I was born into this living death in the nineteen-thousand-and-twenty-fifth when a charming, well-dressed man with smouldering eyes jumped at me from a bush and started eating my neck.
As the blood drained from my body to his, our bodies pressed close and his mouth clamped to my flesh, I saw things through a haze, as though drowning. Slowly, his eyes burning into mine, I became horribly aware that he was taking me over, transforming me into one of his own. Two things became clear through the pain and the mist. Firstly, I realised the future held no end; that I was changing into something eternal, something of the night. Although the body of me would still go on, my nature was no longer human, but that of a feral creature. And secondly, I realised with acute sensitivity i could smell the blood of the living
And so this is my existence:
I am creeping silently
I cannot help how I am. It is not a matter of choice. I was born this way.
My prey walks about twenty yards ahead of me, hands in pockets, his body cute and gloriously full of blood. But now he senses something – a noise, perhaps, or just an animal instinct – and he looks round, begins to speed up. This doesn't worry me. I can track him through the darkest, foulest conditions, and I can match him for speed until he drops from exhaustion. I have all night, and I can play with him. His terror will not affect the blood unlike the bitter taste of adrenaline-soured blood, which can be a nightmare to get out of your mouth. You go on tasting it for days.
Now my prey is running, a nervous jog at first, but then at terrified full tilt, and the chase is on. I move swiftly, easily, a loping run that covers the ground almost without touching it. My breath comes fast
He's fast, my prey, and brave enough not to give in, or embarrass both of us by begging for mercy. I almost feel sympathy, and am keenly aware that he will be a great loss to the middle-distance running community. I used to be a bit of a dab-hand at the fifteen hundred yard dash myself, before a tendon in my knee thought otherwise. None of those problems now, and I am able to put in a simple, predatory burst of speed, and I surge forward.
I put my hand on his shoulder, and he knows.
My prey looks at me with tear-filled eyes. "Please…" he whispers, and I understand fully. I think he understands me too, although I cannot be sure of it. But then the moment – a precious, silent glimpse of empathy – snaps, and I lunge at him. My attack is ferocious, and I rip at him with a passion. But I am also precise, because he has deserved a quick finale, and in any case, his blood will be curdled with adrenaline, and I want to taste as little of it as possible. In a matter of seconds, his body lies warm and limp in my arms. blood.
I lay him down in the early morning silence of the municipal park. The sun will be rising in an hour or so, but I have time enough. Gently, with a care for decorum, I remove his clothes, and lay them neatly by his side. Now, I'm aware that this whole description will probably cause much tut-tutting in the ranks, but the process is an absolute necessity if I am to properly access all the major blood centres. And… well, until you've tasted blood, flowing sweet like nectar from a naked body! You can't understand, you just can't. Not properly.
His skin glows pale in the moonlight, running smoothly over tautly stretched muscles. His head flops idly to one side. I can see exactly the places where the blood has collected, and although I am almost at breaking point, I stretch out the delicious, fevered anticipation a little longer. Then delicately, almost nervously, I crouch over him and slowly bend downwards to his neck. My lips touch his skin, I bite deeply, and – oh! The blood surges into my mouth, rich and full and oh so gloriously blood. I move down to his armpit, across his thorax, and onward to his groin and inner thighs, and I am in heaven.
I finish, and aware of the encroaching sun,i lift him and his clothes and I walk home. I am liberally covered in blood, which I never denied was a very messy fluid. I ponder my existence, as I often do in the calm after I have fed. I cannot deny that I cause pain and terror – that is my nature, I am a vampire, after all – but I do feel that I try to balance it out with a certain etiquette, even affection. I probably do not do enough of this, but… I'm trying. I also know that I am different, and that sometimes this causes me pain. But then, what am I different from? A collection of other differences, all of which have only in common that they are not my difference. That, surely, is what we call society. That's the rich, wonderfully complicated tapestry that we inhabit. That's what makes us whole. And surely we should, we must, embrace that? Because, when it comes down to it – when I hear the blood singing to me across the city, and the taste flows like honey in my mouth – I am left in no doubt… I am in love. or at least thats what i thought that was until the events that followed.
as i reach my house i lay my latest meal in my bed. i just now notice how goodlucking he is with rather long hair that covers part of his face. i dont normally bring victims home and i dont yet know why i brought him maby it was his goodlucks. i decide i shall wait by his side until he awakes a member of the undead. surely enough an hour later his terrorfied eyes look at me as i sit beside him gently stoking his hair from his eyes. he looks about to scream so gently cover his mouth. please do not scream i am sorry for what i have done to you. im not sure why but instead of trying to run he gently moves my hand from his mouth and nods in agreement. im sure if he waas still himan i would hear his heart beating wildly at this very moment but nothing just silence like my own. he gently sits up and smiles at me showing the impressive fangs i given him.
he looks deep into my eyes and suddenly kisses me. as i go to push him away i realise this is the first time i have been kissed since i became a member of the living dead and without realising i begin to kiss back. he moves me to lay on the bed beside him and before i realise it he is undressing me. i help and start to undress him room seems to increase in temperature as me and liam get closer i dont really understand how all this started so quickly but it becomes apparent that he must like me as his kisses increase and become more passionate. the next thing i know he is ontop of me and i no longer wish to stop him. almost as if i am in a trance of passion. as i feel his arousal pushing into me a shot of excitement runs through me almost feeling like it would kick my heart into life. he slowly pushed his hard aroused cock into me my fangs apear from pleasure. he thrusts in deeply again and again faster and harder making my head spin. i never want it to end as his thrusts intensify and i feel his hands all over my naked body. i had never experienced anything like this before and he didnt seem all too experienced at it but it felt too good for me to care and i deeply press my fangs into his neck not to drink but to give him pleasure and as i pull my fangs out he does tha same back to me. i have not felt anyone bite my neck in over 2 thousand years and the bite felt fantastic. i suddenly became aware of a sudden tickle where my heart would be and as my pleasure build i realised it was a pulse. its been so long since i had felt it i hardly recognised it. i felt liams chest and he too had a beat. our pulses increased as his thrust yet again got faster and harder until neither of us could controll our selves and realease ultimate passion ont eachother as our bodies shake togther from pleasure.
no as i lay next to the sleeping body of liam a stranger that 7 hours ago i claimed the life of there is no doubt in my mind i have eventually found love.
and You can't argue with love.