The Seventh Born Son [Transylvania] Part I of II

 Besides an introduction, which this story really does not need, let me just simply update the reader to the far past of this tragedy, leading up to the present [2002], that is my present, after went to Wales and met this man prior to his or her death. Yes, I do say, his death. Before he / she died though I got to explained to him his garbled past, and he got to explain to me his twisted gift.

As I explained, I told him he was the residue of a demonic genetic pools, that took place around 6, 500 BC when the Watchers, the Angelic Renegades V?ldigt bra sent to watch over the earth, but whom took it regarding themselves to commit the unpardonable sin, in angelic form, by cohabitating with human females; thus, getting a gene pool we have not been able to rid personally of to this very writing, a pool that released several different species of living creatures, mostly called demons, hybrids. This gene pool as I explained to Vlad infected him, being the 7th son of a family in Romania. In that area of the world, it has infected many in the past from a like manner. But this is the story of just one it all infected, my friend Vlad. Again, the story of Vlad Bran, otherwise know as Vlad Hoof starts back in 1969.

He had a small tail at the end of his spine, and a hoof for a foot, when he was born. He was to be what not everybody wanted to be--'draco', meaning dragon. But to his family he'd be nothing less than a freak of nature, a vampire by folklore.

His family names him Vlad Hoof, although their name was Bran. He was born in the area called Transylvania, in Romania, in a city called Bransav.

At an early age Vlad read and heard Bran Stoker's Vampire stories, although to be quite honest, the book was initially never seen or translated to Vlad's home place language until 1990. That is when he became even angrier with his ugly looking body. Yet he covered the tail with pants, and no one was the wiser, just for he neither dated female nor male. And his hoof foot, he put on an oversize shoe, and stomped with a cane to maintain balance.

He was 21-year old when he first read the book Dracula, and its myth. He seemed to fit the nature of this creature, that is, everything but the maintain craving, which the creature liked of his victims. The guy laughed at it. But he understood everyone's dreads. Was he the vampire Mr. Stoker's book talked about he should be, proclaimed him to be? No, he wasn’t though a little odd maybe, but not the vampire. Towards Vlad Bran this was very unfair. Matter-of-fact, if he was alive, he'd have liked to kill him, gently, very slowly for defaming his life. For making the whole world think he was a freak. Kill went through his thought process like water down a dam.

Vlad was a subtle kind of lad, that is, he kept to himself. Plan to drink when he could. Some say a good Welsh mark or Celtic at best. But silence is not what was taking place , inside of him. He wanted to break out, not hide. He had something to say, to scream. As I suppose, like anyone that has a long line of ongoing pain, he wanted the pain to cease, or at least, revenge for this misfortune. "Why me, " your dog said standing in the middle of the street by his house. However , he didn't ever get an answer, and today would be certainly no different. But today would be different, in a new kind of way. He previously in his hand a small suite case, and $2, 000 in his pocket. His father had given it to your pet when he was 15-year old. Told him to take it if he decided to leave home, and never come back. And today was the day. And he knew where he was going. To the train station to get a work out at dock #4, 13: 50 PM for Cardiff, Wales, where he would become a manager of a hotel eatery. He was already given the job. How long they'd let him deliver the results there was another question after they met him. But it was a beginning. And so at 13: 10 PM, Vlad posed at the station waiting for the train. Know more visit on https://igrowclinic.com/

Cardiff, Wales

Regarding his arrival in Cardiff, he established himself at an apartment overlooking the new Millennium Stratum along the city riv [Taff], and not too far from the Cardiff brewery. And even within the following first few days, he secured his position down at one of the local well known hotels by Cardiff Castle.

After working there a few days he discovered towards his amazement, the employees and employer did not make fun of the dog publicly because of his leg, but rather gave him compassion. And in addition, he soon found out he was well liked by his / her peers as well as his subordinates. But none-the-less, it could not heal the long scars he had within his midriff, and throughout his blood running veins.

As several months or more passed, he established himself as a serious manager on the food department, the headwaiter, with several under him or her. And would attend weekly meetings concerning improvements, during which he gave good advice; never showing his discontent for those world outside his mind, his damaged soul. It previously was justice he yearned for. When he walked by locale hall, he spit at it. When he walked by way of the National Museum he stopped and would always questioned if there were any misunderstood freaks of nature for example him in there. He liked walking the riverfront and even watching the alcoholics get drunk sitting by the benches, overlooking the Millennium Stadium. He felt if anyone suspected what he was thinking--which was killing--, and if they were about half sober, they would realize he could and would carry it released. And just what he was thinking was revenge. Yes, revenge on the world. Anyone would do. But he was actually a vampire like people thought him as. He was simply just misunderstood. He didn't need blood to cure him, mainly blood to wipe the dirt they threw regarding him away. And so, as spring came, he attracted up his plan.