A vampire's confession

Yesterday evening, as I put order to my archives, I discovered a fragment of a long lost correspondence between a long lost friend and his improbable lover. I might be able to get in touch with him again, so that you can ask him about his kind in the comment section.
Here it is, for you to enjoy.

Here, I am to fulfill your request and tell you about our kind...

Lady, I will beg you to forget what you already know, what you think you know about all of us, the cursed, the jinxed, the kindred, the ancient ones.
In all my years, and lady forgive me if I daresay they are numerous and heavy on my restless self, I have witnessed the birth and persistence of the young ones' lies.
From the most grotesque aspersions to the most ridiculous idolatry, our race have been bathed in wrongness since the very birth of yours, birth I have seen unravel before my eyes.

Folk tales, literature an movies have given us many names. Vampires, Lycans, Werewolves, Undeads... The truth is, little child: we are gods, and we are mistakes.
We are the unloved offspring of an inept creator, we are the feral rejects of Him Who Has A Greater Plan.
You have read about us, without even knowing it. Every mythology tells our story.
We are the Titans, Annunaki, Giants, Ases. We are the Angels. Shaped without a soul and untouched by death, frozen in our state of indefinite existence.
We do not die, we do not grow old, and we do not have a soul.
This is why you, humans, fear and hate us.

Yes, our appetites are great. Imagine for an instant, infant, what it feels to know that, after you are finally destroyed, you will simply cease to exist. Can you feel our longing for life? A desire so strong, a craving so ancient, that it is on this very life that we feed.
We have been portrayed as slavers, basking in lust and blood, yet we hide and nourish ourselves from your leftovers. Our hunger knows no limits; I, have exhausted many a female, gorging myself of their life force, through their flesh, their pleasure, their screams.
By now, I know how to subsist on the shadow of a smile, the shy shivering of a sleepy soul.
By now, we all know.
Times, dear newborn, have changed. Blood is not spilled in the same way, lust is not shared in the ways of old.

Nonetheless, even during our most reckless feedings, we never were as written is your books.
Some of us succumb to jealousy toward those who can die. Some of us stay in the shadow, and withdraw, decaying without even passing away, burnt to the core by our famine.
None of us enslaves. None of us can turn one of yours into one more deathless being. We do not fear god, we do not fear light. We fear the world we have been watching since apes stood up.

I have read the word 'whore', typed from your fingers. I must say I find it revolting.
Budding beings, able of merely a hundred years of existence, impersonating us, smearing our manners, language, refinement with the dirt of common words.
Harlot! Wanton! Yes. Promiscuous females of repulsive complexion they are! But mind your language...

Do you only know, my heart, that the word 'whore' is rooted in love? Yes, it does mean 'heart'. 'Carus' is the Latin term, term I have used myself to express my care toward so many lovers lost to time. And yet I see your ephemeral ilk, grossly turning hearts onto objects of mercantile sexuality.
This word alone is enough for me to say: you do not know us, mortals.

Ask me, growing thing, ask me whatever about the kindred. I will tell you, I will tell you how wrong you are.


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A vampire's confession by Danny Hefer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.