Passio Serpentis

Dear mother,
As you may know, I have died at the Battle of the White Mountain. A Bohemian round hit me square in the face. Shattering it. Piercing straight through my eye. But don't worry, mother, I didn't suffer. I barely felt it at all.
I remember falling onto the ground, and everything around me quickly faded. There wasn't time to fear or hurt. It all went by so quickly. Fortunately for me, I could see the heavens opening up above me. An angel descended. It was so beautiful, so pure. I still remember the warmth I felt when it wrapped its snow-white wings around me. I was ready to meet our Lord, God.
I thought the bliss would last for an eternity.
Then the pain came, a horrible, burning pain in every organ. I thought I was in hell.
A mistake.
I had been a man of God my entire life. I've died fighting the heretics!
I heard the tortured screaming of the damned all around me.
The agonized wailing was everywhere.
It grew closer.
Louder.
Until it finally woke me up from my eternal slumber.
I woke up screaming.
I was burning, Mother; I was freezing all at once.
Surrounded by Easterners.
Somehow, I was alive again. Somehow, these foreigners brought me back.
Delirious, my body trembled. None of it made sense, none of it was possible. I knew I was dead. I could feel the cold winter breeze caressing my empty eye socket. Attempting to rise to my feet, I fell. My body was still too weak. Collapsing to the floor, I saw him. He was standing over me, with tears in his eyes.
Father.
Falling to his knees, as I stared at him dumbfounded, he embraced me. His touch was so welcoming and warm, his tears searing my skin, almost. Father brought me back. For a moment, I thought all was well again.
It didn't take long for me to realize that nothing was well. Whatever father had done, it was a crime against nature and against God. I can no longer stand the sight of the Cross, Mother! It pierces my remaining eye, as if it were a heated blade, forcing me to avert my gaze.
Perhaps I am a demon now.
I certainly look like one, mother. My skin is as ashen as that of the moribund. My scarred face - the devil's likeness!
I am no longer one for this world, mother! I feel nothing, no joy, nor sorrow, nor heat, nor cold. The rays of the sun seem to shy away from me. The sun, it's light, they turn away from me. I am nothing but a pariah. An exile condemned to wander the earth until death takes him once more. Touch is no longer pleasant. It is nothing. I am a prisoner inside a carcass. Tormented by aches of burning hunger that won't go away unless...
I am sorry mother. I am writing to you to confess and apologize for what 
I've done.
Your son is a rabid animal at the service of the devil.
I have killed my own father.
I killed him and I drank his blood like I did to so many other poor souls. All to stop the unrelenting clawing of lust.
I took my father's life and feasted on his flesh like a wild dog, to avoid going mad with the hunger.
I am so sorry
I am so sorry
I am so sorry
I am
Forgive the stains, I am weeping the same blood I must drink to maintain any semblance of self. Weeping without any real sorrow, my body bleeds instinctually, overcome with the vision of my father pulling me in closer as I sank my teeth into his neck.
I am so sorry mother…
I wish I could sincerely tell you I love you, but these days it seems like the only thing I am capable of being affectionate towards is the deathly dread I inspire in the eyes of man. 
I feel like the terror arising in the face of the end is the only thing that makes me feel somewhat alive. 
I hope, and I pray with the moon as my witness, that we may never meet again. For your own sake, dear mother. In the case we do meet again, please make sure I am beheaded and the headless my headless remains are either nailed to the soil or burned so I may never rise again. Even then, I'm not sure I will remain put.
Any attempt at injuring me seems to be futile. This demon-possessed vessel simply repaired any wounds inflicted upon me by my victims. I do not know how or when I am going to finally expire, but I will try my best to vanish from human eyes, for as long as I may control the wretched hunger.
I wish you a long life and a good health. I know you will take good care of Sophie, Paul, Georg and Lisabeth.
I am going to attach our family crest to the seal of this letter, just in case.
Farewell,
Your son, Herman von Teutenborg.
Category:Beings
Category:History
Category:MLycantrope