About this Short Story
The story of a vampire in modern times, told in first person, and the twist is that you never know the identity of the main character, not even it's sex.
Add to Bookshelf
Competitions & Prizes
I like the scent of roses.
I’ve always been surrounded by the smell of blossoming roses. It reminds me so much of my funeral. That great feeling of being buried in silk and roses, and of course, bathed in the tears of all the mourning people. How come we don’t give ourselves this regal treatment while we’re alive? It’s so comfortable and nice. Why humans have to use the best things when they die… when they can’t enjoy them at all? They may live in a small and filthy hut, but when they die they use all the money they have hoarded for decades just to build beautiful chalets for their rotting corpses. Oh, how happy the worms would be if they had eyes to look at the architectural beauty built under command of human stupidity and their futile efforts to reach immortality. Of course I can say I’m lucky because I can still enjoy mine. The architect has a…
Short Story: Vampire Part1
I like the scent of roses.
I’ve always been surrounded by the smell of blossoming roses. It reminds me so much of my funeral. That great feeling of being buried in silk and roses, and of course, bathed in the tears of all the mourning people. How come we don’t give ourselves this regal treatment while we’re alive? It’s so comfortable and nice. Why humans have to use the best things when they die… when they can’t enjoy them at all? They may live in a small and filthy hut, but when they die they use all the money they have hoarded for decades just to build beautiful chalets for their rotting corpses. Oh, how happy the worms would be if they had eyes to look at the architectural beauty built under command of human stupidity and their futile efforts to reach immortality. Of course I can say I’m lucky because I can still enjoy mine. The architect has a great gothic taste; I should pay him a visit and thank him some day.
Have you ever sat back and thought about what you can do for a corpse? Not much besides showing your pain and grief to an unreceptive body.
Maybe that’s why there are only flowers and tears at a funeral. Those same tears and roses now fulfil my memory like a postcard and that image is the only link I now have with the human life I once possessed.
I often think of how scents mark occasions through our lives. How my beloved grandmother’s perfume smelled… the smell of birthday cake… the smell of aeroplanes… of a brand new car… the scent of death… but our marvellous sense is not only for detecting general scents, but pretty determined ones, like distinguishing particulars amongst other smells; it is amazing how the same smell may appear different to other people. For example, my lover’s sweat can be nice for me but the sweat from someone I don’t know means I suffer all the way to work in the subway.
This raises religious thoughts in my head… maybe God is as merciful as everybody says. This damnation has taken from me the pleasures of food, which I cannot taste, or the sense of light which I can’t tolerate, but my ear is now as fine as a dog’s as well as my sight and nose. It’s fine for me. It’s great to hear every note at a concert and feel the music as I know no one else at the theatre will… oh, I’m so blessed… But one thing I can’t remember is how a human thinks or how a human feels.
It’s like I’ve never been one -which of course is not true- but my stubborn memory plays tricks on me yet I have some memories of my past life.
And this ignorance is the source of being so wondered by humans… I can sit there and watch them for hours long. Sometimes I have even miss my feed because I’m so lost in my thoughts and my observances that morning comes and I haven’t touched my studied mortals.
Well… I can do it tomorrow. When there is always a tomorrow, life is so easy… patience is so easily found; peace and harmony is in my heart now.
Well, I am dead; I’m supposed to be in Holy Communion with peace and harmony, am I not? But I haven’t seen God. I’ve seen demons, of course. They lurk the earth and imprison some humans… but let me tell you, humans are worse than any demon I’ve seen. Actually, I’ve seen demons amazed on human actions they never even imagined could be done; and they sometimes hide in the shadows expecting to learn from them… they have enjoyed the lessons.
Once, I had to visit someone in a prison, it was like a university, a myriad of demons were attending classes there, learning from the rapists, criminals and murderers their art… it was like being in Dante’s poem.
I can laugh now when I hear people saying that it was, “Evil’s doing,” or, “the Devil made me do it,” and so. As if they could hear or see them. Humans serve as the devil’s inspiration, not the other way around, no doubt.
But also I’ve seen angels. They are so beautiful. I have watched them caring for and helping people. Some had watched me too. But I hate the looks of piety from their eyes. Because I don’t feel I am a cursed creature, I don’t know why they have that view of me. I kill to eat… just like any of God’s created creatures… why angels don’t look with sorrow to a lion? Or show mercy to those humans at the prisons?! They are true evil, not me! Those angels unquiet my life.
I think humans haven’t figured out “evil” yet. Why do they put medals on a uniformed murderer? Why do they lock up non-uniformed murderers? Is the uniform a way for immunity or holiness? Mankind watched the “holy” church murder hundreds of people just for being an ugly old lady, or an epileptic, or a Jew, or Indian or just some one born deformed. Who says what’s evil anyway…
But let’s stop now with my thoughts. This happens to me all the time. I can talk for hours about everything, and nothing , with almost any body who is willing to listen to my ravaging philosophy, but I certainly don’t want to bore you with my ideas, and meditations. As ancient storytellers used to say, I’m here to tell the tale…
Most vampire literature is full of ancient mythology, myths and old characters. I really don’t know what we are, or where we come from. I’ve been reading a lot and most of the books are kid’s bedtime stories. There is no real clue of the origin of my condition. But I don’t see the problem with that, because mankind doesn’t even know what their origin is either. If humans don’t know where they come from, how are we supposed to know? And of course ancient stories tell this tale in a million different ways. So our history, is only legend. Let me tell you my experience.
There I was in the last part of the Twentieth Century; everything was explained by science, the century of technology where religion was losing territories on human beliefs. Of course I was born, grew and lived as any normal person in the World would. Everything was great except for the war spirit lurking in every corner of the globe.
In those moments, how was I supposed to imagine the mystic –and unbelievable- happenings about to fulfil my life?
Yes, I’ve read Bram Stocker, I watched –and enjoyed- horror films, but to believe it was true… was only a teenager’s nightmare. So, I walked directly to my fate, completely unwarned.
He was a big, handsome and strong white pilot, I found him following the sound of a million curses over the cold and starry night air in the fields of Central Germany. He was telling other pilots about gremlins that had chewed his helicopter and forced him to land abruptly. Of course I laughed. That laughter was responsible for him to look at me; I should say that of course I did not believe the pilot’s story… until he showed me the aircraft. It was a beautiful Bell UH 1D helicopter; Oh, I had always liked that machine. I saw some marks on it, like scratches, but with a closer look, I found myself struggling with my own mind to give reality to the sight and yes, there stood tiny holes with marks like teeth in the tail boom. The aircraft had been chewed… or so it seemed.
The gremlins were stories of Second World War and their mad pilots. And here in Europe, almost at the Twenty-first Century…seemed improbable. I stood looking at bites in the fuselage defying my reason. I’ve been in the medical unit for 10 years and presumed I had lost the capability of being surprised. Not any more.
A few months later we were sent to an air camp in Greece, and there I heard more stories than I could stand of werewolves and vampires or vrikolakas as they called them. With a beer, I could stay up all night listening to folk tales. Those stories filled my brain and fuelled my imagination… I just didn’t think that information would come in handy in the future.
I was happy in the autumn of that year, it was almost my birthday and I was on vacation in Spain. The food was great, the people were so nice, the places so beautiful, the weather was warm and so was the wine.
One night I went to a club. Actually I remember “clubbing” all night. I tried a couple but the music was horrible, and it was getting very late. I was about to go home for the night when I saw what appeared to be a bar or club, it was very filthy, but the music was bearable.
A huge guy –maybe a gypsy- was at the door and he denied me entrance. I answered in sloppy Spanish, that I was a foreigner but that I wanted to blend in; of course he laughed. I was turning away when a man shouted from inside at the guardian, to let me in.
It was a splendid mansion, but being a nightclub it had already suffered damage, it was indeed old, unattained, dirty and bad smelling – even for European standards. There were a few people inside, and they were very quiet, you couldn’t really hear laughter anywhere, just talking voices. But it seemed fine for me in that moment.
The man who let me in, welcomed me in beautifully Spanish accented English. And I was about to ask for a drink when I realized there was no bar and no one was drinking; he offered me a seat in one of the tiny tables and after some chit-chat about the weather, he said, “Well things here are a little bit… unusual, to say it that way.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” was my answer.
In that moment, he opened his hand and a tiny violet capsule was in his palm.
“This is what we do here; you wanted to blend in, right? Here is your chance. Would you like to try?”
He was smiling; it seemed more an invitation than a threat…
I looked around and everybody seemed so calm, nothing appeared to be dangerous; so for the sake of trying new things and having a good night out, I decided to take the capsule.
Was it stupidity? Yes.
Do I regret it? Not now.
All I remember is waking up several hours later in a cheap hotel room, with no bathroom, of course, and the windows blocked with huge wood pieces. I smelled incredibly bad; I do not know how much time elapsed. A little light appeared to glide between the wood into the room. It was not enough to see clearly. I felt horrible. Suddenly I began to vomit and felt every inch of my body hurting as if I had laid on broken glass. This torture took some hours more… until night came again and I felt slightly better and I could stand up. I searched for the electrical switch and turned on the lights. The place was old, mouldy. I looked at my vomit. It was food and drink mixed with blood. I was scared because it felt as if I was expelling my very guts!
I looked at my reflection in a shattered mirror and I could see myself pale and ill. Then I sensed someone was outside my room… I could hear the breathing… and the key moving into the lock, the door opening…
And there he was… the man that gave me the drug. There was a beautiful lady by his side. Both very sharply dressed and accessorized with big smiles. They both kneeled on the bed and kissed me tenderly, each one on the side of my face, their hands softly caressed my body.
First the surprise, then the ethical implications of receiving pleasure from both sexes. I began to feel disgusted because they were so close and I smelled so bad, how come they didn't seem to notice? But it felt so nice, so I surrendered.
I watched as they stood up, kissed at each other and slowly began to undress… then they undressed me… and a scene from any human fantasy was nothing in comparison of what we did that night. I killed her.
In some moments, my memories are confused, amongst the pleasure, I began to feel the pain filling my body, as an outrageous rage filled my mind, my actions were unreasoned, there is a red veil covering my memory of that instant; and the next thing I remember, is licking the blood from a still warm corpse and my new friend laughing as if I was the best joke he had ever heard.
I do remember her pale face, the nice curves of her body and her smell… Chanel 5, -I’ve always loved that scent- “So she was not a cheap hooker after all,” I thought. And he responded to me as if I was talking with my voice raised.
“No, not at all. She was a rich family’s daughter; no doubt… it’s a shame… so young and unaware of this world's dangers…” he let his sarcastic laugh fill the room.
I couldn’t believe it… he listened to my very thoughts!
“Oh, yes I can, and soon you will too.”
This was more than I could take, I shouted, “What are you?”
“What are we? That seems to be a better grammatical construction for that question, my creature.”
I shall take a pause here…for those out there thinking that we are something out of this world…doing impossible things, well think again because it is nothing like that. Had you realized that two persons -with enough time of knowing each other- can read each other’s minds? I’m sure you can do that too. You know somebody so well you can anticipate their moves, their tastes… their thoughts… so it is love and familiarity working, not the energies of the undead. Reading minds… as if it was impossible. Work on your human instincts! Of course in our kind is acerbated, so we can do it with anyone… but that’s another story.
Back to this tale, I couldn’t speak. I was numb and shocked, as a sheep I let him handle me, guide me to the butchers –or so I thought then-. I never resisted. He asked me to dress, and surprised me by taking me to a splendid bathhouse where I was bathed, massaged, and got my hair fixed; new –and nice- clothes were given to me. When I exit the place, I found a wallet full of money and some credit cards in my pocket with my name on them, but no one waiting for me.
It was early night, maybe 10pm or 11pm, and being so gluttonous as I used to be I was amazed by the fact that I was not hungry, at least not for food.
But as the time elapsed, an incredible feeling of anger mixed with anguish took me, that night I understood the meaning of that old phrase “going berserk”; I felt like a wild animal and urged myself to kill again; things happened so fast that not even my mind recalled the images afterwards, I just couldn’t remember. I felt an indescribable pain. A crowded street… a voice that irritated me… a lonely alley… shouts and screams…When I felt better and calmed, and of course, satisfied; I found myself licking someone’s head, like a cat licks a dead mouse after playing with it. I was afraid of myself; I was drinking blood with frenzy.
When I realized that, of course I fled from there before my acts could be witnessed and perhaps then I would encounter problems with the law. I sat in a near by park to think… my heart was pumping out of my chest. And confusion over took my mind.
I was there, in the 21st century and behaving like a… vampire? I couldn’t understand it, not less believe it. Where were all that stories of the elders teaching the new ones and the strong chain of parenthood between a vampire and his just created offspring? I was sure I was going insane.
But the improbable ideas proved to be true at sunrise, when a deep hurt punished my eyes and my skin and before I realised, I found myself running for shelter, like a wild animal following its instincts. A sewer seemed to open at my feet and I plunged in with a swift movement that amazed myself. I found a nice hole and I felt comfortable, I fell asleep heavily as if I had had a week without resting.
I will not make this story longer with including disgusting details, you can imagine how horrible it was, to realize all human functions had stopped. But I felt stronger, I could see better, hear better and felt better than ever before.
It was a learning curve for me, and I needed time for the acceptance of my new condition, I was starting to look at it as normal and even good. I was immortal. How many humans can achieve that? The last few days of that stage I was even convincing myself of how lucky I was.
But there was something I missed to foresee.
I needed a secret place when no one could find me while I was sleeping.
One night when I went to sleep in my beloved sewer, and when I awoke up, I was inside a black plastic bag into a metallic drawer I was in the city morgue! Someone had found me “dead”.
Today I laughed when I remember it, but in that moment it was a huge shock, not because I feared to be there with the real dead, or that I was claustrophobic, but my fear was the doctor’s scalpel. I couldn’t let my guts be cut up. I didn’t really use them… but they’re mine after all.
I was lucky to be in a city which meant the forensics were very busy… They had not found time to make my necropsy during the day. I wouldn’t be telling you this if my heart was removed and cut to pieces. But the change had given me some wisdom and patience, so instead of just walking out and scaring the doctors, I waited.
Waited until I was put in the table, and everything was prepared for the necropsy. I could hear all, the people’s steps around me, the placement of the instruments, the voices, and their stupid conversations. I was waiting for the right moment, and taking advantage of my increased motion speed, when the doctor went out, I took the papers and crossed them with a pen, and wrote a note necropsy dispensed.
The doctor came in, took the papers to review them, sighted the changes and shouted for helpers.
“Hey! Can’t you people read? This one goes directly to the undertakers! It has nothing to do here. Just put, ‘cause of death hypothermia and high alcohol level in blood…’ This one really knew how to party. Put him in the bag and let’s move on to others, we have plenty of work today.”
That was my first victory. I knew I could rely on bureaucratic laziness... I was about to smile because of it but I didn’t until I was in the plastic bag. First problem solved.
I didn’t think about this before, of course. No one can just disappear like that, oh, how naive I have been. But the worst is yet to come.
The undertaker was also easy, it’s surprising how people skip their duties when nobody is watching them, or when the work they do won’t be noticed by anyone, but let me explain.
My people missed me, and I was looked for like a missing person. I had a wallet with my belongings and all was kept with my real name.
It was then easy to notify my embassy, and then my family of my death, and sent me in a wooden box by plane.
My family had never liked cremation, so I was lucky for that part too, and they didn’t like to alter the body in any way. They didn’t want my body to be filled with phenol and things, as the old man used to say “plainly as God did it.”
So the only thing they did was put some makeup on my face and dress me up.
Day light came and then I fell asleep again. I’m grateful for that because I would be forever tormented by memories if in that moment I could be able to listen my mother’s cries and feel my family’s sadness. And there I stood, in a beautiful chapel, surrounded by my beloved ones, back at home.
But when we reached for the cemetery… I was so pleased. We were a wealthy family, so I had not to worry for going to a popular cemetery or a common pit. But this was great, a big, beautiful little castle built just for me! How much they care for me. I was very happy… until I took reality of the happenings.
I woke up in a huge and great memento, above ground like an altar…
The inside was decorated with stained glass, hand painted of course. And a tall Catalan style vault roof. I was happy indeed. I will not sleep in a filthy sewer again, now here I’ll be safe. And I can take my life back, even with this new form.
I stood up and jumped out of the coffin, and lurked around my brand new house. And then I got out to the cemetery field. (It’s an incredible feeling when you don’t need locks anymore…)
And I headed for my parent’s house.
When I arrived, the unmistakable light of the TV was filling the living room; I stood there, at the window and looked inside. They were watching my funeral… they had recorded it! I couldn’t believe it.
I stood outside and watched.
The funeral mass was long… maybe too long and I could see everybody kissing me, crying for me… it was lovely and moving. But those images I feared so much to watch were recorded in my memory, family, all crying, overwhelmed with sorrow and pain.
How can I do this to them? They had always loved me… And I repay them with this. Too late to go back now… my grandmother is in a terrible condition, she’s suffering because of me…
Because of me.
That phrase filled my brain again and again. Until the video was over and the static sound brought me back to reality.
I felt so miserable then. I used to be hard for crying. Now I’m crying like a baby. I took the white handkerchief from the suit pocket and cleaned my tears… to discover I was dripping tears of blood. It really shocked me. Now I understand it’s perfectly logic… but I was surprised then.
Coming back to the moment, I realized I had to cut all links to my family now… they can’t know the truth. I didn’t belong to them anymore.
It was as if I had committed suicide right in that very moment.
Suddenly I felt a tongue wetting my hand… it was my dog!!! Oh, I was so happy! He recognized me! I patted him and we walked and played below the moonlight until very late…until I saw all the lights of the house going off.
I cuddled with my dog and then ran off, promising never to come back. I loved them all.
I love you Mom, Dad. Love you, Grandma.
I was learning to move with my improved body… I was learning to control the fast moves… I ran like hell that night. It was the anger and sadness in my heart that made me speed like that. I stopped until the hunger was unbearable.
I stopped in a bar. Outside I saw a wreck sleeping seated by the sidewalk, leaned on a car. He was about 45 years old. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, but I didn’t care… he never realized when I killed him… the poor soul… he never woke up from the drunken dream. I was becoming better… I made no sound with this killing. I simple fed and fled.
The morning came and I welcomed it safely in my crypt. It’s an old cliché, I know. So I won’t bother you with further details.
My life was easy after that… the feeling of belonging to a family was fading promptly, as my new condition delighted me more and more each day. I felt on top of the world. I was unbeatable, undetectable, immortal, unique, and nice looking, I was living in a moment of time when technology made life easier –even mine- and all seemed right.
Until time marked its way and the actions became routine… every single day was the same… until I realized I had to do something with my life and my time.
I started going to the public libraries, reading and learning about everything... from botanic to mythology, ancient languages and art… medicine… everything. I saw a million movies and hundreds of plays. I listened to all kinds of music and attend all kinds of festivals, concerts, parties and nightclubs.
Had you realized that our lives resemble a play? Some live in a constant allegro while others glide through life in an eternal piano… others, as myself, we just exist in an everlasting requiem, in perpetual pain; asking for mercy a kyrieleison created by our own sins… waiting for deliverance in a beautiful way. But still we think it is a baroque beauty, an unique piece of art and we walk among you with our faces up, with the pride of the untouchable. Had you realised if your pace is cantata or a sonnet? Feelings are the rhythms of life.
Life needs to be filled with art, with beauty to stimulate your wish for living, to know, to experience and enjoy. My life was great, filled with cultural activities and learning. Until I saw it all. I began to grow weary… and I let boredom invade my life. Loneliness is a song that makes you dance with death in every step, and flirting with her you find a way of living… how odd is that?
Oh, woe to you, poor human beings if the day comes that your life is a boredom and your time passes by as the same nightmare, repeating itself over and over again… life is not a dull existence, you have to like that life for if not you’ll be like us, the living dead… alive but incapable of living, of feeling, enjoying. You are as good as dead then. The decision to take your own life comes from inside a brain incapable of standing more time without a worthy thought.
I lived for years in that same city. Enough to see the burial of my grandmother; that was really painful. I don’t even want to remember… It was nearly as painful as when my Grandfather died; when I was 20 years old… he was more than a father in my heart. I had not loved anyone as I loved him. Grandma was also so sweet… God, I love them.
The burial of my father come some years afterwards. Mom followed three months later… They all were buried in that nice crypt they made many years ago nearby mine. I couldn’t attend the funeral, of course, but I paid them a visit every now and then. Now that they are spirits… maybe they now know what I had become. Hope I still have their blessings.
The feelings of pain were mixed with ambiguity of my true nature, I cried and felt lonely until I realized it was a waste of time. Words can seem so empty once you pronounce them… when you have a feeling, that is so true and strong… but once you utter the words to describe it, the feeling just suddenly changes and seems so dull and meaningless you can hardly believe you felt it before. And then you regret the time spent on feeling.
Melancholy is a strange feeling… it can be your best friend for years, as it is so sweet and faithful that for moments you think it is the only way of life... addictive, yet sour enough to inflict pain on your mind and body. Then, you can’t let it go and it becomes a part of yourself as your very soul.
Life with a grey cloud on you all the time seems normal, until you realize it has inflicted an injury so deep in your heart it will leave a scar… and you will always bear the mark of the sad character. Be happy about it, Death loves her children, and now you are part of that damned pack of monsters walking the earth with the course of realizing what is really happening… knowing the truth; knowing. See, knowledge is power but it is a curse because it will strip you out of happiness, of life itself… you will always have the feeling of being out of pace everywhere; feeling alone amongst the crowded cities, incapable of feeling life trough your veins.
That is why we don’t laugh; laughter is the presentation card of the stupid, the idiot that goes through life incapable of understanding that he is dying every day; that he is closer to its end every day, that pollution is killing the planet and diseases the human kind. He must be crazy or stoned to be oblivious to the happenings.
I had seen humans laughing at misfortune from a simple fall to a rape… it is even on TV! Magazines sell out because the celebrity on the screen was photographed without make up! That gets to the presses instead of the last disaster in Latin America that killed some thousands…
The fools laugh when they don’t know something or when they realize they have forgotten something… or have done it wrong…even worse. We are trained to mock intelligence, bother the good student, take advantage of the noble heart; and Angels who come down worry about me! They should be giving mercy and intelligence to humans instead.
Years passed by enveloped by dark thoughts and feelings, when I realized time had elapsed fast. The hometown I used to be so fond about was very small for me now…I was longing for new knowledge. It has been 50 years from my burial, and I needed to change my residence.
I give farewell to my family’s remains and went on.
I arranged a trip in a box sent by boat carriers to Japan, with me inside, of course. The trip lasted a month... a whole month feeding on rats but it was worth it at the end, the view of the Yokohama port by midnight is of indescribable beauty.
I visited Tokyo… wow! It was an amazing city a lot of lights, awesome places; it is when millenary traditions meet with the newest in technology. A beautiful experience, indeed. I must confess I used to love all kind of oriental things when I was alive; art, concepts and of course, food. I was smelling all the food I could… as I could not eat it. And the taste of the oriental people’s blood was so different from the taste I was used to back home… it was a delightful experience. I liked it so much and became so good at it that I just kept sending myself to other places like Vietnam and Thailand. And also were enriching experiences. And all enhanced because I could understand everything better… now all that time spent on studying showed its worth.
And it was then when I first realized I loved to watch. I discovered a voyeuristic way to live… to watch people, their doings, and analyze… why they do the things they do… why they think the way they do… why we are so different from each other in the world. It was then when my study on mankind started. I studied human feelings in spite of the fact that I couldn’t feel… so I was the perfect student the impartial watcher.
I could realize how far I was from being human, as I studied them and I understood I wasn’t really human anymore.
I don’t see the things as they do. Things I see so clearly are a mysterious foggy matter for them… if they even noticed it. And things I said will be or will happen… no one believed me. But I just needed to wait to see it happen and the stubborn ones believe in it until it was over them already… oh human stupidity.
For quite sometime I enjoyed interacting in clubs and cafes, chat in a pub can be very interesting. When you let your opinions free, some people take them as truth but others as madness, and then it is only a matter of time until reality proves you right or wrong. Mostly right in my case.
Values are so different from person to person… But almost everyone concurs that one of the powers that moves the world is money. Money leaded by greed. The world is a rat race, a jungle at war to earn it and the “dog eating dog” way to do things at the jobs, just in order to have more than the neighbour.
A race guided by the headless and the blind, a race leading to nowhere and in order to acquire things they don’t really need… and things that still will be there when they’ve become nothing but bones; ready to plant the seeds of envy and greed between the family members that survive the poor bastard just buried five minutes ago.
And still we know it’s like poison… and we keep eating from it… and they worship the paper that sets in society the value of a human being.
The other is love leaded by selfishness. Some would say lust brings the evil into love. But if so was true, everything would move different, I’ve seen more couples fighting and destroying their very lives because of egoist matters, fighting rather than making love until their last breath. Sex and its excesses do intoxicate life and pollutes it shaped as remorse. Couples are struggling between themselves to gain power, to control the other’s life, time and thinking. Jealousy is a demon, violence is another one, and the consequences of misplaced love are a life full of tyranny.
Please understand you have a limited time to wander this earth, don’t waste it on meaningless struggles .I have all the time in the world, so I can do pretty much do what I please, and only I can have the invaluable gift of putting things aside to be done some other time… because I have the time to do it and that’s a privilege you don’t own. So, why do things you don’t want to? Why so many wasted days on depressions, fights, fruitless work and unthankful jobs that take your whole life and spit you when you’re old and useless? Why stay with someone that mistreats you for a lifetime when you can be with a thousand that worship you for a day? There are enough mortals to change lover as you change your toothbrush… the false morality taught since childhood to stay with someone for an imposed vow. Oh, it is a tragedy to watch you waste your time, my precious.
But don’t take me as a pervert or licentious… the most important human asset is Love… oh! how I miss love. The warmth of a kiss… the comfort of a hug… the light from a lovers’ eyes… the beauty of a given rose… the ease of the trusted and stable relationship. If you are lucky enough to find love, then you shall nourish it, keep it safe and healthy. Make it grow to unexpected heights and rejoice on it. For that is the true blessing of living on earth.
For me there is where the curse really starts. All is a gift; eternal life, good vision, the best hearing and superb smelling capacities; a sharper mind and improved memory. A memory that sometimes hurts… but is so helpful when it comes to reasoning. I miss food but I don’t worry about diet, nutrition or feeling hungry anymore. My thirst is calmed every night and when I miss my feed… I can do it the next day. I can be sure there will always be a next day. Oh, it’s a blessing you will never enjoy, my beloved ones.
But balance shall overrule. The loneliness of the long time and distance traveller is almost unbearable. No matter where I am, I’m alone. That’s the scary part. I can have no companion, maybe sometimes speak and chat with someone… but nothing stays. And if it does… I’m doomed to see it overgrow on me and die before my eyes.
You also have to let everybody by your side go. A Zen master would approve to live like this… but I’m far from that, I keep myself too westernized, still. That is why I keep myself on the move. Face an eternal loneliness and use anonymity as last name. Here the real curse starts. That’s why I write. A cheap therapy for my soul in need… for the heart that is in pieces, it shall understand it should live forever in a sealed box, away from all it may love and may be hurt with. Oh sweet destiny toy me in your arms, I’m the best puppet you’ll have, so now put me to dance!
But being a forced positive thinker, every dusk brought hope to my… life?
Loneliness is a horrible curse, but I shall tell you that is not a vampire thing… I’ve seen it in human life so often; it seems normal. Quotidian almost. Hundreds of young adults living alone in flats, hundred of old folks living alone in all sorts of places… humans being alone in spite of living among other million fellow humans… but the worst of them all is the loneliness of the couples. They live together but they don’t have a life in common, they only share the bed in absent sexual encounters, seated at a table in complete silence or in the soft light of the TV. I’ve seen this real walking deads. I pity you.
Tell me how can you endure wasting your precious time, your very life like that?
Sometimes I live as a child acting innocently and without any intentional evil in my doings… with all the confidence, body and appearance of an adult enjoying the best years, but longing as an elder and living life with memory as my only companion; and pain as the food for my very soul.
I don’t kill with hate; I don’t kill for greed or for personal improvement, nor revenge. It’s an animal instinct, blameless and fully enjoyable, believe me.
Had you ever rushed into a pizza parlour and attacked your slice as if it was the last chance in life you have to fulfil your most urgent needs with pleasure? Imagine I feel more or less the same thing…
After some years in Asia I longed for Europe and went back. I was happy in the oriental civilization, -maybe too much- but still you can’t get attached for too long in one place, as this way of life might be dangerous sometimes, so I have to let go and restart far away.
Yes, my rat diet again, but what can I do? I could not fly then, I was too young and inexperienced, besides, even now, it is a long trip. Anyway, from port to port, being back in London was great.
That sound of the Big Ben at night was the best welcoming I could of had. Searched for a little studio to rent, got installed, rested and by the next night I was happily heading towards Whitechapel. How traditional can one be?
But happiness -like sand- just runs through your fingers and even trying to get a grip on it… slips. And I started feeling melancholic again.
Coffee chats and reading a lot of books helped, some visits to the plays in the west end made me smile a couple of times; but mainly I just read.
Once, I read vampires weren’t sexually active… but let me tell you we are fully functional. I must confess the urge for sex is stronger, the act itself lasts longer and it is as you couldn’t imagine sweet and tender. It’s the only way to taste a sip of love, of heaven in our hellish life. Don’t buy those cheap novels where the vampire is a lustful foe… we are no perverts... we are far, far from that. We need the kisses, the hugs… the flesh to flesh contact. But at the end we feel so used, degraded and finally sent back to loneliness… where we fairly belong. So the sweetest moment is followed by a bitter part.
Of course I had sexual encounters with humans, and they didn’t realize my true nature. This new youth goes somewhere, gets drunk or drugged, feels the urge, targets someone and goes straight to business… they don’t even ask your name. At first, -and if relief is all you want-, it is ok, but for the lonely it is poison. Believe me, I needed caring.
To be in some body’s bed, beside a sleeping fake of a human, feeling betrayed and regretting having wasted your time in this love counterfeit; you flee into the night’s embrace and do the lonely walk back home.
That’s why I tended to keep myself away from sexual meetings. Until loneliness is too much. Again.
And when I was tasting the unbearable life…then I had an encounter with another vampire.
There I was. Standing up in the middle of Piccadilly Circus around 3AM, when another vampire came walking straight to me… sensuous, self confident and sharply dressed. I think the being already knew what I was… and without speaking gave me a tender look and stretched the arm towards me and took my hand… and we started walking in silence.
I felt in my brain clearly and loud as a spoken voice.
“I can feel the loneliness you bear… I can teach you a better life… we can live together and be happy in this swirling of still time… Let me love you… I know you want me… Don’t be afraid…”
I was amazed at this creature’s capability… I didn’t pay attention where my footsteps were heading guided by my mysterious brand new twin soul. I realized reality when I was in the middle of a cheap motel room stripping each other’s clothes.
The kissing was far much warmer and caresses full of unearthly passion… but never violent. Sex was incredibly caring and all giving, no inhibitions… I could do all…the improved strength of our bodies enhanced the feeling… it was marvellous.
Why not leave a comment about this short story?
This story has yet to be reviewed!