I immediately knew that I had to make the perilous journey to Vampire Mountain. I had been accepted as one of their kind when I was a mere teenager. Now that I'm two hundred and eighteen earth years old, I had to resume my duties as an honorary vampire. My rush, you ask? Well, it all started one night in my small hometown, Hannesburg. A tiny little place, easily forgotten. I had met a boy here way back before we were both blooded. I saw him regularly at The Ruby, a hangout for all the cool kids. He bought me a drink often. I believe his name was Larten Creeply, or something along those lines. Soon, we lost contact with each other. But one night, he was watching Mr. Bronnes, the butcher, very carefully. This naturally piqued my interest. I had vaguely forgotten of his transformation from human to vampire, but there he was, moving much faster than a petty human. I also saw the scarring of his fingertips, the mark of the undead. That's when I remembered that he was almost elected to be a Vampire Prince, but he declined and disappeared out into the world. I noticed a long scar engraved in the left side of his face. Larten must've gotten in a tussle with someone strong, the old devil. I hid in the shadows and noticed two other boys staking out. Maybe they were all targeting the fat old butcher. I gasped when I caught a glimpse of Murlough in the shadows. Murlough was the most insane, evil vampaneze one could ever encounter. Sadly, this wasn't my first sight of him or any other crazy vampaneze. All of the boys slid into Mr. Bronnes' butcher… store. I glided over to a grimy window and watched as the most terrifying and spectacularly dangerous event of my week unfolded.

I saw as Larten slid after Mr. B and possibly the purple-skinned freak, Murlough. One of the boys, I suspected of recently being blooded, snuck after him. I guess the light-skinned boy didn't want to come. Or maybe he was not meant to come upon the vampaneze kind. Larten waited until his victim squatted on the floor to examine something of interest, then seemingly attacked. The boy pulled out a rusty knife and randomly slashed in Larten's direction. Missing his obvious target, he struck him in the shoulder, giving poor old Mr. Bronnes a shock. The boy hunched over Larten and they discussed something of importance for a while. Suddenly, Murlough appears and attacks the two blindly and leaves. I creep over to the corner and watch as Murlough departs carrying the other boy over his broad shoulder. To my eyes, the poor soul was dead as soon as Murlough stopped somewhere. Soon, Larten and his assistant emerge and the boy is distraught over the loss of his friend. Especially so close to Christmas! I bowed my head in pity and made the death touch sign for Murlough's victim, and soon afterward I relieved myself to my lodgings after a nice pint of blood.

I awoke alarmingly two nights later. My head was pounding like a drum. Must've been bad blood, I thought. I made my way to the door with my stuff while readying to change hotels. I decided to walk around a bit, clear my head. During my walk, I saw Larten and the little half-vampire changing beds too. I watched a light come on in a room on the second floor and decided to mark my presence. I must not let my old friend forget that he's in my thoughts, should I not?