Vampires. People have always been fascinated with vampires, since their introduction by Bram Stoker in [insert year]. The reason people have been able to connect with vampires is because, unlike other demons, vampires undertake the form of humans. It isn’t until you are faced with one, that you realize what they really are. They’ve been romanticized through the centuries through movies. Well, I can tell you that they’re anything but romantic. They’re animals. Plain and simple. They feed and mate. And mate and feed.
They’re soulless creatures. Creatures that roam the earth waiting for their next fix. Drug addicts. We, humans, are their drugs. Our blood is. We’re just a shell that carry it. Some vampires use up all of us. Everything. But those are drafens. Infected vampires that are very different from the Kravens. The vampires we know. The drafens are so looked down upon that if a Kraven were to come upon one, they would kill it.
You are completely aware once the transformation is complete. Everything around you is different. You can see a fly as clear as day, and that’s without the help of a microscope or magnifying lense. You can smell things you could never smell with the human nose. Your senses become twice as heightened as that of an animal. You crave the dark and loathe the light. Any form of it. Silver becomes your poison. And garlic. It does shit.
There’s a myth that has led people to believe that garlic kills vampires. Well, that’s just it. A myth. It mostly just irritates us because of the smell, and our now intensified sense of smelling. It’s ironic really. I used to be infatuated with them. Vampires. Must have had something to do with Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise playing them. Or maybe it was the sensuality they possessed with their victims, as they drained them dry.
I was only seventeen when I met him. It was love at first sight. At least for me. He carried himself so gracefully, his trench coat always swaying behind him. Like an upside down cloak. He had this intense, broody look in his eyes. His eyes. God. They held so much, yet spilled nothing. Deep brown, soulful eyes. They turned a dark pool of black every time he was angry…or turned on.
Our meeting would go on like this forever. Well, it wasn’t really a meeting. Two or more people have to be involved in a meeting. No. It was more, me stalking and appreciating him from my seat in the club. And he in turn, stalking the object of his desire. A short, blonde, petite girl. It’s always a blonde. Completely oblivious to my infatuation with him.
