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

Monday, January 13, 2014

March 11, 1753 – St. Petersburg

     The snow crunches under his feet. His heavy steps make him easy to follow. Arrogant and oppressive, he tends to order and beat his wife like a dog. If you were to ask, he would say he loves her but we shall about that. 
He opens the door to his home and to the surprise I’ve left for him. His face goes pale when he sees her, blood spilled across the floor, her eyes hazed over, and her skin colder than mine. He rushes to her with tears filling his eyes, screaming his pain into the night. Perhaps he did care for her some after all. Before even sees me in the door, my fangs are in his throat. I fill my belly, trying to quench my thirst but knowing that to be impossible and turn to see the only witness to my crime. Less than two years, he stares at me from his seat in the pool of crimson near his mother. Kneeling down beside him, I rub his cheek, streaking blood on his pale skin, and tell him sweet lies about how everything is alright before I leave him alone, waiting to be found by a better family.