Meet Ruth Davis Hays:
Hi! Considering I am a new (rather unknown) author, it might be best to introduce myself. The blank page is so intimidating that I will attempt to fill this one as quickly as possible. My name is Ruth. I was named for my maternal grandmother, one of the most charitable, kindhearted women I have ever known, and my love for literature came from my maternal grandfather. It has not been until lately that I have realized what a large role my family played in my loves and views on the world. I had a simple childhood. Good parents, lots of pets, and my sister would involve me in elaborate games of “make believe” where we took on characters and ad-libbed for hours through adventures in our backyard.
Following my sister in pursuit of the stage, a desire for acting out other people’s lives moved from pantomime skits in 4H to a Bachelor’s degree at Florida State University’s School of Theatre.
While life on the stage was internally satisfying, it became dwarfed by time spent in the libraries of the college doing research, not only for my history and literary classes, but also for my costume classes. The remembered aroma mingling with the crinkle of dry pages still gives me a thrill. I could spend all day huddled between the towering rows of books, letting my mind wander. I often have dreams of forgetting to go to class because I am still sifting among the hard bound volumes, imagining what it would be like to live in the clothes or situations of another time. That was one of my problems in school: daydreaming.
I think I spent the better part of my school career in my mind, tripping along the paths of a long dead world. Sometimes these daydreams made their way onto paper, when I wasn’t scribbling research papers or studying for plays. My desire to write came from being a frustrated actor, really. There were hundreds of auditioning girls at college that fit the same category as I did (looks-wise), so I shifted to character roles and then simply vented through my writing.
In high school, my writing mainly consisted of romantic tales involving an awkward, young girl mooning over the object of her affection, until her love was eventually requited by said object, who was either: A) a pop star, B) a rich, reclusive philanthropist, or C) a self-destructive vampire. Not the most impressive story plots, granted. However, at that time, books containing similar ideas were not as cliché and plentiful as they are nowadays, and they served their purpose for this shy adolescent.
By the time I was in college, (still with no romance in real life) the stories became a slightly more sadistic attempt to kill that innocent youth and her frustration at a lonely world. That is from where this story sprang. It does involve vampires, and I stopped writing it when the classic, creeping horror that is ‘the Vampire’ no longer filled the void in my psyche and I no longer wanted to destroy that “high school” girl who was stuck in a small town, seeking release.
I have given her another world on which to play. But, that is another tale for another time.
–Ruth Davis Hays
This story I called “The Blood Seed.” It was scribbled out in scenes and loose notes from the years 1986 to around 1993.
Originally conceived as a trilogy that would span many years (until a final apocalyptic ending for the vampire empire), I only got partially done with any of the novels. I hope that through this blog, I might be able to complete the beginning of the tale.
THE BLOOD SEED – by Ruth Hays
It was just a small microorganism. One cell, that’s all. Safely stowed in a small asteroid, hurtling carelessly through space. It was confined and uncomfortable. But then, it was only one little cell. What harm could its discomfort do?
The path of the frozen floating rock as it spun farther from the home to which it had once belonged, was interrupted by the birth of its new home. An embryonic planet that was still unnerved by speeding pieces of space debris colliding with it. The impact of the small asteroid made only a minute disturbance on the planet’s surface. Not enough to worry the heaving crust, as it shuffled and shoved the pieces of stone around until it was satisfied with the arrangement and settled down to some real growth.
Soon, the small asteroid cracked and, entirely too warm for the microorganism’s pleasure, was covered by the cooling waters of the sea. The life-giving sea.
The little cellular creature felt the tender caress of the ocean’s molecules as the water seeped into the cracks and crevasses of the asteroid. The strong, thick waters gave support to the tired and strained wall of the little cell. This was better than space. It did not need the restraints of the rock to keep it safe. Safe from the painful expansion. The water was good. Its soothing pressure cradled the microbe, and invited it to explore its new world.
The microbe did. It found this planet to be very good.
This little creature drifted out into a newborn ocean, and perceived the vast, seemingly limitless expanse of its surroundings. But, it was not alone in this birthing place. This, too, was good.
Modern science is far from exact on some topics. It guesses and attempts to confirm its guess. It is difficult for science to measure or gauge the vast types of intelligences in the universe. In fact, if it does not know that a certain type of intelligent being even exists, it is extremely difficult to measure just how intelligent that being is.
Science was not there to confirm the rebirth of this organism. The only witnesses to its emergence were other single-celled organisms trying to gain their own foothold on the Earth.
The little, intelligent cellular being copied the multiplication act of the beings around it. It was a fast learner. It was hungry. It was built to survive…
And, it did.
No one can know how it grew, how it changed. No one can really say what forms and shapes it took, for it knew that to survive, it must adapt.
It grew and evolved alongside what scientists call ‘our primordial ancestors.’ It changed, it fed.
It finally adapted enough to crawl from the mud of the oceans and gain a foothold in the lands of air-breathing creatures. It changed still. It multiplied the only way it had learned it could.
This species was not filed by researchers, not labeled by modern scientists. It is not known to officially exist. But, it has been given names over the passage of time by many cultures. It is what lurks in the darkness to bring our fears, and darken our nightmares. It infects our cities and villages to serve its survival instinct.
And, it feeds.
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