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.    
     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. 

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.