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


Thursday, July 2, 2020

July 11, 1841 - Mt Everest

     The snow swirls around me in a hurry with no place to go except into the silent abyss. The silence of the night reaches even the coldest parts of these mountains. For a human, a trip up this mountain is a completely different experience than a vampire. Humans spend weeks, sometimes months, hiking this mountain in particular. A rite, the mountain, calls them, tempts them, and, sometimes, it claims them. Vampires can do this hike in less than a day, careful to avoid the sun. Peeking into the troposphere, humans find the limited oxygen debilitating. Vampires do not need to breathe; therefore the crushing of our lungs is minimal. 
     Still, it is no wonder why humans risk so much to be here. Sitting on top of the world does have a soothing, humbling effect. Even in the dark, the view is not lost on my eyes. The world and all its turbulence is lost to an ocean of clouds wrapping around the neighboring peaks. Serene and peaceful, the mountains tower above everything. Everything except the monster inside of me. My hunger cannot be escaped. Not even at this height can a vampire rise above its most primal need.  It pushes against me as strongly as the wind here. Some say that humans should fear this mountain; but humans should not waste their fear on inanimate things.  Humans should respect the mountain. They should fear creatures like me.