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: 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: The Heavens Above

Cat on Mars

Cat on Mars

 

Dear Diary,

Satellite radio. I did not know it was from the sky, from space, from out in moon and stars. I was under the impression that the name was like all other product names – just something that sounds unrelated and like only a simple-minded fool would pretend to know what it was. Today I find out that satellites, small machines circle the earth and send down music. What magic is this? Now I feel like the dimple minded fool, only I am not a simple-minded fool. Just a fool from another time. When one is locked in a crypt for three hundred years … no, it is not just the three hundred years, it is the last hundred and fifty years that have completely confused me.

I only within the last year understood the concept of telephone, television, and the Internet. I do not even try to understand cable television or the pricing on that.

After being asleep for three hundred years, entombed against my will, I forced myself to accept the things I can not see in this world of today. That is things such as electricity. I can understand electricity because of lightning or static in my hair.

Today I found out that people go to space. They have a building in space, a place to study science, they call The International Space Station.

I did not know it was in the sky. I thought it was an observatory or a, what do they say, a research station in a remote location. An island maybe. But they are living in the sky, in a large research building.

“Do they have weapons in this Space Station?” I asked my lover Gillian.

“Of course not,” she said as if I were a child.

“What if they are attacked?”

“They won’t be attacked. Who would attack them? Aliens?”

“Maybe the Fat Boy in North Korea,” I said. The strange man-child came to mind with his threats and tantrums. Another man-child came to mind as well. “There are followers of men who now rule, or wish to rule, foolish men, men who use fear and diversion to gain power would use space to terrorize the people down below. Perhaps this could be who will attack them up in the International Space Station.”

“Vlad, please, that is nonsense. You need to stop listening to the news and all of the conspiracy theory nonsense. Nobody in politics has cared about Space since the last man left the moon.”

Last man left the moon? I looked out the window. The moon hung as a crescent in the sky. It was so far away. It was so beautiful and mysterious.

I turned back to Gillian, still trying to understand what she had said. “Men have been to the moon?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“1968 – 1972.”

“How many men?”

“Twelve.”

“That is all? Are they still up there?”

“No, they all came back, safe and sound.”

“They went up and did not go back up again? How did they get up there?”

“Rockets. Space ships.” Gillian went on to explain about rockets named after ancient gods Apollo and Mercury.

“Did they bring cats with them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Vlad.”

“How do they keep mice off of their ships?”

My head was spinning. I could not even think of such rockets and ships. When I was a child once an odd man from the Orient came to our castle with rockets and fireworks. It was like magic. We had cannons as well, but that seems positively primitive now.

I went out into my back yard. I could not stop looking at the night sky. Men and women flew around the Earth in SPACE. Men walked on the moon. They went up to the moon and walked around.

I imagined Vampires in the International Space Station or on the Moon. Then Gillian mentioned Mars. Mars! We would starve.

The first time I saw an airplane I could not believe my eyes. I have now even been on an airplane that is flying. But this space thing is almost too fantastic to believe.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Gillian and I did what is called binge watching. We watched movies about Space.

We watched Apollo 13. We watched Star Trek. We watched a Trip to the Moon. We watched Gravity. We watched The Martian. We watched Guardians of the Galaxy. We watched Star Wars. 

I asked her about the first man Neil Armstrong. She pointed to the Moon and told me that was where his spirit was. She showed me the film of him walking on the Moon. The real film was not good like the movies but it was real. Then she told me about the Mars Rover. A self driven car on Mars. There is so much I need to learn. But I have time. I am a Vampire. I have a lot of time.

My head spins. I still cannot believe that I did not know about this space travel and science fiction.

Gillian my Vampire love looked at me and asked, “Did you notice one thing about the lead actors in the movies? Chris Pine, Chris Pratt, Harrison Ford, Matt Dillon?”

“What is that?” I was not feeling like playing guessing games.

“They are all cute, like you. That is cute.”

“But you said the raccoon was cute. Kittens are cute as well. I am not like a kitten or a gun carrying raccoon.”

“You are exceptionally cute my darling.”

I still do not understand this cute. I never will. But I will one day understand Space, the Final Frontier.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I heard of an event where teams from cities throw balls and run in a game for the honor of their cities. The champions fight to the end in what they call The World Series of Baseball.

This time a team called Cubs and a team called Indians went against each other in seven games. Bears and indigenous people both tough and still around after centuries of encroachments upon their territories. If they lived long ago the Cubs and Indians would have beaten each other to death with their clubs, and thrown balls at high speeds in order to kill each other. Now they run and we all sing songs together to celebrate. Everyone drinks beer. Everyone but small children.

I have come to appreciate Baseball. It is a sport which appeals to Vampires because of the elegance of the game, and the skill involved. And it can be played at night. Gillian said the players were cute.

Play ball. Take me out to the ball game. Buy me peanuts and Cracker Jack. Who is Cracker Jack? I will find out.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I remember once walking down a city street feeling hidden, stalking, so stealth, the Vampire King, hunting, then someone dumped the contents of a chamber pot from a second story window onto my head. I had forgotten about that moment. Later I burned down the building.

A fortnight ago I was walking down the city street, late at night. I was not thinking about Space or Baseball. I was thinking about blood.

Before me was a group of young women standing outside of a local drinking establishment. I stopped, as if to pretend to look in and see what entertainments were inside. The four young women smiled, giggled (they always giggle), and spoke to me. I could tell they were each deciding which one of them I would choose for my attentions.

The one with blonde hair with dark roots, and pretty brown eyes whispered to her friend, “damn he is cute.”

Now I am both damned and cute. I continued to charm the ladies with my cuteness and genuine seductive flattery. Then I stopped and bid them goodnight and moved on. I continued to walk the streets past businesses and public houses with my mind on the world in which I live.

I thought about when I was Vampire King and faced with many difficult decisions. Difficult decisions were never a problem. It was all of the difficult personalities. It was the ignorance of humans I had to deal with.

One day my Baba came to visit. Even in her ancient age she was beautiful and wise, with raven hair and deep eyes the color of a stormy sea. We stood in one of the towers of my castle dining on goblets of fresh blood mixed with wine. She looked at the sky with all of the stars then gave me a smile with her impressive fangs.

“Vlad,” she said. “You are the King of the Vampires, a title which carries great responsibilities. I am proud of how well you have handled yourself. The Vampires rejoice at your wisdom and courage.” Then she lifted her hand to the heavens and said, “the angels live among the stars. And down below, live the demons and their king. Men fear both angels and demons, but you fear them not, for you belong not to their indenturement, but to yourself. You fear nothing and that makes all above and below respect you. They will not try to be your friend or ally. Better than that, they will leave you alone.”

Then Baba kissed my cheeks and told me to find myself a wife. I was still young. A wife was the last thing on my mind. Women of course were always on my mind, but it would take a strong-minded Vampire woman to be my wife.

Years later I would meet the one who would be my wife at a Witch burning. She looked on bravely as her friends roasted. I took her away from that place, back to my castle where Vampires ruled. It was a place where she would be safe. It was I have no idea where my wife is now. Maybe gone off with some other cute Vampire. Who knows? Maybe she is on the International Space Station studying stars and the effects of zero gravity on heartless blood sucking predators.

Gillian came in and asked me what was on my mind, for to her, I looked annoyed. What not cute? I made a joke. She made a polite smile. I took her in my arms and showed her how cute I can be. That made her smile. It always does.

~ Vlad

 

space-vampires-poster

 

Vampire Diary: In My Youth

Dear Diary,

Who is the man they call Disney?

What magic does he use to lure children to his kingdom? What is this mouse who surrounds himself with princesses? And then there is a tale of a man who eats nuts and mice who dance at Yule time. It is no wonder that children bury their heads in their phones to escape the relentless call of these fiends who prey on children disguised as friendly lovers of animals and happy music.

I was on my front porch trying to get my cats to come inside when a small girl ran down the street with her small dog. Her name is Emily. Most girls are named Emily. I asked this Emily if she knew of the Disney Kingdom and if she had heard of Disney’s princesses.

She said, “Everyone loves the girls in Frozen, or Belle, or Cinderella, but I like Repunzle in Tangled. I like Jasmine too, in Aladdin. Mulan rocks it too. Hey, have you seen Robin Hood the fox? I love that one.”

I told her I had not. She shrugged and ran on with her dog. Then she ran up to me again and said I had to see Finding Nemo. What is Nemo and why does one need to find it? I just smiled without fangs and waved the child on her way.

When I was a child of her age, maybe about nine or ten years old my uncle brought me out to see a show of fire eaters, and men who did slight-of-hand magic. After one produced a monkey who danced, my uncle burned a large group of his rivals alive after impaling them on pointed stakes. Severed heads of men with gaping mouths and sightless eyes were placed on the side of the road as far as the eye could see. My uncle laughed and slapped me on the back. That night I crept into his room and cut out his heart. He looked at me with wide eyes and I told him that he gave my family a bad reputation. My father had told me that reputation was as valuable as an intact soul for a Vampire. I have since learned how right my father was.

My uncle’s daughter, my cousin, was a princess. She told me that she was going to run away with her lover. I told her to go. I told her that I would keep her secret. She looked kind of like the one they call Snow White, only her name was Dashi and her lover was not a singing dwarf, a prince, or a huntsman. He was a Vampire of noble birth who could read, and write. Dashi said she was going someplace where people did not fear Vampires. I told her good luck and laughed like a man. She took her father’s heart and put it in a box, then put the box in a bag and took it with her.  Then I felt bad. I went to the kitchen and drank blood from the arm of one of the girls who helped with the evening feasts. As I lay my cold bloodless cheek against her warm chest she stroked my hair and told me that I had done the right thing. Later my father, realizing I was upset and confused brought me the dancing monkey. I never saw my cousin or the box with my uncle’s heart again. My father was finally King of the Vampires.

Ten years later I controlled the kingdom. But I did not have dozens of princesses. I did not even have a queen. Lovers yes, always, but no princesses. I did not create a cult of children who lived in fear of their step mothers and…how I miss my Baba. She would tell me stories of cunning princesses who cut off the heads of men and drank their blood. These princesses were motivated by revenge rather than romance, but Baba said romance is like a drizzle of honey, or warm fresh blood on a cold winter day.

Why do the children of men fear Vampires so much while their very souls are being sucked out by a mouse? I do not understand.

As for the monkey. He did end up with his own princess. A few years later I gave him to a girl who took me to her bed. It was a fair deal. I turned her into a Vampire. I hear she lives in Seattle. I wonder if she still has the monkey.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I watch as the kitten plays with his mother. He is almost grown now but my love Gillian says he will always be her baby.

I look at Gillian and wonder if perhaps…

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Gillian stayed the day with me. As we lay in bed, in the darkened room, I asked her about a childhood memory. She said it was so long ago, but I kissed her neck and told her to remember.

She laughed and told me how she liked to sit with the women who did needlework. When they would prick their fingers on the needles she would lick off the blood. What precious memories my love has.

I saw Emily and her little dog again today. She laughed and waved at me.

“Have you seen the bald eagle?” She was so excited to tell me about this bird.

“No,” I said. “Is is part of the mouse clan?”

“It is real. Right at the end of the street building a nest in the big digger pine tree,” she said with wide eyes. “I can’t bring Rufus down to see her because he’ll bark.”

Then she laughed and skipped away, without a mouse, or a phone, or a princess. She was just a little girl, like little girls who watched birds eight hundred years ago.

I will watch for the mouse. It will not take Emily away to be a princess, or I will have that mouse heart in a box.

I am no longer Vampire King but I will protect my own. That is something I do understand.

~ Vlad

 

blue cat

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/childhood/

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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