She is. The same
woman I called on last night. A beauty that is clueless about the beast she is
sleeping with. I step onto her porch and knock lightly, knowing which need I
plan to fill, but when she opens the door my throat is set on fire. Smiling at
me, she stands in the doorway covered in fake blood from the Halloween party
she just returned from. Even without the smell to tempt me, the sight of
crimson on her skin makes my mouth water. I smile, knowing that not one but two
needs will be filled tonight.
These are the journal entries of a centuries old vampire, Nicolas Rider. Welcome to his world...
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
October 31, 1962 - Cleveland
We leave for Germany in a matter of hours but there
is still time for one more need to be filled. Walking along the dark streets it
is hard not to notice the children unknowingly dressed up as me. With their
capes and bulky plastic teeth, they make me smile to myself but they are not
who I am looking for.
Monday, October 22, 2012
October 22, 1573 - Sitia
My feet
pound against the sand, leaving behind my shallow imprints but they will be
masked by padding paws soon enough. The wind pushes against my face as I race
along the shoreline, the sound of growls and snapping teeth not far behind me.
I leap forward, tucking my body and roll across the beach, grabbing a large
piece of driftwood. Bounding up, I slam the wood into one of the werewolves’
jaw, splintering it into the air. Another wolf leaps at me and we collide onto
the ground. I kick him away and roll onto my feet as the third wolf jumps at
me. Running toward him, I shove the driftwood up into his skull from under his
chin and slam his body to the ground.
I hurry to
the first wolf which is lying on the ground unconscious and snap his neck
quickly, leaving his human body, naked and dead, in the sand. The second wolf
bites into my leg and drags me down. I grasp at the beach but the sand just
slides between my fingers. Driving my foot into his face, I kick him off and
his teeth dig gouges in my muscles but that does not stop me from grabbing his
fur and pulling him into the water. I push him under and ignore the way his
claws dig into my arm and watch his last breath make its escape.
Monday, October 15, 2012
January 2, 1615 - Madrid
I try to
avoid this place. There is too much old death to make it pleasing. But this is
where he is. Because of me. I kneel down close to the little tombstone and run
my fingers over the name I stole. But this name is not the only thing I claimed
from him. I also took his life, all six years of it. In that moment, I looked
into his blank eyes and saw what I had become. I saw the monster I didn't want
to be. I had taken his life but he had given me back mine in the process. Never
again has a child’s blood touched my lips.
I lay my
flowers along his grave as a tear rolls from my cheek and drops onto the
ground. Whispering my apologies, I stand up to leave but I will be back because
this is where he is. Because of me.
Monday, October 8, 2012
July 28, 1623 - Atlantic Ocean
While the rocking
of the ship lulls most of the crew asleep, I stare ahead into the immense
darkness, out over the ocean to a land not yet visible by the man in the crow’s
nest. Far in the distance, it calls to me, promising vulnerable towns still
trying to build themselves on brotherhood, easily discarded bodies, and the fun
that a maturing nation can bring. I have waited longer than preferred to come here but that
wait is over now.
There were so
many things I did not know of as a human. This world did not exist to me at one
time but like vampires, it has revealed itself to me at last. As a smile
spreads across my face, I watch the slowly enlarging coastline, wondering what
I will find there. There will surely be those who have fallen short of the dreams they came here with. But when they find me, they will beg for their wretched lives.
Monday, October 1, 2012
December 25, 1620 - Madrid
Christmas means something different to
everyone. It is suppose to be a time of celebration. A time for families to
come together, enjoying the company. A time for food and charity for others. But
growing up, Christmas was not a happy day. It was a day of remembering that my
mother was not with us. A day when my father would drink himself into a slumber while I felt even more alone with my hunger.
I suppose
that is why I make such a fuss over it now, making up for my childhood. I have
spent days planning and preparing a meal for our enthralled humans, our sheep
as we call them. They will eat until their stomachs grow tight and full. It is
the least I can do since most of them won’t live much longer. After all,
they’re not the only ones feasting today.
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