Vlad’s Vampire Diary: You Can’t Go Home Again

Dear Diary,

Going home is no longer an option.

This morning I went to Google Maps. There are cameras in space, up in the sky, in the heavens taking photographs of the Earth. Everything can be seen. I dare say unseen is what I wish today.

This thing called technology, baffles me. It amazes me. What amazes me the most is that all of this, which would have once been considered black magic is now not magic at all, AND it has almost all happened in the past one hundred years. It has happened in the past fifty years.

After being imprisoned in a crypt for three hundred years, I am still overwhelmed. The past four years… I can not even describe them.

This morning at dawn I stood out on my deck and looked at the sun coming up over the dark night sky. I thought about my old home where I was King of Vampires and all I could see. This morning I saw a flock of turkeys. Alas I am not even King of Turkeys now.

So inside I went to my MacBook Pro and to Google Maps and to my castle.

It was gone. My castle was not there. GONE. Not a trace. Just forest and meadows and NOTHING. All traces of my existence was gone. I looked up my name. Nothing but some Russian fool who rides horses and other animals without a shirt, and ridiculous laughable horror movies, and bad fan fiction. There is no trace or memory of me.

I picked up my phone (another unbelievable marvel of technology) and called my friend Randolpho. He said I had to look on the Dark Web to find information about real Vampires. I do not understand. I know that by web he does not mean a spider web but something of course we can not see. This new world and the language is confusing. Everything is called by a name that is indeed a tangled web of language. He said I needed a special server and spoke of other things I do not understand. Who is that special server and where do I find him? Will he serve only me or others as well? I did not risk asking Randolpho and seeing his eyes roll.

Yes, that is something people do now. They roll their eyes around in their heads as if to say, “you are ridiculous and have the mind of a child.” I have recently learned the term, “bless his heart,” means the same thing. Eye rolling. Bah.

I am forgotten. I am lost. I am new. I am frustrated.

I expressed this feeling to my love Gillian.

She said, “You’re so cute Vlad.” Then she kissed me. That is something no amount of technology can improve on.

So apparently I am cute as well. I do not understand this cute, but I will take her word for it. My advice to any male is to take a woman’s word on it, no matter what she says.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I still mourn the loss of my former home and kingdom, but on the other hand I am glad it is gone and nobody else is living there in my place.

Tonight I walked around my new home. It is a 3,500 square foot home with what is called a good sized yard. There is plenty of room for me, the cats, Jane the coyote dog, and Gillian when she is here.

Gillian has claimed her own bathroom (there are four of them. FOUR.) With all of the tools and cosmetics at her disposal there is no need of a maid for her. When I first met her it took two hours for her to get ready in the morning. She had layers and layers of clothing. She had layers of hair. Cosmetics were complex and questionable. Now she jumps in the shower, blows her hair with hot air and lets it flow down her back, then she pulls on six items. Only six. Bra, panties, jeans, shirt, two shoes. That is all. Sometimes she wears a dress, but it is tiny and no slip, corset, underskirts, hoops, or pads are needed. It is just my beautiful Gillian’s natural shape that shows. She sometimes laughs and says it is easier to be a Vampire with fewer clothes.

Gillian also has taught me how to get blood stains out using magical chemicals and a machine that actually washes clothing. In my castle there were five women who washed my clothing, and only my clothing. There were a dozen more to do the job for the rest of the castle.

Yes, I can now wash clothing in secret, with my own private machine, without anyone knowing what I have been doing the night before. That is always a good thing.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I was out tonight at my favorite night spot, where Vampires can sit among the crowd without anyone suspecting they are only there looking for a bit to eat in peace.

The bartender and owner, a lovely woman named Cassie, has become, shall I say, a friend.

Tonight she leaned against the bar facing me and asked me, “Where are you from Vlad? Originally? I can’t place your accent? Europe? South Africa?”

I smiled and took her hand, “Dear Cassie, where I come from no longer exists. Even if I could go home those who live there would not welcome me. I have found a home here, with those who are like me, in a new home with strangers. But strangers no more. I have you and others friends who are far better people than I knew before.”

“You can’t go home again. Sort of like the Thomas Wolfe novel. Have you read it?”

“No. Write it down. I will read it.”

“You seem sad,” she said.

“No, I am not sad. I am just feeling, what do you say, retrospective.” Then I smiled at her in a way that charms all who have warm blood in their veins. “I come from a place in Europe where the mountains are high and eagles still fly above the towering trees. I do not even know what country it is now. It does not matter. I am here in California. I will learn to ride a board on the waves. What is it called? Smurfing?”

“Surfing. It is surfing. Smurfs are small blue French people. Like annoying little dwarves and there’s only one girl.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. I just smiled and then scanned the room for someone with a nice neck and a healthy pulse.

Later with my veins full of fresh blood and my mind clear I went back to see Cassie. I gave her a kiss on her cheek and a hug. I closed my eyes feeling her heart beat.

“Thank you my dear Cassie for giving comfort to an old man.”

“Love you Vlad. HA! Old man my ass. What are you? Thirty-two, thirty-four?”

“Something like that,” I said as I kissed her cheek again. I would never tell her that I am 675 years old. I would never tell. It always confuses people, more than any technology can confuse an old Vampire like me.

As I left I could hear her tell the other bartender, “Damn, he is cute.”

I do not understand this cute. That I will never understand, but I will take it as a compliment from a friend.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I woke in a cold sweat. I am a Vampire so I only have cold sweat. I had a nightmare about small blue Frenchmen. They smelled of garlic and blueberries. They sang songs in deep throaty voices about ripping out the heart of Vlad the Vampire King.

The door to my bedroom opened. My love Gillian came in. She was wearing an extremely small black dress. The dress fell to the floor, along with her bra and panties. That was three pieces of clothing. She had no shoes. Now she wore nothing but diamond studs in her ears.

She crawled into bed with me, putting her smooth cold arms around me. I put my arms around her and pulled her close as she skimmed her fangs across my neck, then put her lips to mine.

I closed my eyes, and saw blue men, screaming as the large waves covered them while the great white sharks ate them like teenage children eat Hot Cheetos.

Gillian took my face in her hands. “Are you ok Vlad?”

OK. That is another one of those words I do not understand. It means someone  or something is good, or not bad, or it could mean anything, or nothing.

“I am fine,” I said. “Just take my mind off of my mind. Make me forget.”

As always she did. And then some.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

You’ve just read the 40th entry of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To start from the beginning, or read your favorites again click here. 

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Queer Eye for the Vampire Guy

Dear Diary,

Tonight I stood outside in the cool breeze, under the sky with few stars, only the moon and the planet Venus, and occasional airplanes. How different the world is where there is so much light at night that even when it feels dark we can not see the stars.

It was the year before Louis XIV, The Sun King, died. I did not find out that for another three hundred years. I had heard another group of Vampires had left for the New World. I missed the American Revolution. My own country, my own small bit of the world fell into chaos and ruin…

I stood under the night sky with the wind in my long honey colored hair fell to the small of my back. I wore a coat of the finest wine colored fabric trimmed with ribbons with gold thread. My boots were of the finest leather and the color of my jacket. My shirt was trimmed with lace. It would all have been approved of by the Sun King, or any king, because I, Vlad, was King of the Vampires.

Here I take a deep breath and wonder what the Hell happened. I was standing alone in my thoughts enjoying the night air in a Foreign land, returning from a trip to Italy, when the last thing I remember was the sight of a beautiful woman and a sharp pain in my heart. It had nothing to do with romantic thoughts.

My attackers, who are still unknown to me, sealed me in a crypt, and there I remained for the next three hundred years. My location was unknown to my family, friends, or allies. My citizens were without a leader and lost to the winds and ravages of marauding hordes. Those who were not slaughtered went into hiding. My friend Randolpho was one of them.

For three hundred years I lay in a state of trance like sleep, occasionally mixed with consciousness, unable to move, or cry out for help. I was dead, but undead, in a cruel state of hibernation. My heart had been stabbed with a stake but not fully pierced. My throat had been slit but my head not severed. It is rather disgusting now that I think of it.

Of course one can imagine what it was like when Randolpho and my love Gillian found me. First I heard the lock snap, and the gates of the crypt forced open, then the top of the tomb moved off, and then they opened the coffin.

“Oh shit,” was the first words that I heard, coming from the mouth of Randolpho.

Gillian bent over and kissed me. I opened my eyes. “It’s him,” she said in a now unfamiliar accent. “Let’s get him out of here.”

My fine clothing had all but rotted away. My hair was in tangles with years of bugs and mice having their children in my golden locks. When I awoke I found myself not in a coffin but in the softest of beds with sheets so softer than anything I could have imagined.

Everything smelled good. I smelled good like flowers and fresh spring herbs. I wore a soft robe, and drawstring pants. My hair was clean but now short to my collar. I often think of growing it long again but maybe not.

Gillian came in, not as I remembered her, corseted in a long gown and elaborate ringlets, but in a short skirt and a long jacket. Her hair was straight and down her back. The skirt was black leather, the jacket was a pink color I could not describe, her shirt was simple white lace. She smelled like oranges and roses. Later she told me it was grapefruit scented lotion. Her legs were showing. Almost all of her legs.

In all of my centuries I could have never imagined the modern world in which I had awakened into.

Louis XIV was the King of the Sun, and I was the King of the Moon.

Now I wear jeans. I am no longer King. As for Louis, alas he is still dead.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Gillian said, “You could wear a burlap bag and you’d still be cute.”

“What is a burlap bag?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. The door bell rang and she left me standing, once again wondering what she was talking about.

I quickly looked up burlap bag on the Internet. Why would wearing a brown bag made of rough cloth make me cute? What did she mean by cute? Do I look like an onion or potato or coffee bean? Onions are not cute. I do not understand half of what she says to me.

Friends came to binge watch Netflix. I asked them once what Netflix represented. They told me that movies used to be called flicks because of how the film would flicker. They explained more but I was lost. I smiled and thanked them. Gillian and Randolpho tell me not to be overly concerned about the names of companies. I disagree. One never knows what might be lurking in secondary and secret meanings of names. They laugh at that. I scoff. I was not Vampire King for 306 years by not paying attention. The one time I did not pay attention I ended up in the 21st Century.

Randolpho and friends, Innocenzio D’Antonio, Jackie Rafferty and his girlfriend Willow came over. Gillian’s friend Elizabeth was also in the group. I have no kingdom but I have new Vampire friends.

Tonight we watched something called Queer Eye. In my wildest dreams I never imagined such a thing. We watched for five hours.

Five men go from town to town and fix the lives of other men who need fixing. They also help women, but mostly men. How do I say this… they are what is now called “Queer” or “Gay” which in this language means odd or happy, but also means they choose to be with romantic men.

Back when I was King of the Vampires in my old country and old centuries back world we did not care who anyone spent their time or lives with. It did not matter. We were Vampires and I was their King.

As a youth it did matter. There were men who were afraid of those who loved freely. They were violent against those who were not the same as them. That was my uncle and cousins who were unfortunately eaten by wolves or ended up somehow, mysteriously with their heads on posts.

They would torture me when I was young because they said I looked like a pretty girl rather than a boy. They also tried to take advantage of my sister and harm her. They were not the kind of Vampires who would binge watch Netflix. But they are no longer here and I look around my home and have decided that I need to how do I say, step up my game.

Alas clothing for men is so plain now. Everything looks good on me but it would be good to know what would look best on me.

Among the seven Vampires watching we used two entire boxes of what is called Kleenex while watching the shows. We might be Vampires but we are what do they call it, suckers for sentimentality and turning lives around. After all, that is what Vampires do. We turn lives around as well.

Antoni, Karamo, Tan, Bobby, and Jonathan made me laugh and think about style. I believe my hair would look good if it was styled the same as Tan’s. I do not like angels, as most Vampires do not, but in this case I believe Bobby is the human form of one.

When the sun came up and we decided to sleep, I wondered if Bobby would help an old Vampire design his guest chambers?

I almost stayed up to watch the rest of Season 2 without the others.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

In my bed, with Gillian asleep in my arms, I wondered how out of touch I am with the modern world. Maybe it is not that I am so out of touch as… I do not know. I seem to adapt.

It is a full moon. I wonder if I will hear the Werewolves howl tonight. I wonder if they will have their sinks clogged with fur. I wonder where they keep their clothing when they run as wolves. I wonder why even now Werewolves still dress in such tacky and distasteful clothing. I wonder if I get measured and order some new suits tomorrow how long it will take for me to get them. I wonder if ribbons and lace will ever be popular again for men to wear openly without shame?

Gillian runs her hand across my chest and up my neck. She never asks what I am thinking. She knows. Her cool touch to my face brings me out of my own thoughts.

“Do you think I need a Queer Eye?” I ask.

She smiles with a hint of fang. “No, just a few history books.”

Then she kisses me, and puts her naked leg over mine, and this is where I stop writing.

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 39th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To start from the beginning (or randomly read them) CLICK HERE.

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Love Letters

Featured Image -- 14902

Dear Diary,

I do not understand the ways of love in this modern world. Not my love. I know my own cold un-beating heart. It is that of others I do not understand. It is not always women because Vampire women have always been of their own minds. They take what they want. We have no defenses. Not that we care, but I do not understand the men.

Oh what a night. My head still spins, but Dear Diary, stay with my thoughts no matter how confused I might seem on this page.

This modern world is strange indeed. Even Vampires play the fool now. It used to be that we, or most of us, were in control. Then I was sealed in a crypt for three hundred years. While I was there, and I am the Vampire King, what do they say now, all Hell broke loose. Vampires lost their minds and became weak. They lost track of their emotions. They became idiots. I am at a loss. Since I am Vlad, the Vampire King I will do my best to educate the young Vampires on the ways  of old.

Tonight I went out my favorite tavern. After mingling with the regulars I looked around and spotted a lone Vampire. Only I knew he was another Vampire. I had spoken to him before tonight, but that was before I knew how pathetic he had become.

He was a young Vampire, perhaps seventy years of age. Yet, he looked young, as I do. I am centuries old. The card I carry that enables me to drive an automobile without being taken to prison says I am thirty four years old. So I lie. I am a Vampire. It is what I do to keep warm blooded people from bothering me. We all do it. You would do the same. I would be crazy to admit I was born in the time modern historians call the Dark Ages.

My young Vampire friend, a fellow called Byron, sat in a back booth of a local bar, alone, with nothing but paper and a ball point pen. Ball point pens are a true modern marvel. He had a glass of red wine in front of him. His face carried an extreme look of sadness.

“What is this?” I asked pointing to the paper he was writing on.

He did not look up, “A legal pad.”

I was puzzled by his answer. “There is paper that is not allowed?”

Byron looked at me with his eyebrows together. “No. Legal pad, as in lawyers.”

“So James, you are writing law? What sort of law?”

“I’m writing a love letter. You should know all about that the way women love you.”

“Are love letters now something that is dictated by law?”

He took a swallow of his wine and spoke again. “No. Yellow paper is just called a Legal Pad because lawyers use it for their notes. Yellow is easy to find. Sheesh Vlad. I’m writing a love letter. Even if wasn’t legal I’d still be writing it.” His face was sad like a mourner at a funeral.

Then I looked upon the page in horror. What came from the head and heart of this man, this Vampire man was both appalling and terrifying.

My darling Lydia,

I long for you company. I am lonely and need you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I sit alone in this bar thinking about nothing but you. Why won’t you love me? Why won’t you notice me? I am here. I hold my hand out to you to come with me. Be by my side. Be my Vampire Queen. Make me complete. My life is a failure without you. Please, it has been so long since I have had a woman in my life. I need you.

“What is this?” I asked.

He gave me a long sad look like a guilty dog who has stolen a man’s dinner off of the table. “I told you man, I’m writing a love letter.”

“This is no love letter. This is a letter of a worm. This is the letter of a man who is not a man but a weak pathetic boy who still longs for his mother’s milk.”

His mouth hung open in surprise. “Vlad I’m not a pervert.”

“Good,” I said.  “That is a trait that will not attract women.”

He shook his head. “No, man, I don’t want my mom’s boobs. I’m not into that.”

“You are an idiot. That is what is called an analogy. It means you have the emotions of a baby.”

Again he looked surprised as if he had never heard the truth before. “What do you mean?”

If I did not carry the title of Vampire King I would have rolled my eyes like a teenage girl. “Byron, please look at the words you put upon your page. No woman, especially a Vampire woman, would respond well to those words. If she is wise she will either ignore you, or better yet, put you out of your misery. Maybe I should put you out of your misery. Your paper may be legal but the pathetic words that you write break every law of romance.”

“Well, I don’t know what to write. I mean, you’re like scary good looking. Every woman in this place thinks you’re the cutest guy they’ve ever seen,” Byron said, looking as if he was about to cry tears.

I did not ask him what he meant by scary good looking. I am good looking but I am not scary looking. As I said, he is an idiot. I know I am cute. I do not understand it, but that is what all of the women who meet me say both to my face and behind my back. Kittens are cute. Babies are cute. I am neither a kitten or a baby. Byron acts like a baby and that is not cute. I am still trying to understand.

I put my hand on his shoulder. He shuttered at my touch. “I am not going to hurt you. I am going to help you,” I said in a low voice.

“Are you going to make her love me?”

“If I do try to make Lydia love you she will hate me forever, but yes, I will try,” I said.

I put pen upon paper and wrote….

Dear Lydia,
I think of you and I smile. When we speak with each other I feel content. Our words flow together as if we are writing a musical about thoughts and ideas to be shared. I feel comfortable around you, as if a century passed our conversations would continue to be fresh, and enlightening. I am glad we met. It would honor me if you would join me in a night under the stars. I look forward to hearing from you.

I put down the pen then I looked up at Byron. “This is but a start. Do not make your attempt at courtship about you. Make it about the woman you wish to be with. This is not about your emotions but about hers. If she agrees to spend time with you, and only then, do you tell her your own feelings. When you tell her how you feel do not act as if you are starving for blood after a year buried in a grave. Act as though you are in control. Be…what do they say now…be an adult about it. Be mature. Not like cheese but like wine. Like a real man.”

I thought to myself that my brain was going to liquify and drain out of my ear if I had to spend another moment with Byron, so I excused myself. This was not what I had planned on doing tonight. Byron thanked me. He told me he would keep me informed of the outcome of his attempt at attracting Lydia. I do not know this Lydia but I am tempted to tell her to run as far away as she can.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight we have our veins full of blood, and our hearts full of love. We might be Vampires, but we are also very much alive.

I lay next to my lover Gillian, watching her in a cold silent slumber. You are so beautiful my love I whisper. She silently smiles and rolls over to face me. I stroke her shoulder and run my hand along her bare arm. I kiss her neck, barely scraping her skin with the tips of my fangs. She signs, and then melts into my arms like ice in the summer sun.

I have nothing more to say.

~ Vlad

 

Romantic Lovers

This picture isn’t really Vlad and Gillian but just for today you can pretend it is. For the complete  Vlad’s Vampire Diary CLICK HERE.

Vampire Diary: Eat me up

Dear Diary,

This evening I went to gather my mail at the box at the end of my street. The cats followed me as they always do. In one of the yard I could hear two of my female neighbors. They have no idea that I can hear their conversation.

The one called Karen said, “Vlad is absolutely delicious. I could eat him up.”

The one called Barbara said, “I know. He is so cute.”

The one called Heather who has golden hair and is extremely pregnant just laughed in that mysterious joyful way women laugh. No male has ever understood THAT laugh.

Eat me up. I do not understand anymore than I understand exactly what they mean by cute. But I will try to understand.

Cats are cute. Babies are cute. I am cute. Yet, they also have called me sexy, which I now know means their loins ache to be with me. References to eating me are disturbing, even to a Vampire.

I know that cats and babies are cute but not sexy. But a man with a cat or a baby is sexy. I have two cats. I do not wish to have a baby.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I look in the mirror at a dim reflection. As if in a dream I see my reflection. Blue eyes that turn to gray. Golden hair. I see a face that is considered cute. I know I am handsome, and in the relm of beautiful, but this term cute is something I still cannot wrap my brain around. On my chest is a scar near my heart. It is the only mark on my otherwise perfect body.

Usually in Vampires, such as myself, wounds heal and there are no scars. The cause of my scar was no ordinary event.

The year was 1615.

Then all was dark. When I awoke I found myself sealed in the tight walls of a crypt. I could smell the putrefying bodies around me. Through the dark I could see the marble of the walls of my prison. I could not move. The pain in my chest was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

My foes had stabbed me with a stake of rowen wood. A crufix of silver had been placed around my neck. A brand in the shape of a cross had been burned into my forehead. Many of my bones had been broken. Then I fell into a deep sleep of the undead. The stake was cursed with curses of the damned so the scar will always be with me.

I awoke to the sound of a familiar voice calling my name. Then the sound of chisels and hammers. I could not move. The fog of sleep was still upon me. A cold hand touched my face.

I heard a cool familiar voice. “My love. Vlad, I thought I had lost you forever.”

Opening my eyes was no easy task. Before me was my love Gillian, as beautiful as always, but she had changed. Her auburn curls were straight, and loose around her shoulders. She wore a simple black shirt and pants that clung to her legs, and shoes without tops that were held on with her toes. Her toe nails and fingernails were painted purple. What madness was this? But I could not yet speak.

Then from my chest she pulled the stake. I could breath again. I smiled at her and asked if she still wanted to see the Sun King. She frowned.

“Vlad,” she said, “this is the year 2015.”

The shock to my system almost put me into a coma again.

Fortunately my fortunes were saved. Unfortunately my home, my castle, and my army was gone. I found myself in an English crypt, with my lover telling me we were going to fly to California. I did not know California. Fly? I had no idea. I had NO idea. I assumed by fly that she meant flee. Then we get into a car and drive without horses, THEN we go to an airport and get on an airplane. My exterior is calm, but inside I am both amazed and confused.

In 1615 I was attacked by men in a world where the greatest technology was the theories and discoveries of Galileo Galilei, and somewhere in there someone invented the first microscope. Then I wake in a world where people fly, and communicate through tiny boxes rather than speak to each other.

Imagine my confusion. I am not longer the Vampire King. I am Vlad, the cute guy. I am still attempting to adjust to this aspect of my existence.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I came from a dark place. Now I look out upon orange trees. Oranges. I told the children in the neighborhood to come pick them and bring the fruit home to their families. Oh the life of the Vampire King giving out food to his people. Sigh. I used to rule a kingdom and lead an army. Now I am the cute guy with the great oranges.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight Gillian touched the scar on my chest with her cold fingers, then kissed it with her cold lips.

“When they stabbed you in the heart my love, they also stabbed me in the heart,” she said to me.

“I do not know any longer where I stand in the world,” I told her, “but I know where I stand with you. That is all that matters right now.” Then we made love only as cold undead Vampires can.

I do not tell Gillian my inner thoughts of perhaps once more becoming the Vampire King. I dream of building an empire but how can I do that surrounded by women like Karen, Heather, and Barbara who think I am cute?

They call me. They need me. That is my cats. They are calling. Tomorrow I will plan how to build my Vampire army. Now I must feed the cats and try to figure out what to bring to Heather’s baby shower. Technology I can figure out. Building an empire I can figure out. Modern women and cats – I will never figure them out.

~ Vlad

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Zipped

middle age romance

Dear Diary,

The cats have decided the time to sing the songs of their people is when I am attempting to sleep.

I do not understand them.

~ Vlad

blue cat

 

Dear Diary,

Before dawn and the rising of the sun, I walked in the woods along the well worn trail that is used by walkers and joggers during the day. I do not understand this jogging. One either runs or walks. One does not jog.

As I walked along the creek by the pond I could hear the rustle of the night creatures. A coyote stood across the water and looked into my eyes as if to say “hail Prince of Darkness.”

Then I heard the voice of a female.

“I see you have your entourage with you.”

I was puzzled. At this time my knights, servants, court, and legions of faithful Vampires have been dispersed. They are gone. I looked behind me half expecting to see ghosts of my former glory. There stood my cats. The large tabby and white cat, and her black kitten. Yes, my loyal entourage was with me.

I looked through the dark at a woman standing before me wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. In the old days she would have been in a dress with a sweeping cloak. This one wore what they call a hoodie – a soft shirt with a built-in hood and a zipper. I lived for centuries in a world of buttons, laces, and pins. After three hundred years of being trapped in a crypt, I come out to find zippers. Zippers are, I have a difficult time finding the words for such an invention…zippers are fantastic. Women who wear zippers are incredible. I find myself attracted to a female form in a garment with a long zipper. But I get off subject.

I realized that the woman who stood before me was also a Vampire like me.

“Yes, madam, my cats have followed me. They are my loyal subjects.”

She smiled without fangs. I tried to get into her mind but she shut me out. She was powerful. There was a great burden on her cold silent heart. That I could tell.

“What troubles you?”

She took a step closer.  The cats took a step back then ran around a tree and down the path a bit. I kept my eyes on hers.

If I had been a fool I would have said something like Vlad to meet you, but I am not a fool. I did not mention her zipper either.

I kept my eyes on hers. She could not look away. I could tell she was young, not yet two hundred years of age. Yet, she was powerful in the ways of Vampires and defiant. I could see visions and memories of many things puzzling and confusing to me. I dug deeper – then she locked me out.

“Get out of my head,” she all but snarled at me.

“Tell me who you are. Tell me who your clan is.” I demanded.

She put her hands on her hips. “Who died and made you king?”

Didn’t she know? “My father,” I told her.

“Don’t be a duche.”

I had no idea what she meant by that. “Madam, I was once the Vampire King, but that was a long time ago,” I said to her. “You are young, not yet two hundred years. You know who I am. Who are you?”

She just stared at me.

“Are you not impressed?” I asked her this rhetorical question in hopes that she be impressed.

She spoke. “I am trying my best to claw myself out of the proverbial rabbit hole. I came out here to be alone. So leave me the crap alone.”

I asked her how it was that there were rabbits so large to make a hole she could fall into. I could understand the need to crap alone. She hissed at me and showed her fangs.

I stood, not even knowing how to respond. Then she turned and ran up the hill vanishing into the mist, as the sky turned lighter.

The cats followed me home.

I sat and thought about what she had said. I went to my computer and researched rabbits. None are as large as humans. Maybe she is insane.

~ Vlad

 

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Dear Diary,

I had a dream last night of the Vampire woman I met by the pond. She was dancing under the moon in a short blood-red gown and her black hoodie with the long zipper.

A large rabbit with a sword chased me away. It was like in the books my father had. The books brought fear into my cold little heart but I knew they were false. Then I thought maybe the story of the rabbit hole was false. Yet, I did not feel lies from her. She did not, how do they say now, give off that vibration.

Then she saw me and plucked a glass eye out of her head and gave it to me. Then she sank her teeth into my neck and sucked out my soul. Then she scraped rough material across my cheek and I woke up to find my cat licking my face.

I looked up at the ceiling and wondered if I would ever be the same.

~ Vlad

 

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Dear Diary,

Tonight, after a night out, and a stomach full of blood, I went for a walk under the night sky. The cats followed behind me, chasing after me and things I could not see.

Again I saw the woman with the zippers, but this time her hoodie was white. She wore blue jeans with a zipper. Her hair was messy from the wind and fell into her face.

She glared at me, and spoke. “It is guys like you who make me want to puke. Just because you’re cute…and YOU are incredibly cute, too cute, it doesn’t mean that every woman you meet is going to think you’re Prince Charming,”

“I do not understand,” I told her. “Who is this Prince Charming?”

“You act like you’ve been sealed up in a crypt for a hundred years,” she said with fierce anger in her eyes.

“I HAVE been sealed in a crypt for three hundred years,” I told her.

Then she just stared at me for a long minute, as only a Vampire can stare at another Vampire.

Then she said, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Sorry.” Then she turned and ran.

“I like your zippers,” I called behind her. She did not turn around.

I do not understand any of this. The world used to be simple. If I was hungry I would find blood. If someone crossed me I would put his head on a pole. If a woman pleased me I would have her. When I spoke I was listened to. I would lead armies into battle and they would never question me. I would make love to women and they would beg for more and offer me their necks. Women still do that…but the rest I do not understand.

My cats are screaming for food. I tell them to catch their own food. They do not listen. Yet, I know they still love me. Maybe one day I will yet rule again.

~ Vlad 

 

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Vampire Diary: Old Dogs, New Tricks, and Politics

Dear Diary,

Tonight I watched the film called Dracula. The cats sat on the chair with me and purred. They have no concept of movies or truth. They are cats.

It was without color and considered old. The year it was made was 1931. The actor was named Bela Lugosi. His accent was like mine, at least from the same regions of Europe.

The story was strange, but no stranger than some reality.

THIS is where they get their information from about Vampires. I have no words. None. THIS is why Vampires drink.

~ Vlad

_________________

Dear Diary,

At dusk I walked from my house down the street to my mailbox. The two cats who live with me followed behind me singing the songs of their people.

At the mailbox I was greeted by one of my neighbors, a beautiful teenage girl called Paris. With her was a large old brown and white dog of unknown lineage. The dog is called Hamish. Paris tells people he is a Haggis Hound. Even I have to smile at her joke.

Hamish and my cats touch noses but do not chase or growl. They accept each other in mellow disinterest.

Trying to fit in and be what they call “nice” I asked Paris, “So what is up with you today?”

I adjusted my accent so that I would sound more American. I did not want her to hear “Zo Vat ieees up vith you toooooday?” I sounded like, “So what is up with you today?”

She said, “I’m feeling the Bern. My friend and I are working the phone bank for Bernie Sanders.”

“Phone bank? What is that?” I asked, because I do not know what that is.

“We’re going to call people and ask them who they are voting for. Just Democrats. If they say Bernie we say thanks and direct them to the web site, and ask them if they are interested in volunteering. If they say no, or Hillary we say thanks and don’t forget to vote. It is more of a survey.”

“I see,” I said but still not sure.

“If Bernie wins he’ll be the first Jewish president. If Hillary wins she’ll be the first woman. If Cruise wins he’ll be the first Canadian.” Then she laughed.

“A Jew would be president? That would happen?”

“Sure. His wife is Catholic. Nobody cares. He doesn’t bring religion into it. Nobody needs that in government. Freedom of religion and separation of church and state and all that.”

“That is amazing,” I said, remembering times when people were put to death for marrying out of their faith. I understand some still are. “There was a time when that would have not happened.”

“Did you grow up Communist?” She asked me that is a quiet voice as if she was asking me if I had a medical problem.

That question was unexpected. I had been sealed in a crypt for three hundred years and missed the Communist movement.

“No,” I told her. “I was not part of that. I lived in relative isolation at the time untouched by the rest of the world. Maybe that is why I ask so many questions.”

Beautiful Paris, the girl named after the city, tells me what she thinks of all of the people who wish to be the president. She is full of frightening facts and interesting opinions. This woman child will one day be powerful. Now she supports the old man, but one day she might be the one who is as they say putting her hat into the race.

She made a comment that someone looked like a Vampire. She said she saw a “meme.” I am still learning these meme things.

“There are worse things out there than Vampires,” I told her.

“And some of them are running for president too,” she said with a frown on her face.

Things were easier and less confusing when I was Vampire King. Nobody worried about who was in charge.

~ Vlad

__________________

Dear Diary,

Tonight I went out among the population. At a club in the downtown section of town a band was playing. The music was loud. The women were beautiful and friendly. It was a perfect night to be a Vampire.

They told me I was cute. This cute is a thing I am still not used to.

I listened to the people talking about the politics just as Paris had, but also talking of different names. I heard talk of work. I heard talk of romance. They talked of all things, and I listened with concern and interest ready to make a move.

After several hours I had my fill of blood and good cheer. I was feeling cold and calm and headed towards my car.

As soon as I retrieved my keys from my pocket five men surrounded me. They carried crosses and garlic, and stakes of wood, and guns. Like Paris the teenager I almost rolled my eyes. They called me a “Prince of Darkness” and other unsavory names.  In my head I quickly calculated a plan. There were five of them and only one of me, but I am not a “Prince of Darkness,” I am the Vampire King.

Then from out of the dark a growl like a wolf from Hell blasted into the night. A beast half man and half wolf attacked the Vampire Hunters. He tore clothing and flesh with his massive canine fangs and claws. I stood back and watched the fight.

Then the Vampire Hunters ran, carrying their injured comrades.

I looked into the face of the man, a middle-aged man, still with wolf ears and hair on the sides of his face, and on the tops of his almost claw like hands. White hair streaked through his brown hair at his temples.  “Who are you?” I asked.

He looked at me with humor in his brown eyes and said, “My name is Hamish. You know me Vlad.” Then he laughed with a low deep growl to his voice.

Yes indeed. I did know him.

~ Vlad

 

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