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Description
"Sometimes, when I drift on the edge of sleep, I pray, hoping that God will hear my pleas, 'Cuándo yo ando en el Valle de la Sombra de la Muerte, yo no temo el mal porque usted es conmigo.' ”

“ 'As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for you are with me.' ”

"They say that we fear holy objects, that we fear the cross and that we are burned if it touches our skin. I can tell you for a fact that this is not true. I still wear a gold cross on a thin black cord around my neck. It had to be gold though. The few pieces of silver jewelry I used to wear left welts and blisters where they touched my skin. I sold them. It got me enough money to live on for a little while. I probably could have made it last longer, but I wasn’t as frugal then as I am now..."

"I don’t waste money on motels anymore. Money can buy blood, and hotel rooms always have too much sunlight, and never drapes that were thick enough. So I sleep in abandoned buildings, back alleys, anywhere I can avoid the sun. Blood gets really expensive, especially in the summer, so I supplement it with other things: Broth, sugar water, soda. Never diet soda. I need every calorie I can get. And to think I used to spend all my time dieting (you have no idea how much I miss Twinkies and Cupcakes)."

"The changes happened slowly, and painfully. I was violently ill for three days, the sun hurt my eyes, and I had a thirst I could not quench. I couldn’t keep solid food down, it was too painful to try and eat. I was able to eat simple things, jello, broth, juice and other liquids but it still wasn’t enough. The thirst was too strong..."

"Over a while, I learned more about what I was. I can safely say that most of it is baloney, rumors and superstitions brought about by too many bad gothic novels and B-movies. For one thing, it is not some mystical or demonic curse. It is a disease, a simple virus, but that does not make it any less potent. The virus itself does not kill. In fact it lengthens life, makes it harder to be killed in some ways, but with some things, it makes us so vulnerable. Like sunlight. Sunlight burns us so easily, we could actually watch as our skin blistered and peeled. A few minutes in the sun, and I would crack open like an overripe pomegranate and bleed to death. Not a very pleasant way to go..."

"Perhaps if I had told them earlier, things would be different, but they found out along with everyone else in the church. It was when the wafer hit my stomach, and the cramping and pain became so bad that I fell to the ground screaming in agony. They gave me wine, and that stopped the pain, by helping me expel the contents of my stomach."

"I lay there on the ground sobbing in pain, as the priest muttered over me in Latin, I have no idea for how long. My mother recoiled in fear when I stood up. My frail old grandmother stood there, defiantly, hurling obscenities at me, calling me ‘fiend’, ’devil’ and ‘unclean thing’. I cannot describe how much those words hurt me. All I could do was sob as I pleaded with them. I cried, begging for them to forgive me, to take me back. She spat at me, yelled at me to get out, that I was not welcome in God‘s house."

"I was lucky it had been raining that day. Had the sun been out, I would have let it take me."

"Grandma gave me this cross when I was little. I can’t even remember when, I was so young. But I will never part with it, because Grandma gave it to me. I don’t even know if she is still alive or not, but I love her, even if she no longer loves me."

"I woke up sometime in the evening, the metallic, salty taste of blood still lingering on my tongue. I lay there, shivering in the cold night air, trying to recall what I had done."

"I had said that this disease in some ways makes us harder to kill. One of the ways, is we cannot starve ourselves to death. If we go without eating we become weak, but if we go too long without food, we lose touch with ourselves, becoming like a cornered animal."

"It is at those times, when we are at our most vulnerable, that we are most dangerous."

"It was sometime in late December. It may even have been Christmas, but I had gone too long without food. Normally the holidays are a good time for us. Lots of blood, people feeling generous and donating. But this year there was a disaster somewhere, an earthquake, or a war, or some other horrific calamity. There was nothing to eat, no handouts, or even blood to buy. I remember getting weaker and weaker, until I couldn’t remember myself anymore. I must have blacked out somewhere along the line, because I cannot remember what happened."

"I still have no idea. I don‘t know what scares me more, the thought that I may have killed someone, or the thought that I condemned them to live the same un-life that has become my fate. I remember breaking down in tears, not able to even to sit up."

"All I could do was lie there and cry myself back to sleep, a few words escaping my lips between sobs, 'Dios tenga la misericordia con mi alma.' "

" 'God have mercy on my soul.' "

-from "The Diary of Estrella Martinez"-

A drawing I made while sitting in the hall waiting for English class over a few weeks. It was based upon an idea I had for a story, but more story evolved from drawing this picture than I had previously planned. Many thanks to the friends who helped translate the Spanish passages for me.

Drawn in graphite on cardstock.

Description
"Sometimes, when I drift on the edge of sleep, I pray, hoping that God will hear my pleas, 'Cuándo yo ando en el Valle de la Sombra de la Muerte, yo no temo el mal porque usted es conmigo.' ”

“ 'As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for you are with me.' ”

"They say that we fear holy objects, that we fear the cross and that we are burned if it touches our skin. I can tell you for a fact that this is not true. I still wear a gold cross on a thin black cord around my neck. It had to be gold though. The few pieces of silver jewelry I used to wear left welts and blisters where they touched my skin. I sold them. It got me enough money to live on for a little while. I probably could have made it last longer, but I wasn’t as frugal then as I am now..."

"I don’t waste money on motels anymore. Money can buy blood, and hotel rooms always have too much sunlight, and never drapes that were thick enough. So I sleep in abandoned buildings, back alleys, anywhere I can avoid the sun. Blood gets really expensive, especially in the summer, so I supplement it with other things: Broth, sugar water, soda. Never diet soda. I need every calorie I can get. And to think I used to spend all my time dieting (you have no idea how much I miss Twinkies and Cupcakes)."

"The changes happened slowly, and painfully. I was violently ill for three days, the sun hurt my eyes, and I had a thirst I could not quench. I couldn’t keep solid food down, it was too painful to try and eat. I was able to eat simple things, jello, broth, juice and other liquids but it still wasn’t enough. The thirst was too strong..."

"Over a while, I learned more about what I was. I can safely say that most of it is baloney, rumors and superstitions brought about by too many bad gothic novels and B-movies. For one thing, it is not some mystical or demonic curse. It is a disease, a simple virus, but that does not make it any less potent. The virus itself does not kill. In fact it lengthens life, makes it harder to be killed in some ways, but with some things, it makes us so vulnerable. Like sunlight. Sunlight burns us so easily, we could actually watch as our skin blistered and peeled. A few minutes in the sun, and I would crack open like an overripe pomegranate and bleed to death. Not a very pleasant way to go..."

"Perhaps if I had told them earlier, things would be different, but they found out along with everyone else in the church. It was when the wafer hit my stomach, and the cramping and pain became so bad that I fell to the ground screaming in agony. They gave me wine, and that stopped the pain, by helping me expel the contents of my stomach."

"I lay there on the ground sobbing in pain, as the priest muttered over me in Latin, I have no idea for how long. My mother recoiled in fear when I stood up. My frail old grandmother stood there, defiantly, hurling obscenities at me, calling me ‘fiend’, ’devil’ and ‘unclean thing’. I cannot describe how much those words hurt me. All I could do was sob as I pleaded with them. I cried, begging for them to forgive me, to take me back. She spat at me, yelled at me to get out, that I was not welcome in God‘s house."

"I was lucky it had been raining that day. Had the sun been out, I would have let it take me."

"Grandma gave me this cross when I was little. I can’t even remember when, I was so young. But I will never part with it, because Grandma gave it to me. I don’t even know if she is still alive or not, but I love her, even if she no longer loves me."

"I woke up sometime in the evening, the metallic, salty taste of blood still lingering on my tongue. I lay there, shivering in the cold night air, trying to recall what I had done."

"I had said that this disease in some ways makes us harder to kill. One of the ways, is we cannot starve ourselves to death. If we go without eating we become weak, but if we go too long without food, we lose touch with ourselves, becoming like a cornered animal."

"It is at those times, when we are at our most vulnerable, that we are most dangerous."

"It was sometime in late December. It may even have been Christmas, but I had gone too long without food. Normally the holidays are a good time for us. Lots of blood, people feeling generous and donating. But this year there was a disaster somewhere, an earthquake, or a war, or some other horrific calamity. There was nothing to eat, no handouts, or even blood to buy. I remember getting weaker and weaker, until I couldn’t remember myself anymore. I must have blacked out somewhere along the line, because I cannot remember what happened."

"I still have no idea. I don‘t know what scares me more, the thought that I may have killed someone, or the thought that I condemned them to live the same un-life that has become my fate. I remember breaking down in tears, not able to even to sit up."

"All I could do was lie there and cry myself back to sleep, a few words escaping my lips between sobs, 'Dios tenga la misericordia con mi alma.' "

" 'God have mercy on my soul.' "

-from "The Diary of Estrella Martinez"-

A drawing I made while sitting in the hall waiting for English class over a few weeks. It was based upon an idea I had for a story, but more story evolved from drawing this picture than I had previously planned. Many thanks to the friends who helped translate the Spanish passages for me.

Drawn in graphite on cardstock.