“I feel the best way for me to get my story out is to write it down myself. I thought of hiring an interviewer, but felt the interviewer might not survive long enough to finish his assignment. You see I am a vampire, and any living human is fair game as you will soon understand.
There is no sanctuary from the disease that flows through my veins. No cure can be found, and I have had the best doctors over the endless years try to heal me. Blood transfusions only make me stronger, though they do not satisfy my hunger. I have taken every medicine invented over the many hundreds of years I have existed. Nothing has worked. I would love to exist no longer, but I have not yet found a way to die.
One might think that after hundreds of years I would grow cold and unfeeling to the pain and horror I have caused countless people. That is the true irony of this disease, for I do have feelings. I do not wish to kill, but I cannot resist the great hunger that compels me to feed. The only thing I have found that will quench my great thirst is the fresh, warm blood of a living human donor.
When I take their blood I dare not leave them breathing, for that is the worst thing I could do. Once I pierce the skin with my fangs the person either dies, or goes on to exist as I do for all eternity. I am careful not to create another of my kind by not finishing the job. I must be sure every drop of blood has been drained. I must be sure that their heart beats no longer.
You must think what a terrible thing I am, and you are quite right, but you must also realize that it is a disease. I have no control over my actions. When I am feeding I feel only overwhelming satisfaction, and when I finish, and look upon my victim, I feel a great sorrow at what I have done. No matter how great the sorrow, the hunger is a thousand, no, a million times greater.
Even in sleep I find no relief, for every time I sleep I dream, and I see every soul I have ravaged. They are relentless, and are always with me. I cannot forget a single one of my victims, and they are many. Each horrified face passes through my dreams one at a time until I wake from the nightmare into the true nightmare that my life, or non-death, has become.
Now, if you will, I will tell you how I became one of the undead. I do not know when or how the first vampire was created. It is said that it was a spell cast by an evil witch on a poor unsuspecting young man who shunned her amorous advances. It could have been someone who welched on a deal with the devil, or an alien that crash landed on our little planet.
As for me I had a fairly good childhood, a loving mother and a hard working father. The times were much different then. I had a job at four years of age working beside my father. We were planting, weeding, and later harvesting for a local farmer. It was hot, tiring work, but I was with my father, which made me very happy and content.
By age fourteen I took a liking to smithing, and took a job with the local blacksmith. I was in charge of keeping the fire going and the cooling bucket full of water. Every day at about two o’clock Mary Armstrong would pass the blacksmith shop and peek into the open door. She would wave and smile at me with her lovely and rather toothy smile. She had a cute, small-featured, lightly freckled face.
I had known Mary since my farming days with my father. Her father had owned the farm at which we worked. I had always been entranced by her beauty. She had long, flowing, golden locks and deep blue eyes; as deep and blue as the ocean on a cloudless day.
I had only had three years of schooling, but I did learn to read and write. Mary had a hand in that and spent many hours allowing me to read to her. The fact that she would spend the time with me was all the incentive I needed. By age seventeen I had saved enough money to buy a little piece of earth and my father helped me build a small cabin.
I felt it was time to ask Mary to marry me. She eagerly agreed and we were wed in the church we had both grown up in. The whole town attended the blessed event and the reception was held outside. It had been a beautiful warm spring day and the party lasted well into the star-filled, moonless night.
Nine months later almost to the day my first son was born. No words can adequately describe the love I felt for that boy. At four, like me and my father, I was able to bring him to the blacksmith shop to work with me. My chest poked out so far with pride I could barely see the ground.
With the birth of my second son my already overwhelming love for Mary increased as I gazed upon my wonderful family. We had it made. The blacksmith was going to move away and asked if I would like to buy the business. Even with four mouths to feed I had managed to save enough money to make the purchase.
That very night I was riding home to tell Mary of our good fortune. We would be able to afford a bigger place closer to town as we had outgrown the little cabin. It had only been a few moments since the sun had gone down. The road was not much more than a path by today’s standards, and was lined on both sides by thick woods.
Suddenly the horse reared and I was thrown to the ground. There was a loud crack then raging pain as I realized I had broken my leg. As I writhed on the ground clutching my busted limb a dark figure appeared over me. The only thing I could make out in the darkness was these red almost glowing eyes.
I struggled futilely with the creature, and it quickly overpowered me. I felt the fangs as they plunged deep into my skin and pieced my jugular. All the pain left my body as the creature relieved me of the life giving fluid that coursed through my arteries. The bone in my leg somehow healed itself as the monster continued to slowly suck the life out of me.
Unfortunately for me a horse and buggy bumped noisily down the road and scared the monster off. You see, he did not finish the job, and I was created.
Over the next few days I began to change. Red meat became the only food that could satisfy my voracious hunger, but only if it were raw or barely cooked. Soon even that was not enough. My family that I once looked upon with love and great joy now were little more than a meal. When I began to feed feeding was everything, there was nothing else.
That night, that horrible night still haunts me more than any other. My wife was soundly sleeping beside me when I awoke engulfed in an uncontrollable hunger. I no longer saw my wife I saw only relief from a great desire to feed. I did not merely drain her of blood with my new found fangs; I actually chewed and swallowed bits of her soft, warm flesh.
Due to the animal like noises I made as I feasted, my son awoke and came into the room. What a horrific sight it must have been for the five year old boy to see. He saw me as I looked up; my face covered in blood. The terror he must have felt as I slowly approached him, fangs fully extended; dripping the last of his mothers once life giving blood.
The young boy’s blood was especially invigorating as I drained every drop from his pulsating carotid artery. Then I went for my youngest son. At only one year old his body did not contain near the amount of the crimson fluid my wife’s had. It seems though, the younger the better as I quickly sucked down what little blood his small body had to offer.
Only after I had finished feeding was I able to realize what I had done. My beautiful wife and my two sons lay bloodless and dead before me, but I was full; my great hunger had been sated.
Now I am so alone. I have no friends, for when I do, perchance, make a friend the relationship is always short-lived. It does not take long for my hunger to take command and they soon become my next meal. My hunger is stronger than any friendship, and sadly, any love.
So you see it is like the wolf pouncing on the hare. He does it because it is what he must do to survive. He has no malice towards the hare, but the urge to feed is tremendous. I have tried to fight it, but alas, it is impossible. When darkness falls I must begin the hunt.
Now, like the old lion, I have grown weary of the hunt. I no longer wish to go out into the world in search of prey as I once did. Hidden in the words of this story is a code, which allows me to contact your mind. If you have read this story exactly as I have written it you can at any time come under my control. You will be compelled to come to me whenever I call. I have tried this before on a much smaller scale and have found it to be quite effective.”
I’ll be seeing you,
I Vampire –By James G. Kelly