April 8, 1515 - Congo

     As I pull my fangs from another tribesman’s throat, I look around the decimated village. Bodies strewn across the ground. Blood boiling in the fire. But that is not what my eyes rest on. Looking down at me with its hollow eyes, sharp teeth, and claws like knives, I see the statue of this tribe’s guardian and I get the feeling that it is not merely an idol. Perhaps, I shouldn’t have come here.

     Feeling the deadly gaze, I look over my shoulder and see the eyes from the statue staring back at me. Only this time, they are real, black and cold, but still piercing. How strange that a vampire would protect humans but then again, people do all sorts of things to be treated as a god. I turn to face the nameless vampire. I suppose it’s time someone shows him just how moral he really is.