Today I started to write my memoirs. I feel the weight of the damned upon my shoulders.
The cats are screaming. I must feed them. They refuse to catch their own food. I will start feeding them salad greens to inspire them to channel into their carnivore souls.
The cats are not happy with me.
Three hundred years of sleep has put me at a disadvantage. I wake and the world is an alien planet. Yes, I, Vlad the Vampire King, know what Science Fiction is. I make a comparison, only the world in which I have awakened is not fiction.
I’ve read the stories of Philip K. Dick, Ursula K. Le Guin, and H. G. Wells. Their worlds are hardly less fantastic than what I see before me each and every single day. Yet, their writing is bold and fearless. I shall read more. I shall seek out more of what they call SciFi.
My old Vampire friend Thomas Kent came by the other night. We consumed many bottles of blood and many of wine, as we binge watched X Files episodes. I could fall in love with Scully. She would make a fine Vampire.
Thomas said we would next binge watch Breaking Bad. I understand it is about alchemist teacher and those who are against his art.
Later Thomas and I went out for fresh blood. I looked around every corner for The Smoking Man.
Today Thomas introduced me to something called Twilight Zone. I might never leave my house again.
He said that next week he will introduce me to something called Golden Girls. He said it will change me on so many levels. I have no idea what he means by that. I shall wait until next week.
I have been thinking much about allegorical concepts and metaphors of stories that are so much part of modern culture. A wolf is no longer enough to scare someone. Religion does not bring fear into the hearts of the parishioners. It is stories of modern morality, greed, sex, and vanity told in straight forward ways that aren’t about royalty or gods. The stories are of the common man, both grim yet highly entertaining. There is a man called Stephen King who writes of such things in terms of good and evil with descriptions that would make even a Vampire take note. He is the master. There are others as well. But forget the horror, I have discovered women who write of romance in ways that make me almost numb not knowing what to think. The men on the covers tend to look a lot like me. How did they know? I am the man all women desire yet after reading these novels I wonder… I wonder a lot of things. I wonder if a woman called Nora Roberts would write a book about me. My image does not have to be on the cover. I’d prefer she just write about me, in
Modern women are like more like men in some ways, yet they are even more mysterious than they ever were. They are more beautiful and full of desire than women of the past. They are…they are…my dark soul is moved to say that they are wonderful.
But I speak too much about my food. I find while my body can be with many, my heart and mind are only with my Gillian.
Thomas told me that the actress who plays the role of Scully is name Gillian. If my heart could beat fast it would.
Gillian and I went out tonight, as we often do, because we’re Vampires. It should have been a normal night. By that I mean the kind of night that people have gone out in for hundreds, if not thousands of years. We went to a club, we drank wine, we listened to music, and we even danced. Then we had our fill of blood from new found friends.
As we walked through a dark alley, arm in arm, warm blood in our veins, love in our barely beating hearts and headed towards my car. Then I heard voices. Gillian heard them too. We stopped. She glanced at me and squeezed my arm. I took her hand.
“That’s them, the cute blonde guy and the beautiful ginger.”
“The Vlad the Vampire King?”
“They look like they’re off the cover of a bodice ripper romance. Don’t let that fool you.”
“Let’s make this happen. Jay, take the woman with the net. I don’t want her dead. Not yet. Carl, take the watch. The rest of you guys, stay with me. We’ll get Vlad.”
Gillian and I turned around. There were seven of them.
“I wish I’d worn flats,” Gillian hissed under her breath.
Before us stood six men and one woman. They were all dressed in black. They all carried weapons of some sort.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“The accent. Listen to his accent. He has the Lugosi accent,” said one of them.
“What an asshole,” said Gillian. “Let’s do this Vlad.”
She was right. I’d take no more insults from these idiots.
As they rushed us I held out my hand. “You are tired. Your eyes are weighted with molten silver. Your feet are like stones. You want to sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.”
Gillian sang softly. “Sleep, my loves, sleep in the dreams of your childhood. Sleep my kittens. Sleep.”
Then they fell to the ground. They were not good at what they do. Gillian and I looked down on them in disgust.
Then she started to dig in her purse.
“What are you looking for Gillian?”
“Do you wish to stab them? Their own pathetic lives are enough punishment for these characters.”
“No, not that kind of sharpie. A pen.”
And out of her purse she pulled a black pen. “Indelliable ink. It won’t come off for at least a week, unless of course they scrub their skin off.”
Then she proceeded to write the word LOSER on their foreheads and colored their noses black. She colored the woman’s lips black. On the men she drew funny beards and mustaches. Aside from when we make love I’ve never seen Gillian so happy.
When she was done we left and went back to her house.
In the old days I would have killed them. Now we do something worse. We make them look ridiculous.
I opened my eyes as she slept with her cold pale arms and legs wrapped around me, her auburn hair over my chest. We did indeed look like the cover of a romance novel. Maybe that isn’t a bad thing.
As for the Vampire Hunters… I don’t know. I don’t care. They are fools and will never be as glorious as the Vampires they seek.
When one lives in a world that is in the shadows of both the real and the unreal it can be confusing, but then again it can be rewarding.
My mind goes back to times when we’d see dragons flying overhead as they migrated to their winter homes. There was a time when most everything in our homes, including the computer I write upon would be considered magic.
Then I see Gillian and I feel a different kind of magic.
I do not always understand it, this thing called love. There were centuries when I never felt it or missed it. There were centuries when I didn’t care. Love was no concern of mine. Then a woman who would draw funny beards on Vampire Hunters entered my existence. She was every bit as cold as I am, and it, what is the word they use? It clicked.
I must feed the cats. Tonight to celebrate they get tuna. From a can. As Vampire King I must make my subjects happy. HA HA HA. See I made a joke.