Old Flames Still Burn…

There is a dichotomy within the nature of our beings as vampires, an emotionless instinct for isolation that is constantly at war with a desperate need for another to mirror our own pain, our own desire and unquenchable thirst. Those of us who are lucky enough to receive proper guidance in our youth are taught to watch this closely, monitoring it with every waking second, with every breath, to make sure we do not allow one side or the other to consume us entirely. It is a delicate balancing act, but crucial, for even the slightest imbalance could cost us or sanity and cast us down into a dark well from which we may never be able to crawl out of. When alone, I manage my own balance with ease, the tugging at my soul barely noticeable after so many years of practice.

There is but one who has the power to cause that stability to splinter: Thaedus, my dark haired one I have spoken of before. His mere existence is enough to drive me over the edge, to make me desire both to flee from all of humanity, lest I have to face my more human side with all of its foibles, and allow myself to completely surrender to the beast within, that primal essence which makes me what I am. From the very moment he returned to my city my dreams became tumultuous and exhausting, my mind, even upon waking, constantly preoccupied with nagging questions and unjustified anxieties. I had not seen him again, since our one brief encounter months ago. I left him to his mysterious life and I went back to my own, as I should, only to be taken overseas and away from him. It was a good enough distraction while I was away, but the moment I returned, I knew he was still in the city, my city, and still unwilling to come to me. Forcing myself to be patient, I have waited, knowing in my heart that something more than a fledgling’s desire for independence from his Maker keeps him at bay. Something dark and sinister, which makes me fear for him. However, tonight, I received a note, left upon my doorstep. It was in his handwriting, asking me to meet him in the park at midnight tonight where he would explain everything…

I worry…

Away for a long, long time…

Ah, my lovely darklings! My sincerest apologies for the long span of time between entries here within my strange little corner of your mortal cyber realm. I, unfortunately, had to travel overseas for a while to tend to some rather unsavory personal business of an immortal nature. An unfortunate squabbling over financial resources between two rather young and petty Immortals I know had evolved into a nasty little war, which was causing quite a stir in London. If there is one thing our kind cannot have, it is a war that leaves casualties where mortal eyes might find them. Have no mistake, we have always had our wars. We are a vain and territorial race trapped here on earth for all time immemorial: it is no wonder that we occasionally feel the desire to rip out one another’s throats. It is best if we do not flaunt it in the waking world’s face, however. After several weeks there, the situation was finally diffused as best as possible and I was able to return home.

Home… Was the drama overseas or actually quite near to my nest? Isn’t it always the case?

It is true that I have been “home” for over a month, but life has been less than stable enough for me to keep my journal as planned. So very much has happened, but I will  have to begin writing of that tomorrow night. There is so much though that it may take a few entries to cover it all. I hope you will be patient with me. I am still coming to grips with the reality of it all and what it means to me, personally, and our race on a greater level. I suppose only time will tell. Tonight, however, I am meditating on it all. My thoughts I shall impart to you soon…

Bloody Kisses…

Wicked games, first we play…

I told myself I would return to the place where I had seen him, to settle in my mind the questions, the conflict that was brewing both in my heart and mind. For some unknown reason, it has taken me a few nights longer than I had originally thought it would to work up the nerve. Nerve? I ask myself repeatedly why I would need such a thing with him. It was I, after all, that created him, brought him over into my world of Darkness and taught him, with grace and beauty, how to live again. I should not need nerve, but something has held me at bay, kept me occupying my evenings with mundane chores I have convinced myself are much too “important” to ignore. *laughs quietly* I am such a fool. It is because I love him. And love can be the most sinister of riddlers at the most inopportune times. Pathetic love. It makes us weak. It drives us to irrationality, to insanity. It makes us afraid and mute. At times I hate love.

But I can’t deny its existence…or its hold over me.

As soon as the sun disappeared, I made my way back through the dark streets to the warm glow of the avenue where I had seen him upon the loft balcony far above. I scaled the wall of two-story commercial building across the street to the roof and there I stood at the edge and waited. The unit I had sensed him was still another two stories above. I waited in silence, pulling my coat tight about my body as the chill November winds accosted me so high above the earth. For a while I thought perhaps I had been mistaken for I no longer sensed him within the building, but then, there it was, that familiar flicker of heartbeat that echoed my own pulse, my own blood. My breath caught in my throat. Was he aware of me as I was of him?

My curiosity overwhelmed me; I could stay put no longer upon the roof ledge. With an effortless, feline leap I crossed the street, flying upwards to the balcony. Landing soundlessly upon the narrow slab of pale concrete and steel railing, I felt him tense within the apartment beyond. I could hear the blood rushing in his ears, feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck bristle in caution and wonder. The scent of him was strong now that only a matter of feet separated us; I found myself walking to the sliding doors and pressing against it, placing my palms against the icy, spotless glass. My breath created a small circle of fog upon the pane before me as I watched and waited for him to find me.

He rounded the corner and entered the living area. Shirtless and barefoot, he was dressed in black jeans belted at the waist with a black leather belt over his narrow hips. His immortal white skin was paler by far in contrast to dark of the fabric and the pitch of his hair that fell just over his shoulders and the large Japanese coi tattoo on his right shoulder. He paused for a moment in the middle of the room, his expression unreadable. Slowly he approached the door, pressing against it just as I did, placing his palms over mine. His pale blue eyes stared at me, unblinking for a long moment in silence, searching, questioning.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” I whispered through the glass.

He seemed startled out of his trance at the sound of my voice and at once stood back, unlocking the door and sliding it open for me.

“Thank you.” I said quietly as I passed.

The loft was spartanly furnished in a cool modern style. Sleek, uncomfortable looking sofa and single Scandinavian white arm chair in front of a brown tiled unlit fireplace. I gazed around at the strange ocher colored walls and high ceilings with exposed silver metal air ducts that ran the length of one side from front to back. The neominimalism of the modern day had never appealed to me as it left me feeling even more cold and alone than I already was. I preferred to surround myself with lush fabrics and worn memories of my life, both mortal and immortal, the smell of old books and incense, the feel of love and loss, life and death. To live in such an austere setting; one might as well simply place me in a simple pine box and be done with it.

“Were you planning on telling me you were here? Not that you are required to check in with me or anything.” I said quietly as I strolled around the room.

“Yes.” He whispered, but did not elaborate. “I…I just…”

I turned slowly and stared at him from across the room. “Yes?”

His eyes darted from mine to the door behind me, down the short hallway.

“Expecting company?” I asked and walked towards him till I stood only a couple of feet away.

“Now is just…not a good time.” He said quietly, his eyes falling to the floor.

Fire speared my heart. “I see.” I could see my reflection in the glass behind him, my face maintaining a cool emotionless to disguise my sudden flood of pain. “Well, then. I shall leave you.” I began to walk towards the balcony to let myself out.

As I passed he grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him. He stared down at me, a good head taller than I, “I will find you soon. I promise. I have much to tell you.” He tried to force a smile, but the tension that held him captive made his lips tremble at the corners.

I nodded and silently left…

Now, as I write this I feel overcome with regret. I should not have been so impatient; I should have waited for him to find me. Then again, this has never been my way. One would think that after 400 years I would have learned patience, but no. My heart has always won over the rationale of my mind where passion is concerned. Yet, now he is all I can think of, all I want to think of. I will have to find a way to distract myself until he wanders my way, if he wanders my way… Ah, distractions…

I need to hunt…

A glimpse of the past…

I awoke too early tonight, an hour before the sun had fully set.  With a gasp my eyes had flown open, my heart racing as if I had been running from something terrible in my dreams.  Though the shadows of my bedroom still held me close in their cool blue embrace, I could feel the heavy hand of the sun’s rays just beyond the tightly fastened shutters and drawn drapes. Very rarely do I dream now, the sleep impermeable to the restless demons of my subconsciousness, yet tonight my mind felt heavy and disoriented with the ghosts of images that slipped from my grasp in an oily elusiveness.  His scent was all around me, thick in my nose as if he had lain next to me as I slept.  I closed my eyes and rolled over, pressing my face into the pillow and inhaling deeply.  Even the fabric held his perfume, sweet and strange, amber and earth and salt.  I knew there was no way he could have gained entrance to my home, past the layers of alarms I set each morning shortly before dawn.  I knew this, yet the residue of the dream was simply far too real forcing me to leave my bed and prowl through the house, checking each dark corner just in case my senses had suddenly failed me after all these long years.  Nothing.

The house was empty…

I had planned on returning to the loft where I had sensed him last night, but something is holding me captive.  Perhaps it is the lingering question of how he may have changed in the fifty years since I last saw him?  Or what brings him back to the city of his dark rebirth?  Fifty years, after all, is not a great deal of time for one of our kind, not nearly enough time to experience the world and all of its myriad wonders.  No, tonight I had chosen to lose myself in the hunt, hoping the blood of a fresh kill might focus me more completely and chase away the remnants of the dreams that still clung to me, a second skin of reminiscence.  And for a while it did…but it could not make me forget entirely…

Tomorrow night…I make this promise to myself…tomorrow night…

Lonely street corners…

The store windows are beginning to fill with twinkling strands of Christmas lights and glittering tinsel.  Gaudy displays of commercialized holiday sentiment lends to the city a surreal quality.  It adds to the loneliness that permeates the cooling concrete as the sun sinks behind the skeletons of half completed high rises that will one day house the aneorexic new wealth of this era. Earlier this evening, as soon as it was safe for me to venture out, I took a walk down to the avenue of boutiques and coffee shops near my home where the beautiful and the trendy linger in search of some sort of puesdo divinity in the shape of a tight ass in a new pair of 7 jeans.  So pretty they are, their painted features and their sophisticatedly styled hair, both men and women, illuminated by the glow of the store windows by which they pass. They pay no attention to me.  I am just another pale wan figure in my black overcoat and high heel boots.  They are too transfixed by their own irrelevant state of being.

The sky is purple now from the ambient glow of the buzzing city beneath it. I can see it from my living room window where I sit and write this.  I sometimes feel I have lived here too long, each lonely street corner harboring too many ghosts for me to bear.  I have been alone a very, very long time.  My last companion left years ago, desiring to travel the world and experience it in his newfound immortality just as I did centuries before.  I did not want him to leave, but who am I to keep him here when I know all too well that desperate desire to take life in one’s teeth and taste it as never possible as a human.  Literally and metaphorically.

I thought him long gone from my life forever, until tonight.  It may very well be my own renewed desire for companionship, but I could have sworn that I caught a glimpse of him, a whiff of the perfume of his soul.  It was far away, high above me upon the terrace of a loft I passed down near the park, but it caught my attention instantly, halting me immediately in my tracks.  I glanced up to see a figure, a man standing there staring out over the city.  He did not appear to notice me and turned away to disappear inside.  Shaking my head, I tried to dismiss the moment.  I can’t forget it, though, no matter how hard I try.  My soul knows he’s here, in this city, somewhere and I need to see him again, if I can.

Tomorrow night, I will return to that building…

these last rays…

This evening I awoke as the last rays of sunlight were fading from the sky.   I pulled back the heavy curtains over my bedroom windows and lay down upon the bed I still keep. Through the  mini-blinds that have hung undisturbed for years, their plastic slats yellowing and coated with layers of undisturbed graying dust, the dying light still seeped in a sad and shallow way.  I lay for a long time watching the light fade, the shadows creeping in around the far edges of the room to slither over me, held at bay by the harsh orange glow of the street lamp that soon flicked on as the sky grew black.  I found myself holding my breath to fight back tears.  There is never enough time to savor those escaping rays, never enough time to treasure what we desire most. Even when time is eternal, unending.  In between those lines of light and dark we exist, mortal and immortal alike.  Alone. Unquenched.  Desiring to be desired.  Longing to feel the light upon our limbs, infused with the passion of life.  I cringe inside to think of the young life I will take tonight, knowing that they are seeing in me what they desire most, knowing I cannot give them anything more than a swift release from their pain and mortal coil.  They are all so beautiful, so fractured, so sweet with their exquisite eternal self incrimination and damnation like a Modigliani painting with hollow eyes and sad soft oils blending with their lamentations.  I can surround myself with them, yet never will I be a part of them. Never…

this quill has no feather…

Tonight I have begun a new journey.  Not one of spiritual enlightenment, which seems to be of all the “rage”, as they say among the world of Hollywood celebrity, but one of adaptation.  Adaptation to an age where one’s innermost secrets are laid bare upon the face of transmutable organism that still seems so incredibly alien to my senses.  Is there such thing as a secret anymore?  Sometimes, I think think not.  That the priest’s confessional is really a thing of the past, that there is nowhere we can truly turn to confide in private…and, then and again, why would we?  Are not the secrets of others what we desire most?  What fuels the mundane insanity that is modern society?  In an age where we are more truly alone than we have ever been…at least in my 400 years…  Secrets…hmmmmm… I have a few of those.

Would you like to hear my secrets? That is why I began this “blog”, isn’t it? Well, I promise, my dear mortals, as this journey begins, you will find me splaying my soul before you as I have never dared to before in the past.  I realize that others, such as the legendary vampire Lestat, have revealed themselves in a similar fashion before, but allow me to follow suit.  This shall be my nightly exhale, from the confessionary to the mundane… I beg you, be kind.

A simple greeting…

Welcome to my dark little corner of your mortal cyber realm… Please be patient. This vampire is still getting used to such delicious little tools as this…

Bloody Kisses