These are the journal entries of a centuries old vampire, Nicolas Rider. Welcome to his world...

Monday, March 2, 2020

May 13, 1938 - Cleveland

     The snow blows in through the shattered glass. This abandoned factory once held the futures of so many middle-class workers. Now, it only houses dirty needles of the lost and the corpse next to me. Her death is almost reflective of this factory in its own way. Once so full of life, now she is only a shell that grows colder by the day. Her dreams, her future, is gone. Floating away with the flurry of flakes that dust her skin.
     When I saw her standing in the snow,waiting for a taxi, I did not plan for her to die. A much different carnal need was driving me. However, to be honest, I suppose I knew it would end this way regardless. She gave me her body and I took so much more.  It was not a lack of control. I was not overcome by my inner demon. It is simply a lack of value. Most human lives are not worth more than the meal they provide. Much in the same manner a human values the life of a cow. Sure, a farmer might enjoy their cows as pets. But when push comes to shove, a cow is a cow and dinner still needs to be served.