexistência.

Me encontro neste segundo grupo, e navego entre estes dois extremos. Se é bem verdade que em instantes particulares, uma espécie de clareza se apodera e torna-me mais fácil dizer ou mostrar algo que percebo como verdadeiro, na maior parte do tempo, contudo, navego em mares agitados.

Tenho grande dificuldade em sustentar o que poderia chamar de calmaria n'alma, ou melhor, em senti-la, percebê-la, e sobretudo, expressá-la.

Em geral, piso em ovos. Expresso insegurança. É preciso um chamamento, um desafio, enfim, um acontecimento que me obrigue a acessar a essência de minhas certezas para que possa expressá-las.

E é por isso que, apesar de eu colecionar e estimar estes vínculos, a ponto de inúmeras pessoas me confiarem suas verdades e suas dúvidas (e ouso dizer que raramente fiz ou deixei de fazer algo que tenha me tornado desmerecedor desta confiança), eu ainda não consigo fazer o mesmo, a não ser em circunstâncias muito especiais.

Misunderstandings

Cada pessoa tem um jeito próprio de expressar as sutilezas dos pensamentos, e que estão mais ou menos relacionadas com o que se convencionou chamar de temperamento.

Assim, formas de expressão como generalização ou objetivação, sarcasmo, ironia, (in)formalismo, e outras tantas, variam gravamente de pessoa para pessoa, a ponto de interferirem na compreensão do que se diz, que acaba ficando ao domínio do que se intentou dizer.

Por exemplo, eu não costumo generalizar nem particularizar demais. Não por considerar as generalizações injustas para as exceções, apenas porque estou acostumado a extrapolar as generalizações a partir do específico, quando isto se faz necessário, e vice-versa. Então quando eu tendo a apontar ao específico, a delimitar, o faço sem preocupações. Se me refiro a um subgrupo, o faço diferetamente. Aparentemente, a maioria das pessoas tende a apontar para o conjunto, e, num segundo movimento, delinear mais ou menos o subconjunto. Ou fazer sempre o movimento contrário, e tem dificuldades quando se deparam com outro cenário. Também as tenho, mas como estou sempre alternando entre uma e outra forma de vincular uma idéia a outra, é raro eu deixar de pensar que talvez tenha entendido da forma errada.

Com alguns casos, sou mais objetivo. Se digo que certas pessoas são assim ou assado, me refiro a elas. Não é uma referência indireta a qualquer outro grupo.

Se eu uso de sarcasmo? Sim, mas não gosto de subterfúgios, quando eu o uso, faço questão de deixar claro que a intenção foi essa. Se preciso dizer algo sério, digo de forma direta, de preferência sem usar recursos literários ou terceiras pessoas como fossem intermediários. Quando estou brincando, com quem tenho intimidade para tal, claro que me dou certas liberdades. As vezes isto funciona, as vezes não, mas se não funcionar, me pergunte o que quis dizer, e nos poupe problemas.

A pior coisa é assumir coisas, pensar que necessariamente as pessoas tentaram dizer exatamente o que você entendeu, que pode não ter sido *nada* daquilo. Conversando sobre este assunto com uma pessoa que me é muito próxima, contei algumas vezes em que estive envolvido em pequenas confusões devido a eu ter assumido um entendimento qualquer e não ter buscado esclarecimentos, bem como as vezes em que recordo de ter assumido o papel do carrasco por não terem me questionado sobre algo que disse. São pequenas coisas, cujos efeitos a longo prazo foram perto de nulos, como acredito aconteça na maioria dos casos, com a maioria das pessoas.

Mas para minha surpresa, esta pessoa me confidenciou que tomou uma atitude que mudou todo o curso de sua vida, por causa de uma decisão tomada com base em um mal entendido. Não falo de coisas pequenas, falo de rumos de vida de décadas, e com conseqüências que acompanharão a pessoa até o túmulo, ou além dele, se o preferir.

Ainda temos que aprender muito em termos de comunicarmo-nos, de entendermos e nos fazermos entender. Tentarei fazer minha parte, ainda que tenha ciência das minhas limitações neste sentido, pois não quero pra mim o que me foi contado, que não foi nada de ficção científica ou drama noveleiro: Poderia tranquilamente acontecer com qualquer um de nós.

Estranho Mundo

A chuva descia lentamente, quase em forma de névoa, por sobre o telhado previamente aquecido pelo sol. Ao tocar as telhas, leve condensação vaporosa parecia escapar das próprias telhas, e como fluiam em sentido contrário a chuva, aumentavam ainda mais a percepção de "slow motion" que parecia dominá-la de modo mais particular naquele instante.

Caía lentamente a chuva, e totalmente alheia aos dramas e vitórias que por ventura se processavam por debaixo daquelas telhas, telhas estas tão comuns que não permitem inferir nada sobre aqueles que debaixo dela se protegem, sem as perceber.

Haveriam ali homens, mulheres, ou crianças? Seriam mais ou menos felizes, mais ou menos educados, um tanto afoitos ou comedidos? A chuva não saberia informar. Tampouco as telhas.

Na natureza, as coisas tendem a serem o que são. A chuva é a chuva, o barro, que mais tarde forma a telha, é ainda barro, transformado pela ação do calor que o torna resistente e das resinas que o tornam impermeável.

Só nós, as indefinidas máquinas de pensar, escapamos, momentaneamente, da mecânica que rege as telhas ou a chuva; Mecânica nem por isto simples ou facilmente apreensível.

E apenas momentaneamente, pois toda vez que duas ou mais moléculas unem-se, comprometem-se simultaneamente a estarem juntas por um tempo, e a deixarem de estar, quando a energia que as agrega já não puder mantê-las juntas.

Passam as chuvas, as telhas, o barro, a resina. Passam-se as moléculas, os homens, e tudo aquilo que, particularmente, deram a conhecer, em dada época.

A essência, as idéias, os pensamentos, sentimentos, percepções e realizações podem, no entanto, continuar muito após as moléculas que as serviram de meio desmontarem-se.

Há algo de eterno no universo, algo que não podemos apreender senão em metáforas superficiais, pois ainda não somos: apenas estamos; Mesmo ainda quando superamos vida e morte, pois o tempo de uma vida, de uma geração, não é nada senão grão de areia no deserto do infinito.

Do coração materno

Feliz dia das mães.

Para toda as mães, das mais óbvias, as mais improváveis.
Para as mães-mães, dotadas pela natureza dessa faculdade fantástica, e ao mesmo tempo assustadora, de terem filhos biológicos.

Para as mães-pais, que suprem a ausência, voluntária ou não, daquele que a deveria auxiliar nesta tarefa tão complexa.

Para os pais-mães, que se vêem em situação análoga. Não pensem, meninas, que é coisa trivial a um homem tentar suprir a ausência materna. Contrariando qualquer coisa que possamos dizer em piadinhas machistas, vocês são absolutamente insubstituíveis, e só intentamos (sem jamais lograr sucesso absoluto) fazê-lo quando as circunstâncias excepcionais assim o exigem. É bem verdade que alguns de nós até conseguem fazer um trabalho exemplar, e prova disto está no reconhecimento da prole, mas sabemos que não seria a mesma coisa, se estivésseis disponíveis.

Para os amigos-mães, que nos aconselham na juventude, do corpo e da alma, muitas vezes dando conselhos duros que precisamos ouvir. Todos cometemos faltas e excessos cujas conseqüências muitas vezes só podem ser capturadas de antemão por este olhar externo, a nos guardar constantemente.

Para os filhos-mães e filhas-mães. Pois há pais que, em determinadas áreas, carecem, mais que seus filhos, de orientação. É a vida mostrando que "existe mais entre céu e a terra do que sonha a vossa vã filosofia", e se ainda não observou uma dessas situações entre pais e filhos, convido a prestar bastante atenção, pois é bastante improvável que lhe falte oportunidades de fazê-lo.

Enfim, desejo um ótimo dia das mães para todas as mães de coração, pois apesar da ciência apontar o instinto materno humano como versão sublimada daquele oriundo da natureza (apelo aqui para uma relação entre regra e exceções, estas últimas certamente são numerosas, mas não chegam a constituir maioria, ou não seriam chamadas como tal), existe no coração humano uma capacidade incrível de fazer coisas surpreendentes, tanto do ponto de vista criativo, quanto daquele destrutivo.

É assim que, se de um lado da história temos as mães (e pais) que adotam os filhos biológicos de terceiros, nem sempre atendendo a simples desejo íntimo (se tal coisa existe), ou ainda quando recebem de braços abertos, quer em caráter momentâneo ou permanente, aqueles que ainda possuem os pais biológicos mas que nestes novos braços recebem exímios substitutos, por outro lado, é inevitável perceber que o ser humano também está apto a dar-se com as suas sombras íntimas.

É assim no infanticídio generalizado, que alguns buscam justificar, mesmo em época em que o conhecimento dos processos reprodutivos e contraceptivos já não mais permitem recorrer-se ao argumento da ignorância e da surpresa; Seja este no ventre, ou no abandono por vezes doloroso, por vezes insensível, que se dá aos já gerados, em todas as idades, ou até mesmo em situações ainda mais cruéis e desumanas, onde se vê que, se o ser humano é dotado da capacidade de ir além de seus companheiros de fauna, também se observa que, também pode, facilmente, ficar muito aquém de seus exemplos.

Portanto, é louvável o apreço a toda as formas de maternidade e paternidade, sem cujos exemplos ainda seriamos selvagens, ensaiando sensações e sem ter desenvolvido ainda, sentimentos, embora alguns ainda tenham muito chão antes de conhecê-los de fato.

Dizem que o amor de mãe é, via de regra, o mais próximo do amor incondicional teórico que se possa conceber. Isto não impede que as mães tenham naturais expectativas quanto a correspondência de sua prole, mas podemos observar a paciência com que algumas mães se dedicam aos seus filhos, ainda quando isto se constitui tarefa de superar rejeições e impaciências das mais variadas ordens.

Ou quando ainda estes últimos concorrem para a desordem e a destruição, própria ou dos demais. Quando filhos encarcerados encontram-se abandonados e socialmente odiados, muitas vezes esquecidos até por esposa e filhos, é a figura terna da mãezinha que os visita e lhes transmite constantemente as últimas provas de que a civilização ainda tenta resistir, também nos corações, e de que se deve ter um olhar para frente, mesmo quando, aparentemente, cada um de nós possa experimentar impressão mais ou menos duradoura de que não existiria motivo para tal.

About roads not taken

Que variáveis determinam a reação de uma pessoa?

Por que diante de uma bifurcação, algumas tomam o caminho da esquerda, e outras da direita, enquanto outras ainda paralisam-se, sem saber o que fazer?

Por que ainda algumas não se incomodam em pegar o caminho mais longo, enquanto outras buscam apenas andar aos saltos, pulando etapas e imaginando atalhos de antemão?

Aquele que, encontrando o problema, encontra-se apto resolvê-lo, o estaria, se não tivesse vivido qual ou tal experiência particular, que despertou nele a vontade de superar? E aquele que falha hoje diante do problema, não o superaria mais tarde, tivesse as próprias experiências?

Ser humano: com seus mistérios, segue avante, pelas próprias pernas, ou empurrado.

Falsas memórias

Andava eu a procurar
Dentre outras coisas, meu sapato
E, ali na esquina,
Entretido comigo e com o cachorro
Viajei em distantes memórias de criança
Copo verde plástico a segurar
E mamãe do meu bigode vermelho a rir
Quanto tempo já se foi
Desde a groselha que tomei.

-- Ñ veio rima hj, mas acho q serve :P

Devaneios Primevos

Esqueceste teu coração em algum ponto da estrada.

Há tanto, tanto tempo atrás, que tuas memórias traem-te, fazendo-te pensar que nunca o teve. Parece que dia após dia, o peso das rudezas da vida te fizeram portador de pesada armadura, asfixiando o ser que ama e que sorri.

Viajou os sete mares, provou os banquetes dos reis, viu as (hoje inúmeras) maravilhas do mundo, entretanto, quando senta-te a sós contigo mesmo, não consegues disfarçar o vazio que te habitas.

E tentaste: usaste de todas as fugas, procuraste todos os tóxicos, leste todos os livros. Teu cérebro, incapaz de encontrar a razão acima da razão, te conduziu a escuros labirintos de vãs filosofias apressadas, que te propuseram a imposição de teus pontos de vista através desta ou daquela revolução de cunho imediato, que no entanto, jamais chegou a se realizar.

De dentro de tua concha, clamas auto-suficiência, mas apesar de molhares o pavio de tua lamparina n'água de falso pedestal, esta insiste a brilhar, em despeito a tuas mais fortes injunções contra ti mesmo.

Quando, em nome de tua própria sanidade, irás te libertar das teias que teceste pra ti?

Páscoa 2010 - Acampamento em barra do una

Nadei no mar a noite ... machuquei 1 dedão do pé e 1 da mão ao mesmo tempo :-)
Comi pf com peixe 2 vezes... melhor feijão e arroz da minha vida :-)
Tive preguiça de por a lona por cima da barraca... ñ fosse a insistência da Robs, o vento teria me jogado no meio da serra do mar. Ou me devolvido pra Curitiba com uma pneumonia ou algo.
Joguei dominó na frente da barraca, durante a chuva. Dia gostoso.
Comi sanduíche de pão pullman com patê de atum. Isto lembra outra farofagem em Floripa.
Queimei a testa pq ñ passei protetor.
Perseguimos siris a noite. E de dia. Pobres bichos, acho que estão armando uma revolução para nos expulsar da face da terra.
Descobri a razão pela qual a cachoeira do paraíso recebeu este nome.
Pilotei um carro anfíbio. Por pouco, não foi um submarino.
Jantei wireless no restaurante fechado.
Tirei fotos da Robs sorrindo feito criança. Gravei outras imagens na minha memória, pq tava sem a máquina a postos. Como a minha memória já não é de elefante, sei que estas memórias não durarão pra sempre.
Vi bem de pertinho um bicho que parecia um Guaxinim. Sabe, aquele rabo que usam no chapéu de escoteiro? Então. Era aquele rabo, com um bicho anexado :P

Fique debaixo da lona durante a tempestade, me rachando de rir (mas com medo de ser arremessado longe) da situação e tentando mudar a posição da lona para que a barraca ñ voasse. Isso enquanto a Robs tava com febre, até q ela melhorou e conseguiu dormir. Que bom pra ela, pois o pior da tempestade ainda estava por vir... a barraca dobrou no meio praticamente :P Vento medonho!

Enfim, uma páscoa diferente. Curti muito. Barra do una forever! :P

Episode four - The beast within

Lucas remembered that by 7h am that same day, the scientists went to his cell. He was pretending to sleep deeply, while the guards disabled the electrical fence and opened the door.

Carefully, the scientists entered the room, not before the guard positioned himself, pointing a heavy shock gun towards Lucas's back.

- I guess he is still asleep. How much sleeping sorum you gave him?
- About twice as usual.
But the third scientist interrupted:
- Well, make it four then. I gave him twice the amount before our meeting yesterday.

To what the first scientist answered:
- Are you two insane?
- Well, we can't kill him, remember?
- We can't kill him, but if Dr. Jones is right, we can make him immune to the sorum...
- You and Dr. Jones. Dr. Jones is a lunatic. Let me check his vitals.

A moment passed, and the conversation continued:
- He is probably in coma. His body is cold, the respiration and heart beat are too slow.
- Good, this will only help some tests I want to make. Let's move him to the exam room five.
- Yes, this is not a bad thing. Let's hope he doesn't die when he drawn most of his blood off.
- Guard, lock this cell while we prepare the exam room.
- Yes, Dr. Right away -- replied the guard.

A few minutes later, two nurses approached the cell, along with three armed guards.
They tied Lucas to a bed and took him to the exam room.

One of the guards left the room and positioned himself at the door, the other two remained, for the case something went wrong.

The doctors were very excited, as they almost never have authorization to perform tests, as the bodies are considered to be property of the military.

Two of the doctors begun to set up their equipments, while one of them plugged Lucas to a vital sign analyzer.

- I'm very surprised, he is indeed in coma. I got some strange readings from his brain, but that's probably just a fault of the equipment.

He then joined the other doctors and begun to prepare. A few instants later, one of then turned around in order to give Lucas an injection, but Lucas was gone.

- Holy shi ... The doctor didn't have the time to complete his sentence. He was thrown away to the other side of the room.

The other two doctors immediately looked behind, only to see their worst nightmare to 'come true: There was two huge blood marks on the wall, close to the door. They concluded these were from the guards.

They looked to the other side of the room and saw their colleague half crossed the wall, with bones exposed all over the place, and much blood.

They looked straight ahead and there was Lucas, all convered in blood, and with a visible rage in his eyes. He was no longer with a death appearance, his skin returned to normal color.

One of the scientists couldn't hold his thought to himself and left a word escape from his mouth:
- Impossible!

In hearing this word, Lucas eyes seemed to gain a more human configuration. The rage seemed to calm down.  Lucas then looked at the man who spoke and replied him:
- I would also say all of this to be impossible just a few weeks ago. Now can you please tell me what is happening to me?

The doctor who previously said something tried to say a few words but entered a shock state. His colleague however replied Lucas:
- Please answer me quickly, we don't have much time: how did you manage to control the anger? In your state, you should have killed both of us too.
The other doctor then could spoke a few words, even thought he was shaking hard:
- Shut up! Don't say this to him! Don't give this monster any ideas! Do you have a death wish?

Lucas felt the rage again and moved close to the doctor who spoke last, raising his hand against him.
The other doctor said loud:
- Calm down!

And Lucas immediately turned his look into something more pleasant. He then spoke:
- Sorry. My body seems to have wishes of his own. I'm afraid I'll get you both killed at any moment, so I'll keep the distance. What have you asked me before, Dr?
- I asked how could you hold your anger? It's not natural for a thing like you to hold off your instincts, at least not so soon. We know you transformed not too long ago.

Lucas felt kind of in shock but tried to understand every single word the doctor was telling him.
He thought for a moment and then replied:
- I need to know what I am and what's happening to me. When you spoke to me, I thought you might have some answers. This rage, this hunger, then slowed down a bit. I think I can manage it for now.
- Very well. You were bitten by a vampire. You are a vampire now. Not entirely, I may add, unfortunately. A human bitten by a vampire will always be half human, and this is what give you the hunger.
The other doctor was a surprised as Lucas, and shout:
- What the hell are you talking about? Half human?
- I'm sorry my friend, but I couldn't tell you. I had access to Hitler's research. It tells that there are pure vampires, and that they don't experiment this kind of pain as transformed ones do. The bone marrow still produces human stem cells, which are then swallowed by bigger vampire cells, which induces transformations on them, before they differentiate. But the vampire body doesn't produce a few enzymes which the human cells needs to function. As a reaction, they release chemical toxins in the blood stream that signals to the brain they need to feed. It's unknown how the brain "knows" that it needs human blood to supply these, so that the organism can keep working.
The other doctor went to reply, but Lucas interrupted:
- Are you telling me that these images I have about bitting human beings and drinking their blood are real? I'll have to do that to not die.
The doctor then vigorously attempted to reply:
- No, you only have to ...

But the guard outside, who attempted to contact the ones inside by radio and got no answer, had triggered the silent alarm to the entire building.

Heavy armed and heavy armored  men charged the room and opened fire, even before the doctor could finish his sentence. As Lucas was between the door and the doctors, as the guards shoot attempting to hit Lucas, they accidentally ended up killing both doctors.

Lucas immediately charged against the door. His anger was so intense that he didn't feel as the projectiles of the guns entered his body, breaking some bones and perforating his internal organs.

Two guards had already entered the room and positioned on the sides of the door, while a third one was between them, still passing through the door. Lucas got to the guard at the left, which was the closest to him, and managed to hit him hard at the chest. The guard flew against the wall behind him, but for Lucas surprise, he managed to fall on his feet, with some difficulty. In the fraction of second between the guard got on his feet and positioned himself to open fire again, Lucas managed to hit the guard of the middle, who already passed the door.

 He knew his previous hit wasn't enough, so this time he hit as hard as he felt that he could. This time it was too hard, and his arm passed through the armor and the guard's body. His hand got stuck and the guard on the right was already shooting at him, so he kicked the middle guard's body while holding his hand still, throwing the remains at the shooting guard. It wasn't hard enough to injure the guard, but gave him the time to reposition in order to hit the guard at the left. But as the guard had enough time to aim, he hit Luca in the head, injuring his left eye and causing lots of pain.
 Lucas fell on the floor, but the anger was so much higher that he immediately hit his arms against the ground, with so much strength that his body flew in direction to the guard, and he then punched him in the chest. The armor didn't get a hole this time, but bended hard enough to break the guard's ribs, and to get his body to fly against the wall, this time passing through it.

Lucas took one of the guard's guns and used it as if it were a baseball bat, and hit the guard now entering the door, so hard that some guards behind him flew backwards too.

One of the guards tried and succeeded to get a knife on Lucas's neck, but Lucas, in pain, craved his teeth on the guard's neck. He felt possessed by an irresistible desire to suck the guard's blood, but he only had the time to get a little, as he realized another guard, with heavy artillery, was pointing directly to him.  Lucas wasn't fast enough to deviate the shot, which ripped his right leg off. The pain was almost unbearable, and he fell to the ground, so he could only took the bitten guard's shotgun and shoot the guy who hit him. He then charged a few rounds against other guards, but when the gun went empty, there were still four guards left. One of them tried to shoot Lucas on the head, but he then threw the empty gun at the guy, making a bloody scene I would prefer not to describe.

Lucas got on his single foot and managed to grab one of the guards by the vest, and with a circular movement, hit another guard with the roting one's foot. And then threw the guard hard against other two soldiers.

A few kicks on the bodies on the floor and only one guard remained alive. Lucas could hear on a guard's radio that a fifty man squad was moving towards that floor, and that, should Lucas escape alive, the remaining ones had clearance to start "operation darkstar". Lucas concluded that whatever that means, it should be bad.

He felt weaker. But also dominated by the hunger. He then jumped at the remaining guard and bitten him without mercy, drinking every single blood drop he could. He realised that not only he was drinking, but that some substance was liberated by his teeth, which made the victim's blood thinner and easier to swallow. At some point he fell that the victim's heart was no longer beating, but he kept drinking until he couldn't feel a single drop. He felt a complicated mixture of disgust and pleasure, guilty and freedom. But had no time to consider what was happening. The pain on his leg was reducing, and he had the impression that a exposed bone was growing relatively faster. Could vampires regenerate? He wasn't going to stay there enough time for realizing.

Episode three - Stauffenberg

There is a secret research facility 320 miles away from Lucas's home. This facility is composed by three underground buildings. There's a tunnel, inside a military base 5 miles away, that gives access to these buildings. On the ground, over the buildings, there's a huge facility that the government leases to private corporations committed with low-tech activities. Right now, there's a cotton pillow factory. One of the greatest in the world, one may add.

The tunnel divides in three, each sub-tunnel leading to a different building. Access control is made in the intersection between the tunnels, both by automated systems and heavy-armed personnel. All of this belongs to a secret organization who refers to itself as "the last frontier".

Going down the leftmost tunnel, one reaches the building where Lucas was taken. This building hosts  exclusively the "Project Stauffenberg", a super-secret research team founded in the early 50s and named after Clauss Stauffenberg, the german official who became worldwide famous in his failed attempt to assassinate Hitler. He was a ultra-secret spy for the allies, a secret that is kept to this day. His responsabilities were to infiltrate a secret research facility which held Hitler's secret research team, "Verfaulte Welt".

By that time, Stauffenberg discovered one of Hitler's secrets: he was using blood transfusion from people they called "Unsterblichen" (immortals) to make super-strong soldiers.

As his report told that the germans were successful in their matters of making super soldiers a reality, the order came from the allies that he should attempt to destroy the Verfaulte Welt team, a task he succeeded in performing, but that had several consequences, exposing some of the allies spies. Stauffenberg's instructions were that if more than two third of his cell were exposed, he was then to put in practice operation "spiel vorbei", which consisted in killing the whole Hitler's top-rank officers and, if possible, Hitler himself.

Stauffenberg had no chance to killing Hitler's men, but an unique opportunity presented that lead him into the so-called failed attempt in murdering Hitler. What the story doesn't tell is that Stauffenberg would have been successfull, if Hitler himself wasn't a super soldier, in fact, the last one injected before the Verfaulte Welt team was destroyed.

The story tells that hitler left the briefing room where Stauffenberg's attempt to bomb him failed (altough the bomb did fire) and told his man: "- I'm immortal!". A few moments later, he met Mussolini, and the fact that Hitler was unharmed did put a very strong impression on Mussolini, as he later would told the world.

So, it was at least since world war two that secret organizations knew the existence of people with special physical capabilities.

When Lucas woke, he was moderately drugged and being kept in a jail cell. He immediately tried to search his body for bullet injuries, but there were none. Not even a scar. In fact, he felt stronger than before.

He attempted to touch the cell bars, but they were electrocuted and the pain was unbearable, even for Lucas.

He noticed a man in white dresses entered a room not far away. He attempted to listen to what was happening on the room, but the man closed the door behind him. Lucas was under the impression that if he tried hard enough, he could listen inside the room anyway, and so he remained focused, in silence, and concentrated on that very same room. Slowly, he become to hear some whispers, and the sound begun to get more and more like words, and finally, he could listen to a conversation. He could identify that there were at least three man on the room.

The part he could listen went more or less like this:

- I'm telling you, accordingly to our documentation, it was the first time we ever succeeded in taking one of them by force. Generally we use other means, like drugging. And I don't like the results, Dr. Jones says that the stress of the fight made him stronger. Much stronger than any one we ever seen before.
- Dr. Jones has this unproven theory that they evolve whenever they concentrate on something hard enough. I don't think that this is the case.
- Whatever happened to him, he was moderately strong when we got him at the city, but now he is at least three times stronger than subject 34, which in turn was the strongest we ever saw.
- Too bad we had to kill subject 34. But now we can proove once and for all whether Dr. Jones is wrong or not.
- I'll set the subject in order to perform some tests by tomorrow. The high comand however instructed us to collect as much blood from him as we can, and that we put him on the freezer, afterwards.
- In other words, they want us to treat him like every other subject. Which is a shame, our research could be years ahead if we could test the body and not only the blood. But orders are orders.
- Well, we can do turns on tests. I only have to freeze his body after noon.

Lucas kind of disconnected from the conversation at this point. He was in a mix of surprise, disgust and anger. He was so angry that he begun to imagining drinking their blood and then smashing then against the wall. He then reacted against this image, thinking to himself "this would not be human, and I am a man, not a monster".

Lucas realized that he would have to come up with a plan, if he was to leave that place alive. Or at least, "unfrozen". He didn't quite understand what the men meant by "to freeze him", but he was pretty sure that this would be something painful and disgusting, and that it sounded a bit like death.

He had only during that night to come up with a plan. And it would be a long night.

Episode two - Taken

Lucas couldn't sleep that night, nor could he sleep at any other night that week.
He did however feel amazingly well. He knew that this could not be normal, nor healthy, so he went to see a doctor.

The doctor couldn't find anything wrong with him, other than the fact that his parameters were very unusual: a very low blood pressure and heart beat rate, very fast reflexes and reaction to the light, a very low muscular tone and yet the strength that the doctor would later comment  with his colleagues as if it was "the strength of four men". What the doctor never heard of was of someone that didn't sleep for such a number of days and remained sane, or, more than that, perfectly functional.

He subscribed a sleeping drug that Lucas took and it worked amazingly. Lucas slept all night, only to wake a few minutes before his alarm clock rang. He felt very awake, and again, without that morning numbness that he had his entire life.

In fact, his latent feeling was a sense of power and strength, and he used this feeling that day to improve his work: he decided he was to review at least three firm cases before going home at night. By six o' clock, he had achieved the detailed review of sixteen cases. It would've been a record, if someone kept track of this sort of productivity scores. A law firm is not a place for speed, it's a place where precision and attention to the details and corners, and what even Lucas couldn't realize at the moment is that he had achieved both without even feeling tired.

During these days, Lucas got used to the attention, as he got well known due to his so called "police episode". Since everybody on the firm knew who he was, he begun to interact socially more often, to the point of having small talks with almost anyone up to the task. The people begun to perceive Lucas as a fine young man, and to slowly forget why he become a sort of celebrity. He wasn't a partner at the firm, and his work was more in the backgrounds; the "hard work", as he called it. However, as the weeks passed, more and more he was knew. Many people came to him, both for work and personal advises.

One day, however, Lucas woke in fever. The hunger was very strong, as he didn't feel since his days on the woods. His mind was sort of dominated by a strange passion, one whose subject he couldn't yet identify. And he also felt weaker, although the feeling was worst than the reality.

His wish was to call sick and go to see a doctor, but he had an important case analysis to do at work, so he went out anyway. The light sort of made his eyes hurt, and almost every single smell on the street made him feel numb and disgusted.

He managed to get at work, only to realize he couldn't concentrate enough to finish, so he asked permission to leave and to see his doctor.

The doctor was very surprised with Lucas's appearance, and ordered a few tests, which would took a few days to get ready. As Lucas seemed stressed to him, he told Lucas's boss to give him a few days off.

All Lucas's activity during those days were to eat a lot and sleep a lot. He felt overthrow by this strange desire, a kind of hunger that made him insane, specially because he couldn't identify what he needed. It was not a normal body request, like for food, water, sleep, sex, etc.

It was something very strong and very new to him, that, he felt, if worst, would make him go insane.

A few days later, his doctor got the results back from the lab, together with a note that said the results were too unusual, but were remade in a different facility and were indeed successfully confirmed as real. It recommended the doctor to contact a researcher in order to try to interpret what could give those strange results.

Lucas was called and went to see the doctor on the very same afternoon. The doctor explained that the results were unusual, suggesting a bone marrow disorder like a cancer in terminal stage,  however, some parameters were "too normal" for that scenario, while other suggested the probability of that plus co-morbidities.

The doctor considered that the symptoms pointed to a form of poisoning or genetic disorder, but if this later  option were to be the case, Lucas would have exhibited at least some unusual parameters since born.

He asked Lucas if he could send a copy of his medical history and recent test results to a researcher which had some papers suggesting explanations for that sort of results. Lucas give him a signed consent and went home to sleep. Since then he was in constant fever and sometimes had nightmares. He was under the impression that he could feel whenever someone on the street nearby was smoking, and that smell in particular made he feel even sicker.

 It was only three days after he have his consent to the researcher, when he woke up with his door being put down, and with armed men forcing their way through his house.

One of the man shot at Lucas with a electrical wire gun, and the shock made Lucas fall on his knees. Another man then moved forward to try and hit Lucas with the back of his gun, but Lucas was faster and punched the man. He didn't aim too well, so his fist touched not the man's chest, but the man's shotgun, which was broken in the half, but the punch was so strong that the man and the one after him were throw away against the wall, which was broken, as well as the spine of the man who was behind the one with the shotgun.

Immediately, one of the other man took a loaded gun and attempted to point at Lucas, but by the time he was ready to press the trigger, Lucas already had jumped over him and destroyed the gun. Moved by an unknown form of instinct, he killed every single man that were in the room, some of then violently, and all in a matter of seconds.

Another squad of armed men begun to open fire against the room. Lucas was hit in the chest and in the arm but managed to jump of the window. He was pretty sure the jump would lead him to crash onto the ground, and so was very surprised when he managed to fell on his two feet, but the third squad, what were on the street awaiting to charge into the building, opened fire against him.

The squad leader ordered a cease fire and made they put Lucas's bloodied body on the back of a truck. Then the remaining of the military - tough unidentified - team left the scene before the police arrived.

A man falls - Part 3

Lucas woke feeling better. His consciousness was restored, the hallucinations stopped and he could manage, for the time being, the hunger that was beginning to raise inside him.

He found himself sleeping on the floor, dirty as hell, and smelling bad. He remembered what happened but had the impression it was just a nightmare. He tried to imagine alternative explanations, because the idea of being bitten, by a crazy human, was already too unbelievable. The idea of being bitten by something *not human* was definitively part of a nightmare. The explanation Lucas made for himself was that he was robbed by a crazy person that drugged him. Everything was just an hallucination, a crazy history he was far from being ready to share with anyone.

However, there was a flaw on his history: as he reached a road, and a cab passed by, he managed to find lots of money inside his wallet. What kind of crazy thief would leave the money? He then begin to feel worried, what if the guy was a pervert? Oh crap, *that* idea was unconceivable! The idea of vampires begin to sound more feasible.

He got home, a small apartment he shared with other two colleagues. At that time, they already left for work. Lucas attempted to take a fast shower, but the dirty was too much so he had to try again, slowly. When he was already dressed and shaved, the fog on the bathroom's mirror begun to fade away, and he noticed he had two scars on the side of his neck. The scars looked very old.

He then managed to go to work. He was a trainee at a small law firm, Guliver & Smith, which had only begun to draw attention as they managed to defend and set free one of most prominent judges of the supreme court, who was accused of being part of a conspiracy to set a few drug-lords free.

As Lucas entered the building, Sandra, the lobby receptionist, screamed "Good Lord! We thought you were dead!". Lucas got really scared with her scream, and very confused, since he was sure he was only missing for a day.

Sandra continued: "Where the hell were you? The cops gave up searching for your body on the woods five days ago!"

Lucas felt weird, as he thought he only was missing for a day, but something inside him knew she was telling the truth. He begin to breath very fast, and his heart was like it would blow away.

He managed to calm down a little, and asked her: "But how the cops knew I was in the woods? I woke in there this morning, and I don't quite remember what happened to me."

Sandra was astonished. She replied: "They found your blood outside a bar, near the trash. They concluded you had a fight, probably someone tried to steal your money and you fought back ... the trail lead to the river, and they tried to find your body for two days, until someone noticed several blood marks on the sideways of the road nearby, and again, the tests revealed the blood to be yours. They searched for three days, and then gave up. We tried to contact your relatives but couldn't find anyone. I think the TV reported your disappearance for the entire state, tough."

Before she could finish her last sentence, Richard Smith, one of the lawyers, the son of Patrick Smith, one of the company's founder, and a very good friend of Lucas, dropped his switcase on the floor and run to Lucas, giving him a hug and a small slap on his face.

- What the hell, Lucas? You almost killed everyone of concern! Where in hell have you been? Wait, don't answer: My father will need to listen to this. He almost cried whenever your face appeared on TV.
- Ok, Ok, but please, let me come to my room and leave my stuff in there.
- Alright, but how did you come here? With the police?
- No, I went home and took a cab. I woke in the woods this morning, I didn't know this much days had passed!
- Holy crap! Sandra, can you call the cops and ask for the detective in charge of Lucas case? He needs to know he is good and well, and I'm sure he will ask Lucas to go to the police station to give his testimony.
- Yes Mr. Smith, Right away.
- Sandra, I told you before; You can call me Richard. I feel as old as my father when you call me as a I call him.
Sandra laughed, and picked the phone.

Richard and Lucas took the elevator to the 10th floor, where Lucas used to work. Although the elevator was empty when they got in, and that it went straight to the 10th floor, by the time they got there, most people on the building was already aware that Lucas was back, so when the elevator's door opened, Lucas was welcomed by about sixty people, and more than half of then didn't work on that floor.

Mr. Patrick Smith went down to the 10th floor and announced he would excuse everyone from the firm from not working that day, if they wish to attend to the party the firm would gave to Lucas.

Lucas was feeling a bit uncomfortable, and he thought to himself "what if I went missing to use drugs or something? Now they throw me a party, that's weird".

They made a little celebration, as Lucas told his story over and over again. Mr Patrick remembered he had to attend to the court in about half a hour, and asked to speak to the judge on the phone. The judge got so impressed with the story that he rescheduled the court session to the next day, and declared the day as a city holiday (a thing that by law only the city major could do, but the major didn't contest that later, as he liked the idea very much).

A press conference was scheduled to 8h p.m., but the conference room of the firm was too small, so a hotel two blocks away was kind enough to lend theirs. The Major, the judge and almost every personality on the city managed to get there. Some were forgotten, and got pissed of. Other were invited but couldn't get in, as the conference room was completely full half an hour before the ceremony begun.

Every major TV station on the state sent a team, and some of them would rebroadcast their version of the story nationwide.

Lucas was lost in the woods and confused by the morning, but at night, he was very famous. What a day.

A man falls - Part 2

Lucas woke upside down, with the head under the water, and his right foot stuck in a pile of junk on the river's margin. He managed, with some difficulty, to release his foot and get off the water.
His skin was pale, with a tone of blue, but he didn't feel cold. Although he was probably as strong as before, he begun to feel as if he was weak, and the feeling was getting worse. As the poison was still in the way of getting him to transform, he had constant hallucinations and fever, and, in despair, he ran inside the forest, and there remained, in horror, for quite a few days.

To understand the process of how a human transforms into a vampire, we have, however, to get back a "few" years in time.

Contrary to common belief, pure vampires aren't monsters, and in fact, never were. They also don't have long canine teeth or anything else that could, esthetically, denounce them as vampires.
They have, however, super strength and other attributes which they generally manage to hide.

One of these primitive vampires is supposed to have transfused it's own blood into a dying young woman he fell in love with, thus creating the first impure vampire, or, vampire-human. Since pure blood vampires live a secret life, most legends and tales only talks about vampire-humans, referring to them simply as vampires.

Back to our tale, the science of that old age wasn't advanced enough to allow the vampire to understand why her loved one got sick frequently, needing transfusions from time to time.

The story tells that they had a son, Andrauss, and that he was born healthy, and without manifesting any of his father's attributes, until the age of twenty two. At this time, he also begun to have similar symptoms as his mother. One day, his father was a bit exhausted from giving too much blood from himself to his mother, and she then transfused him her own blood.

The father was surprised as Andrauss got away without transfusions for about two weeks, which was almost seven times more than he could stay without his father blood. He then begun to experiment on blood transfusions of different kinds, having for source cow blood, then dogs, and other such common animals. The vampire-human rejected all these kinds of blood, which either didn't do any good, or even made him feel sicker.

One day, the father found in a human friend a voluntary who gave him a bit of his own blood. He tried injecting that on Andrauss, one of the times he was very sick, only to find him getting better in a matter of minutes, and again, sustain his health for another two weeks.

The records aren't very clear, but it's stated that Andrauss married and had twelve sons, of which nine were boys, and that after his human spouse died in an accident, he retired to live with his father and mother. The three of them always lived in country-like places, away from crouds and the noise of civilization. They had to change location from time to time, because it was difficult to explain why they didn't age a single day, as the years passed. Whenever the couple received the visit of his grandchildren, they had to lie that they were brothers of Andrauss, because they also developed the vampire qualities around their twenty years, and since then, didn't age a single day, either, making their father looks like a friend or brother of the same age.

One of Andrauss sons, which by that time was called Augustus, got very fond of politics and the affair of state in general, and so managed to get popular in roman empire court, as a very intelligent politician and public servant. He was also perceived as a man of kindness, who was uncomfortable with all kinds of injustice.

Using his influence, he managed to acquire a property, around Pompeii, by the age 18 d.c., and relocated there his entire family, including his grandma and grandpa. As the decades passed, they managed to build a very beautiful village and the most beautiful garden ever seen around there.

With the passing of the years, tough, the Roman elite got very found of Pompeii, and many senators, and even the emperor, begin to spend more and more time in there. Pompeii became a city for the intellectual and the young as well, and all this attention begun to be a threat to the vampire family. However, Augustus was very admired and the story tells that whenever he acquired any slaves, he immediately set them free. If any of his employees ever found out about his secrets and/or of any member of his family, he probably managed to keep the secret to himself. Augustus family was taken as very reserved, so they could fake the "rebirth" of his relatives under a different name. Augustus managed to disguise his youngness through makeup for several decades. He even felt psychologically older, and used to walk, talk and gesticulate as an old man would do. 

In a beautiful day, in the year 79 a.c., the Pompeii croud gathered to a celebration of the Roman empire. An emissary of the emperor himself was present, and everyone, including all of Augustus uncles and aunts, went to the street to see the presentations, which were among the most beautiful ever seen, even to present day.

And in this climate of party and joy, not even the vampires realized that when the burning lava got down from the Vesuvius, it was already too late to run, or to savage anything.

The vampire's village was, indeed, one of the first buildings to be destroyed, along with everyone inside, followed to the city's main exit, and then, downtown, where most of the crowd gathered.

Of Andrauss and his family, the only remaining were some of Augustus cousins, which stayed at their homes, away of Pompeii's fate, but some of them without their parents or anyone else to take care for them.

The younger one begun to starve from a hunger that human science couldn't yet handle, and that the psychology of such a young creature was too fragile to endure...

And it was by that time, that the human-vampires developed the ability and the deep desire for human blood, as a means of both relieving their sickness symptoms. Aided by the guilty, horror and insanity the twisted vampire-human himself had to face, made of him a terrible monster, whose image was transmitted to his sons, which he conceived by slaving female victims and raping them. These children were raised more like animals than human beings, and in time, the flexible, morphing physiology of the vampires developed the long canines which allows then to inject their own blood on the victims, causing temporary paralysis, allowing then to feed without having to fight their victims.

All of this slowly took the state of things to be as they are today ...

-- To be continued  ...