Vampire Diary: Modern Knowledge

Dear Diary,

I was out looking for blood.

Just as I was about to go in for the seduction and take my dinner to a quiet spot she asked me, “Who did you vote for?”

“What?” I asked not understanding her question.

“You’re fucking gorgeous and so cute I can hardly believe it, but I can’t take you home if you voted for Trump,” she said.

“Where I come from there is no vote,” I said. I did not tell her that I was king and in charge of the life and death of every single citizen in my kingdom. It did not seem to be, what do they say, neither here nor there. I looked into her lovely brown eyes. “I am not yet a citizen here. Tonight, let us forget the overload of news that gives us all headaches and heart aches, and makes our blood go cold, and concentrate on just you…” I paused and brushed her cheek with my lips. “And me.”

After I drained her of about a half pint of blood I made her forget she ever met me. If I see her again we can do the dance all over again.

Upon arriving home I found my love Gillian and my friend Randolpho sipping wine and playing cards.

I asked them a question. “Do you vote?”

“Of course we do,” said Randolpho. “We might be Vampires but we pay taxes like everyone else.”

I considered what he said. Since I was the King of Vampires I did not pay taxes. Now I do. How different my existence is now.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

After being locked in a crypt for three hundred years I am still marveling at the modern world.

Vampires of my class have always kept clean to keep the smell of death off of us. However it was not the standard of clean that is today. I like this new clean. They call it personal hygiene.

When I was Vampire King dozens of women would wash the linens of my castle in large boiling pots. My own clothing was washed by a select staff of women with a light touch for my fine fabrics. Now I do it all myself with my machines at home. Gillian and I do what is called binge-watching-Netflix while we fold our clothing. I open a bottle of wine. It is relaxing. My clothing is not as complicated as it used to be.

I remember one time when I traveled to the castle of Michael Dark Lord of the Southern Vampires. His home was filthy. It smelled of death and decay.

I said, “Michael, why are you so filthy?”

He said, “To remember that we are not alive or dead.”

I said, “That is a stupid answer. You will get maggots growing under your arms.” I scanned the room full of his gaunt and dirty followers. “No wonder your Vampires are starving. They smell so horrible that people can smell they before they see them. It is pathetic that your meals run from you in advance. Your Vampire’s stench is even making me sick. No self-respecting Vampire should smell like a rotting corpse.”

Michael looked confused and angry. “So my Vampire army should smell like a botanical garden?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” I told him. “You would attract more willing food sources.”

When I left Michael Dark Lord of the Southern Vampires I stopped in an inn and asked for a bath to be drawn. My golden blonde hair had turned a greasy ashen gray after spending time in the putrid atmosphere of Michael’s castle.

A week later Vampire Hunters had wiped out the entire lot of Michael Dark Lord of the Southern Vampires. Their Vampire heads were put on poles and their hearts cut out and sold to oddity seekers. The castle was covered in vomit from the Vampire Hunters who had become ill at the vile smell. How embarrassing and unfortunate to be remembered to be the Dark Lord of Vomit.

This is a cautionary tale for any Vampire. If you smell like death you will be death.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I have been thinking of those three hundred years in which I was locked in a crypt. I missed the 18th, 19th and 20th Centuries. I missed the birth of this strange and confusing modern world.

To catch up I read a great deal. My friend Randolpho told me of a man named John Waters. It was John Waters who said, “If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ’em!”

As I sat reading into the morning, the blinds drawn against the raising sun, my cats settled in my lap. The coyote Jane curled her skinny gray coyote body at my feet. Gillian, my love, was asleep upstairs in my bed. I was tempted to join my love, but I had to finish the last chapters of the book.

The book was about a man who studied the sea. He walked among the tide pools. He was educated but the men and woman who loved him were among the lowest of the people of his world. They had no common sense or learning, or money, yet their hearts were large. The last pages were about music and love and animals and science, and of the human heart.

Even now
I know that I have savoured the hot taste of life
Lifting green cups and gold at the great feast.
Just for a small and a forgotten time
I have had full in my eyes from off my girl
The whitest pouring of eternal light.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. And the white rats scampered and scrambled in their cages. And behind the glass the rattlesnakes lay still and stared into space with their dusty, frowning eyes. 

I was born the same year as Geoffrey Chaucer. Over the centuries I have appreciated his legacy, and that of the ancient masters and classics of previous centuries. Yet, it is the modern words that speak to me and touch the very shadow of my soul. These words that are written now speak not just to the scholars, or the kings, but to all. They speak to the quite times when one has cats in his lap, and a canine creature curled at his feet, and the woman he loves upstairs in his bed. They are stories that touch even the coldest Vampire heart.

I must now sleep. There is wedding planning to start tomorrow night. So I’ve been told from the woman in my bed.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 37th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To start from the beginning CLICK HERE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Frankenstein

“My education was neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading.”
~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein; Or, the Modern Prometheus

Dear Diary,

I missed the entire 19th and 20th Centuries. So much happened. I am, how do the young Vampires say, clueless on so many cultural references.

When one is imprisoned in a crypt for three hundred years there is a great void in culture.

Books. Book changed. I completely missed Daniel Defoe by a few years. Of course I’d read The Ingenious Nobleman Sir Quixote of La Mancha and all of the ancient Greek tales, but where I lived, there were rarely anything considered a what is known now as a novel.

I have been reading many books over the past several years.

I started a new book today. It is called Frankenstein. I understand it was written by a young woman. Sometimes one must read light fluff because it is recommended by friends. Understanding modern women is also a good thing. I hope this book will clear a few items up.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I continue to read Frankenstein. It is not what I imagined it would be.

What is that expression my love Gillian always uses? Yes, I remember. Holy shit.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Last night I ventured out to my favorite local night time meeting place. It is owned by a woman named Cassie who is both beautiful and smart. She could have also written Frankenstein. I had planned on asking her if she had heard of Frankenstein but there was no chance.

My friend Randolpho and my love Gillian joined me. We are all Vampires, and know that Cassie’s bar is popular with a few other local Vampires as well. Cassie and the other patrons have no idea what we are. We do not plan to tell them.

All there were having a good night until three men wearing black coats and hats walked in. They looked around, then one looked directly at me and said, “Target,” to his friends.

At first I wanted to tell him that this was a bar and Target was about three miles away, then I realized that I was their target. I locked eyes with him and knew they were Vampire Hunters.

“Don’t look them in the eyes,” he yelled and brought out a large knife. As they came towards me I realized they also had guns. Why does everyone have guns?

I stood up from my seat and yelled for everyone in the club to get down. Randolpho and two other Vampires were like Shepard dogs and herded almost everyone behind the bar and into the kitchen and storage room. Gillian stood next to me.

One of the men, the tallest one, who had long brown hair, pulled out his gun. I grabbed his hand and twisted his arm behind his back and knocked him to the floor. Their leader, a shorter man of great thickness, headed towards Gillian with a sword. I turned and grabbed his arm with my left hand and the blade of the sword with my right. I could feel it cut into me. Then I twisted it out of his arm. I did not see a third man behind me as he stabbed me in the neck. I could hear screaming from behind the bar.

“You will not hurt a soul and you will not take me down,” I said.

“You’ll die tonight Vampire King, along with the rest of your friends,” said the man who stabbed me.

“No,” I said.

As the blood poured from my neck, it was funny, because all I could think of was how I’d just gotten that blood about an hour before then at an odd show at an art gallery.

We fought as I have not fought in centuries, with Gillian beside me, and the other Vampires working to protect the fragile regular Humans. I do not know exactly what happened but suddenly a knife went into my chest, it might have been a sword. A knife went into my check and cut a hole in me, starting at my heart and working down, as long as my forearm, maybe a foot long.

Then all went dark.

I awoke in a strange place, like something out of Mary Shelly’s nightmare.

A serious looking man wearing white hovered over me. “What year where you born?”

“1342,” I said, barely getting out the sound.

“1982,” I could hear Gillian say, but I could not see her. “He’s thirty-six.”

“Do you know his blood type? We couldn’t tell. It was as if someone mixed several types together.” I heard more voices asking questions. One said they would have to give me blood. That sounded good to me. I heard Gillian say my blood type was A+. I do not know what that means. I have human blood and I have my own Vampire blood. It is red. It is blood.

I tried to sit but found myself with wired attached to me. A needle was in my arm which was attached to more machines. Bright lights were in my eyes. People were all around me and asking me questions I could not understand or answer.

I could hear their frantic voices saying that I was cold and my heart was not beating. They said I had no blood. Then I felt electricity surge through my body. I jerked.

I could hear Randolpho’s voice somewhere. “Vlad, make your heart beat friend. Don’t let them think you’re dead.”

Needles went in and out of my skin and everything underneath it. I could not understand what people were saying.

Gillian said to someone, “Randolpho is his first cousin. I am his fiance. We are all the family he has. Everyone else is dead.” Dead is a relative term when one speaks of Vampires, but she was right. As far as I knew everyone in my family is dead except my sister who is undead and thousands of miles away.

Then it happened, as I lay on the table, hooked to machines, my arms pierced by needles, covered with blood, splayed out like a hog ready to be cut into bacon and ribs, it happened…

“Even like this he is so cute.”

“He is so cute.”

“He is beautiful, but so handsome.”

“I’ve never seen anyone here this cute.”

“Oh my, who is this man? He is absolutely gorgeous.”

Cute. Even in my darkest hour I am called cute. I do not understand this cute. Babies, puppies, kittens, and teenager are cute. I am a Vampire King in a Frankenstein like nightmare. I am in the lab, hooked up like the creature and they talk about how cute I am. I do not understand.

Then one put her hand on my forehead, “Hey cutie. Can you hear me?”

I opened my eyes and smiled a bit. “Of course. Where am I?”

I could feel her melt a bit due to my charm. “The hospital,” she said. “I’m Doctor Davis. We’re here to help.” Then she turned to her companions and said, “How is he talking? His heart isn’t beating.”

I was weak but I put my hand on her arm. “Dear Doctor Davis. Please leave me alone with my cousin and my fiancée for one minute. In case I am dead I need to have a few last words.” I looked her in the eye and she could not do anything but go away. Vampires can do that. We have that magic touch (even now I can make a slight joke.)

Gillian and Randolpho helped me become detached from the machines and wrapped me in a blanket and put me in a wheel chair. When someone would approach us Gillian would put up her hand and say, “Let us pass.” And of course they let us pass, and none of them remembered seeing us leave, for we are Vampires who move silently and make memories vanish.

When we arrived home I lay in my bed feeling more dead than undead. The pain of the Vampire hunter blades was made worse by poison. My hand, my neck, and my torso were stitched up. I was full of new blood, but still weak. I ask Gillian if she can heat up a blanket in the dryer for me.

I am exhausted just trying to write of this event.

~ Vlad

 

We are unfashioned creatures, but half made up, if one wiser, better, dearer than ourselves – such a friend ought to be – do not lend his aid to perfectionate our weak and faulty natures.  ~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein; Or, the Modern Prometheus

 

Dear Diary,

News travels fast of a hero who fought off three crazy men with knives and guns to save about fifty terrified people. Vampire friends and my neighbors all came by to see how I am doing. Cassie and her husband Justin brought beautiful red flowers. Gillian and Randolpho were the perfect hostess and host.

Men from law enforcement came and spoke with me.

They asked questions. I told them that I remembered nothing.

Then, I do not know why, I quoted a line from the book Frankenstein. “I see by your eagerness, and the wonder and hope which your eyes express, my friend, that you expect to be in formed of the secret with which I am acquainted. That cannot be.”

I gave them a small uncomfortable laugh and told them that I could not think today. They said they understood and asked me to call them if I remember anything.

The men who attacked us were not apprehended that night. They will be found, but not by local law enforcement.

None the less Gillian and I insisted Randolpho stay with us for a few days. We are fierce and dangerous Vampires but even we have to watch those who do not understand us and wish us harm in their ignorance.

But now I sleep, and rest, and quickly heal as only a Vampire can.

Tomorrow, or maybe next week we will find our peace, and with any luck discover books that do not scare even Vampires.

~ Vlad.

 

“I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man who could sympathize with me, whose eyes would reply to mine.” 
~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein; Or, the Modern Prometheus

 

2016-04-08 09.04.16

 

Note from Juliette: This is the 36th entry of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read it from the start click here.

Vampire Diary: Protecting the Cuteness

Vlad’s Vampire Diary #35, Protecting the Cuteness

 

Dear Diary,

This afternoon I was awakened by the sound of the doorbell.

My neighbor, a woman named Casandra, stood at my door with panic in her eyes.

“Vlad, are you free for a few hours?”

I escaped after being locked up in a crypt for three hundred years, then found out I was no longer Vampire King. Of course I can be free for a few hours.

I smiled, ran my hands through my thick golden hair and said, “Casandra, you look distressed. What can I do for you?”

She told me that her five year old boy, a lad named Lucas had fallen on the playground and broken his arm. I was asked if I could watch her four month old son Trevor. Of course I could. What else was I doing? I am a former Vampire King who has not decided what to do with myself aside from observing this confusing modern world, and writing in my diary.

Cassandra works from her home and only, as she tells me, has part time daycare. Her husband was out of town on business she told me. I have been around babies. I could do this.

I went two houses down and went inside, where Cassandra showed me where all of Trevor’s food, diapers, and other gear was. Modern babies have an overwhelming amount of gear.

Trevor smiled when he saw me. Cassandra gave me a hug, then said, “You’re cold. Do you want me to turn up the heat?”

I told her that I was fine. I did not tell her that I am a Vampire, therefore always cold.

Trevor was in his crib. I held out my hands and he grabbed my index fingers. One in each hand.

“There was a time when a baby boy like you would have been served up on a silver platter by some Vampires. You would have been a delicacy. You are a lucky boy young Trevor,” I said to the tiny child.

He laughed.

I pulled my hands up, Trevor hung on but his head fell back. His tiny neck was unable to support his massive baby head. I put my hand under his head to support it. He laughed. I laughed.

Here we are together, two males, bonding in our cuteness.

He laughed again then looked into my eyes and said “blee eeebub.”

I laughed. “Ahhhh you want me to tell you a story do you? Then you shall have one,” I said to him.

“Dear Trevor. Once upon a time there was a baby. She was cute. More cute than me. More cute than you. She was more cute than a puppy or a kitten. She was, what shall I call it, universal cute. No baby had ever been more precious, at least until you were born.

One night, when her parents were asleep a Vampire came in through the window of their villa and took the cute baby girl. The Vampire was on the way to a party and said to his hose that he would bring an appetizer. It was like that big game, the Super Bowl, where people get together to watch sport and eat and drink until they fall asleep. He put the cute baby upon a large sterling platter, not into a super sized bowl, and took her to the party.

Everyone at the party ran their tongues over their fangs, ready to feast upon the baby. But this baby, this tiny cute baby, who was cute beyond cute, this baby who was almost as cute as you are cute, caught the eye of a handsome Vampire named Wydo. He was a prince. Yes, my young toothless friend, Wydo was a Vampire prince.

Wydo was enchanted with the child, not because she was so very cute, but because he knew she would one day be able to control everyone she saw, including even a Vampire King.

Wydo demanded that dancing dwarfs come into the hall and do gymnastics, and then fighting games for the crowd of Vampires. There were no dwarves, for they had been drained of their blood earlier in the day, so musicians, who were alive, were brought in. Then the Vampires danced. Wydo went into a dark stairwell and summoned Demons to come in the guise of beautiful maidens full of blood and distract the other Vampire.

Then do you know what Wydo did? I bet you do know what he did smart baby Trevor. Wydo wrapped the baby girl in his cloak and stole her away in the darkness of the night.

And did Wydo drink her blood. No he did not. He brought her back to her parents home. Seventeen years later he turned her into a Vampire. Do not be shocked my little one, it was her idea.

Another thing you might not have guessed yet was the fact that Wydo was my grandfather.

Several years later, about fifty years later, she became my first wife. We were both Vampires and of the same age. It seemed like a perfect match. But then she tore out my heart. She stabbed me in the back. She left me. She left me alone. She did not physically tear out my heart. She broke it. Badly, in the worst way a woman can break a man’s heart.”

I stood in the middle of the room bouncing a baby, and thought my heart was going to explode. As empty as my heart was of blood, I felt like it was empty of everything else. It was not a feeling of cute. It was a feeling of pain.

Then the baby Trevor laughed. I laughed and showed him my fangs. He laughed even harder, and so did I. The pain in my heart stopped.

I told him more stories of adventures, with gore and death, and large hungry carnivores animals. As long as Trevor laughed I told him stories of my life.

“Do not marry a bitch,” I said to Trevor. “Make sure she is warm like you, even if she is a Vampire.”

Trevor laughed his cute baby laugh and I was once again  at peace.

A few hours later, after it was dark and I sat on a leather couch which was the color of blood, Cassandra came home with the child Lucas. A green plaster cast was on the child’s arm. His fingers stood out. He looked as if he was in pain.

I touched his fingers. “You are a brave young man,” I said. I did not flinch as I took the pain away from his broken bone. He smiled at me, then his mother took him to bed.

I handed Cassandra the baby Trevor. He reached out his tiny arms and practically fell at her.

“Oh I could just eat you up,” said his mother as she kissed his cheeks.

Me too I thought.

Then she looked right at me and said, “You and Trevor are so cute together.”

Sigh. I was once the Vampire King and now I am a cute guy who watches babies who are also cute. This is a confusing world in which I exist. I also changed Trevor’s diaper, not once but three times, and I fed him breast milk his mother had pumped earlier. I am indeed a good friend to have around.

“With Brad out of town I don’t know how I’m going to sleep,” said Casandra.

“I can help you,” I said.

Once Cassandra was in a trance, and less a pint of blood, she slept. I made sure she had sweet dreams of her boys growing up to be strong men, like Vampires of old, but not so much as to scare her, and not Vampires.

I walked home thinking about my former wife. I must stop doing that. Not stop walking home. Stop thinking of my former wife. The bitch.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I lay in bed in the arms of my betrothed, Gillian. Her head is on my chest. Her arms are wrapped around me. She is as still and cool as marble. If she was not a Vampire I would think she was dead.

The two cats lay curled at our feet, hot and vibrating.

Jane the coyote lays curled at the foot of the bed on a blanket Gillian gave her.

I feel loved.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Oh the number of hearts I have broken over the centuries. Thousands. Maybe more. My capacity for breaking hearts is vast.

I was sitting in my favorite chair, with two cats attempting to keep my lap warm, when my love Gillian came home.

“I would stand but the cats would be so sad,” I told her with a smile, and held out my hand to her. “What brings you home so early? How was the Spa Night with your friends. You do not look relaxed my love.”

“It was weird and horrible even for people like us,” she said. By “us” she was speaking of Vampires, or at least I assume that. She then continued. “First They put something on my hair that smelled like dried cow patties. I went to the ladies room and washed it out of my hair. After that it was time for facials.”

“Cow patty? They put hamburgers on your face?” I asked.

“No Vlad. Oh you have missed a lot during your time in the crypt. A cow patty is a large dried cow poop.”

“My darling, how vile. How was the facial?”

“Worse than the cow pattie part.  I was told to lay back and relax as someone rubbed salmon oil on my face. If that wasn’t horrible enough, cats were then brought in to lick it off of our faces.”

“Cats? Why cats?” I asked.

“I was told it was the latest thing in natural skin care. The cat’s tongues exfoliate the skin. Bull shit.”

“Cow patties again?”

“No Vlad, bull shit is an expression for something that isn’t true. I don’t know where it came from. Please don’t ask me to explain. But damned if I was going to let some cat lick salmon oil off of my face. Darling I’m not going to kiss you or even come near you. I smell like a garbage can. I have to take a shower. I’ll be back in a bit.”

I watched my poor dear walk up the stairs, then went back to my pondering.

I’d heard of women centuries ago who would use the blood of virgins to try to make themselves beautiful.  That never worked. Oh the crazy things that vanity makes people do. On the other hand I appreciate the efforts that women take to make themselves appealing, and beautiful. Dare I say cute? Yes, even cute.

As a male I find it fascinating, horrifying, and completely confusing and mysterious. I would be maybe too bold to also say I find it cute.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today is Saint Valentine’s Day.

Last night Gillian said I am more cute than the one called Timberlake. I rolled my eyes at her and it made her laugh. Then she said she was still on the fence about the one who rides the board called Shawn White. Then she explained to me about this Shawn White. Then we watched the Olympic game coverage.

I know it was a joke Gillian was making but I was impressed and amused beyond words.

I love that woman.

I will now learn to ride a snow board.

But for now I will ride… excuse me, I will make love to Gillian. Maybe she’ll give me a high score. And I find myself with three gold medals! See I can find humor. 

Gillian and I made love. It was perfection. Then we talked, our bodies and minds entwined. I will no longer think of my former wife, or other Vampire loves of my past. Thoughts of Gillian are all I want or need. Of course I have my memories, but that is all they are. Just memories, and none as sweet as my thoughts of Gillian. Who needs chocolate when one has true love. Then she whispered in her sleep saying, “Vlad, you’re so cute.”

Sigh. Such is the life and love of a Vampire King.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Love Bites, Love Bleeds – A Victorian Christmas.

Dear Diary,

I missed the entire 18th, 19th and 20th centuries.

I missed the Industrial Revolution. I missed the American Revolution. I missed the advent of electricity, flight, recorded sound, the telegraph, moving pictures, smooth jazz, photography, the Wild West, Art Deco, and most of all I missed the Victorian era. Yes, it seems that there was a period in which a great small sour looking Queen named Victoria ruled the world, told people not to make love, and then had many children herself. I do not understand that logic, but rulers are not often driven by logic.

Before I came into this modern world I now call home, I was living in a period now which is now called Baroque. I thought we would never change. I could not have been better. I loved the clothing. I loved the music. Life was good, especially if one was a Vampire. My world was by candle light in the dark, under skies of millions of stars.

And that fated evening, my last evening in my own time, I went out for the night, my hair curled and flowing around my shoulders and down my back, a silk and wool coat hung perfectly, with wide sleeves, and lace, and … then, then it went black with a pointed stake that grazed my heart, and then… then I was locked away for three hundred years.

It was 1714 when I was stabbed in the heart and locked away. And when I was rescued centuries later by my dear friends I found myself in a strange horrifying science fiction landscape that I could have never imagined in my wildest Vampire nightmares.

All things had changed.

The night my love Gillian and friend Randolpho broke into the crypt and rescued me is still a dark cloud in my mind.

I remember Randolpho’s voice, “Oh my God his hair is full of bugs. Rats have eaten his clothes.”

I awoke on an airplane, flying high in the sky to a country which did not exist in my world before. I was wearing a black tee-shirt, a button down charcoal colored Oxford shirt, and blue jeans. My hair was now to my shirt collar. It is what everyone wears they told me. And so it was. I was also extremely clean. Everyone is clean now. That is one thing that makes life as a Vampire easier in this modern world.

Tonight I was driving in my car and turned on the radio. At the touch of a finger I can hear any music of any era, even Baroque music. A song came on. I listened in wonder.

Love bites, love bleeds
It’s bringin’ me to my knees
Love lives, love dies
It’s no surprise
Love begs, love pleads
It’s what I need

It was by a band called “Def Leppard.” Why they call themselves after cats who cannot hear I do not know. The song reminded me of when my wife left, and it made me think of those years alone in the crypt.  Yes, love bites. It bleeds. I wonder if that song was written by a Vampire. It must have been. I bite. I bleed. I am not yet at my knees.

It is Yule time. I must not be so melancholy.

My two cats who can hear all too well crawled into my lap and started to purr. There is even comfort in this world for a sad Vampire.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I missed the 19th Century. I missed the waltz. I missed the waltz when it was new. I missed that first time when one could dance close in a ballroom, a hand on a woman’s waist, close and touching. So close I could put my lips on her neck and nobody would notice as I scraped my fangs across her neck.

Gillian has told me that we have been invited to three Victorian themed events.

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“We dress up in Victorian clothing and go back in history,” she tells me.

“I was never there,” I tell her. “And how do you expect us to go back into history. If I want back it would be to the eighteenth century and I would…”

“Stop it Vlad,” she said almost growling at me. She almost growled like an angry animal. “We do it for the fun. It is all pretend. We do it because it is Christmas.”

“What does wearing those ridiculous top hats and huge skirted dresses, and following the prudish morals of a pinched nosed British queen have to do with Christmas? Tell me.”

She went to the shelf and grabbed a book and threw it at me. “Read this Vlad,” she demanded.

Christmascarolfacsimile1843_--_Cover-1

I poured myself a goblet of mulled blood and read the damn book by a man called Charles Dickens.

The book reminded me of one night four hundred years ago.

It had been a night of violence and blood. Back in my castle, in my private chambers I stripped off my clothing and washed the blood off of my hands, and out of my hair. My hair which was down to the middle of my back at that time like a river of honey gold. I could still feel their fire in my eyes, and anger in my soul.

The window blew open, and in flew an apparition, a large ghostly man with no head. He carried what seemed to be a black velvet bag. He stood silent in front of me.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” I asked the ghostly figure.

He slowly opened the bag and pulled out a head. Then he put the head in the crook of his arm turning the face towards me. It was Fabio, the former leader of the Vampires who lived to the south of my lands. We had gone into battle together. We had plotted against our enemies together. We had loved women together. We drank blood together, and bonded as an impenetrable force of Vampire power.

“Fabio, my brother, what brings you here on this Yule night?”

“Silence,” he cried in a voice like a banshee. “I was foolish and lost my head. I lusted after blood, and power, and never gave a thought to anything except my own desires.”

“I am sorry to hear that Fabio,” I said.

“Silence Vald, King of Vampires, Ruler of the People of the Night. You must listen to me,” he said, then he began to howl like the hounds of Hell.

“Stop,” I yelled at him.

“All of the Vampires in the world believe Vampire Hunters killed me, but YOU Vlad cut off my head and threw it in the moat of your castle.”

“You slept with my wife, and then you killed my dog. What was I supposed to do?” I said.

“It was her idea,” said Fabio.

“What about my dog Fabio? My wolfhound Princess?” I responded. “Was it her idea too?”

He waved his head in front of my face. “You, Vlad are a good Vampire, but you are a bad man.” he said, “Today you will be visited by your past, your present, and your future.”

“No, Fabio,” I told him. “As usual you make no sense at all. You are insane. The sun will be up in an hour and I will sleep. Be gone and stay away from my wife, and my dogs.”

He screamed at me and flew out the window. I slammed the window closed, drew the curtains, locked the door, then crawled into my bed and fell into a deep Vampire sleep.

I had a dream. It was a dream of Yule Time when I was a young Vampire. My sister and I were traveling home along the mountain roads. We stopped at a village. Village people danced around a fire while we listen to the screams of those who were tied to poles and burning in the center.

My sister grabbed my arm and asked, “Why Vlad, why do they do such horrible things to their own kind.”

“Why are you burning these people?” I asked a man standing next to us.

“The priest said they were evil so they must burn.”

“Were they evil?” I asked.

“I never really thought about it,” said the man. “They said women should be treated equally as men. They said that people should question what the priest says.”

My sister and I went to the Priest. We burned his hands off, then cut off his feet. We drained his body of blood.

My sister said, “I need to go home but father does not want to see you.”

Then my dream vanished like smoke in a dark moonless night.

I was awakened by the sweet voice of a woman, with her hand on my bare chest. It was Yule of present time.

“Vlad,” she whispered. “Wake up.”

It was my wife, the beautiful Aloisia. I put my arms around her and pulled her into a kiss. She looked into my eye and locked them on mine.

“Vlad, I am leaving you. I am done with you.”

“Aloisia, why?”

“I am sick of you,” she said. I can not even write down what else she said to me that night. Then she was gone. I never saw her again. She is out there somewhere but I know not where that somewhere is.

I fell back asleep after several hours. At around 2:30 p.m. a pale white man in a silver robe came into the room. He opened the curtains and nearly blinded me with the light.

“Who are you?” I said, sitting up and showing him my fangs.

He just pointed at me and laughed. I could not see his face due to a large hat and a mask like the beak of a ghostly white bird.

“Special Delivery,” he hissed as he dropped an envelope on my bed. Then he closed the curtains and vanished into thin air. Another ghost maybe or some sort of demon. I hate ghosts.

I cracked the unfamiliar seal on the envelope and found a book with blank pages. What did that mean? A blank book? Was it magic? Was it printed with invisible ink? Was it meant to be a threat.

It was a diary.

My life changed after that night. I did not send a turkey to any family or meet a small limping boy, but my life as a Vampire did change forever.

I was no Scrooge but I too have strange things happen to me when I sleep.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

My lover Gillian informed me AGAIN that we must dress up and pretend to be Victorians. I asked her if that is what they call Cosplay with much sarcasm in my voice. Gillian told me not to be stupid, whereas a heated argument ensued.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

This evening I was out for a walk and saw my neighbor Helen, a glorious woman of seventy.

I remember a time when most people did not live to be seventy, especially woman. Those who lived for a long time were either those with great luck, or vampires.

Helen, of the beautiful face, and flowing gray hair, was out with her dog, a large yellowish best. At one time she had been a dancer. She is still a dancer.

“Helen teach me how to dance the waltz,” I said to her.

And so in the street, under the light of the waning moon, and multicolored Christmas lights she trained me in the waltz.

What a joy it was.

She sang the music as I held her with one hand in her hand, and the other hand on her waist. I could smell her blood in her veins, along with the slight scent of roses and gardenia in her hair. I was exhilarated.

When we were done she laughed and said, “Vlad, you did great. You are so cute.”

This cute I do not understand, but I do now understand the waltz.

~ Vlad

 

top-hat-fred-astaire-ginger-rogers-1935_u-L-Q12PC1A0

Dear Diary,

I am exhilarated. Tonight I waltzed with Gillian all night long at a “Dickens Party.” I will admit I enjoyed the clothing, though Gillian and Randolpho said I cannot wear it all of the time.

All of the women there called Randolpho “Randy.” I asked if he was randy and he just smiled and winked. What do they say about naughty or nice? Depending on who is asking I suppose Randolpho could be both.

After the party, alone in our room, I helped Gillian unlace her corset. That Dear Diary is my favorite part of Victorian clothing. Gillian calls it gift wrap. It is a wonderful gift indeed.

Unlike the cowboys in the Wild West (I have seen movies and read about that time in history which I missed) I did not leave my hat or my boots on.

And, what else do they say? Yes. And to all a good night.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarification (or Hairification)

My husband Teddy has dark brown hair. His eyes are brown but he can change them to blue when he wants to.

Vlad the Vampire King, of Vlad’s Vampire Diary, is blonde with blue eyes. It is a honey blonde, not the pale blonde like the Ancient Vampire Tellias.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Mama

Vampire Diary: Fortunes and Cookies

2017-02-17-13-54-29

Dear Diary,

The rain has started again. Even Vampires are unable to see through the windshield of an automobile when it is raining.

My old friend Randolpho came over to help me put new wiper blades onto my car. He was wearing his tall hat. I told him that it is not the fashion now. He said it was always the fashion because he, as a Vampire, made the fashion. Then he said something about someone called Slash who also wore a tall hat. Who is named Slash? I asked if he was a serial killer or an actor in horror movies. Randolpho said Slash was a killer guitarist. I asked if this Slash person was in prison. Randolpho looked at me in a confused manner and stopped talking. I did not pursue the line of conversation any longer.

I can now drive in the rain and see the road.

I think of guitarists and wonder how many are killers. I asked Randolpho about it. He said there was a band of musicians called The Killers but they do not kill. He said he thought at least one of them might be of the Mormon faith and from Las Vegas. He said The Killers were one of his favorite bands. He said a lot of great bands are from Las Vegas. He said so was Wayne Newton but he did not like the way Mr. Newton sounded like a girl. I had never heard of this Wayne Newton. I did not ask any other questions on the chance my head would explode.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

After being trapped in a crypt for three hundred years I still have much catching up to do. I often have the expectations that everything has changed. Unfortunately I must report that some attitudes and barbaric practices still exist. How superior “Modern” society thinks it is when in fact it is not. I do not understand why.

There is only one young woman living on my street as my neighbor. There were two others who have gone away to study at universities. The one left, with the name of Kylee, is going to a place of higher learning a few miles away. I am impressed that young women are now going to such places of great thinking to learn to be leaders.

I tell them all to watch out for men who would prey upon them. As a Vampire it is my duty to protect those in my life I care for. I find my heart has started to beat a few times when I think of the way my neighbors watch for me. I do not ask them to, but they happily inquire about my well being. These people offer to help me with tasks with no expectation of payment. I do not understand.

I do not understand how my heart, so hard and strong, has become like that of … I do not know. I cannot explain how I feel almost warm-blooded.

I am a Vampire King. I have led armies. I have ruled an empire of the undead. I have been just and cruel showing swift justice to those who have crossed me, and my people. And even though some call me cute, I have been feared. I have ordered heads be put on poles outside of my castle. I have watched Vampires feast as blood dripped from their chins while I laughed. Yes, I have been feared. I have made hearts stop and souls grow cold.

Yet, here in this world in which I now live, my neighbor, a woman named Liz, asked me to feed and pet her cat while she is gone for the weekend. Liz once asked me to watch her children for a few hours when she took her husband to the hospital. The children were small, a feast for some less cultured Vampires, but I watched them. The baby was not yet walking but crawled in my lap and laughed and drooled. The older child, a small boy of about six years showed me how he could draw a cat. It was, dare I say, cute.

I told him stories about the animals of the forests near where I lived as a child. There was a great bear who would eat men who came to kill for sport. He would only let those who killed for food go home to their families. There were birds who would talk and tell the secrets of all, and whisper them to the bats, who in turn would whisper them into the ears of sleeping humans, who would then wake in confusion with a sense of unknown betrayal. I told him of the beautiful hawk I hunted with. I told him of my horses, but not of the battles. This child is one who would one day make a good Vampire but I did not tell him that. After he had gone to sleep I showed the baby my fangs. She laughed. I also laughed. I knew she would keep it our secret.

I feel warm. That troubles me, but it is not altogether bad. I must go feed the cat now. Her name is Daisy. Like the flower, only she is a cat.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I was out at one of my favorite night spots, a small old local bar where people of all ages sit at dark wooden tables, and at a long bar, and talk while sipping drinks and listening to Irish Punk music (yes, I do know what that is. I am not that much in the dark about current culture.)

A few young women who frequent there like to give out cookies. I do not eat cookies. I am a Vampire. Then I thought of the singer Randolpho told me about. There were cookies made of figs called Newtons. I wondered if the singer who sounded like a girl ate fig cookies. I wondered if he wandered the Nevada desert like Moses of the Bible because figs are biblical. Then I had another glass of wine to ease the pounding in my head. I wanted blood but I would have to wait.

But tonight the young women, they tell me that these cookies they have are called fortune cookies. I told them that I did not understand. Where they like tea leaves that one could read the crumbs of such cookies to tell the future. They laughed and then one of the women cracked a hard oddly shaped cookie in half. Inside was a small slip of paper with the words You have a charming way with words and should write a book.

That was not a fortune. It was advice. A fortune would say something like tonight you die a slow and painful death.

Another cookie had a note in it with the words You may lose the small ones but win the big ones. I do not understand which ones they are referring to. I did not ask.

The women gave me another fortune cookie. I cracked it open and found the small slip of paper, and it read Boy chased girl around church and catch him by organ. The women all laughed. I did not understand. One said it was one of the dirty fortune cookies. They all laughed again. I still did not understand.

“Why would one want to eat a dirty cookie. Do you not like your food to be clean?” I asked.

They all laughed and said I was too cute. I do not understand. How can I be cute, much less too cute? Kittens are cute. Babies are cute. I am at a loss. The language of women is confusing. I will never understand.

I gave the women the cookies to eat. I went home with one and drank her blood. I left her sleeping with a smile on her face. We only talked. That is what she wanted. She is in love with a young man. I will make sure he falls in love with her. I am a Vampire. I can do that. The next morning I had flowers sent to her. What is happening to me? I, Vlad the Vampire King sent flowers.

Maybe I should write a book.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I started to read a new book. A friend recommended it. She is a Vampire as well. The book is odd but I like it. It is about science and fiction. I like this Science Fiction. It could be real, but maybe not. That sense of the unknown has a certain thrill to it. The drawing of the woman on the cover is beautiful. She reminds me of my sister. I will send her a copy. My sister is a Vampire but she would like space travel.

Strange Adventures in a Deviant Universe

My love Gillian came to me and told me to put down my book. She put her hands on my shoulders and gently carressed them. Then she walked around in front of me and gently kissed my lips. She tasted like fresh blood and cinnimon. She asked what I was reading. I told her I was in the middle of an amusing story called Hollow Heads.

She curled next to me and I read it to her. She laughed and said she wanted me to read more to her, but later… Then we made love as only Vampires can. That had nothing to do with the story we’d read. It is just what we do when we are together.

As we lay in bed, our bodies entwined, Gillian asked me if I believed there were others out in space. I glanced out the window at the moonless sky. I gently kissed her and took her hand, holding it close to my chest.

“I wonder,” I said, “if there are lovers out beyond the stars we can see tonight, asking the same question. There has to be. If I can wake after three hundred years into a world such as this, then there have to be other worlds out beyond our imagination. It would be sad to think that we were so alone, like someone locked in a crypt, withtout hope of a friend who would someday come by and break the seal.”

Gillian whispered, “I love you Vlad,” and kissed my neck, gently scraping her fangs over my skin, then moved her lips to mine.

Yes, I was on Earth, but she transported me to the stars once more, as she always does.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

CLICK here to get YOUR copy of Strange Adventures in A Deviant Universe. Available in electronic or paperback versions.  Recommended by Vampires, and Science Fiction fans of all kinds.