The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Great Expectations
08:56 Mar 25 2013
Times Read: 424






So, here we are, leaving Winter behind and entering another Spring. For me and my family, this has always been signaled by a large family gathering for Easter Sunday. I never used to have much of a problem or complaint about going "home" for Easter, but that was before several personal truths made themselves abundantly clear to me.



It was the middle of last week and I was talking with a very close friend here on VR and I was rudely interrupted by a phone call from my mother. I wouldn't have answered the phone, except it rang like 12 times and my family would take it upon themselves to have called the police, ambulance or any other emergency responder they could find to see if I was dead or something, because I hadn't talked to them in over two weeks. Excuse me for being 42 years old and having a life of my own. So, I answered the phone.



After a 30 minute lecture of why I "needed" to come home, it just made me even more certain of why I *didn't* want to go visit everyone. My family still think that I am 16 and after getting off of the phone with my mother, I had a screaming, raving headache. When I go home I feel like a little kid who has never grown up. They still want me to be "little miss goodie two shoes" who never did anything wrong. Well, that ship sailed a long time ago.



I feel like the black sheep of my family who has failed to live up to their great expectations. My stroke caused me to lose so much of what I had learned in college, but at the same time, I gained so much where my vampirism is concerned. But I can't tell them about that! They'd have me committed! I'm stronger, stronger than Ive ever been in my entire life. My senses are augmented beyond belief and I'm more self-confident than I've ever been before. I feel like I could do anything that I put my mind to, except when it comes to my family.



When I go there, I feel like I have to hide everything about who I really am. Not to mention the fact that this family gathering is HUGE. It's like 30 people in one house, all of them wanting to know what is going on in my life. If I answer a question, I end up having to answer it like 30 times! It's like the Spanish Inquisition! Even with shields up, as a strong empath, believe me, you feel like pulling out every last hair on your head by the end of the day. Not to mention Im afraid that I'm likely to get angry enough to toss an energy ball at somebody!



When I'm there, I have to be who they expect to see, not who I really am. Not only do I have to stay in the coffin, I also have to stay in the closet about being bisexual. So, is it any wonder that I plan on skipping Easter this year? Maybe, if I miss enough family get togethers, they will start to get the message that I want to be able to live my own life, in my own way and on my own terms. Maybe they will and maybe they won't. But regardless of what they do, I must and I will remain true to myself.

Family Secrets
03:11 Mar 11 2013
Times Read: 472

It’s time to get to know me a little better. It really is kind of a complicated story, which I have very little detail about. I grew up in the Bible Belt and have the misfortune and fortune of being different; different from my family members, from members of my church and from the town in which I lived. I never felt like I belonged anywhere in my youth, even though I was well liked and very popular.

My dad was adopted by his biological aunt on his mother’s side. The interesting thing about that is that, when my mother disclosed this “big family secret” to me, I already knew. It was just something I had always sensed, regardless of my lack of proof. My mother’s admission to me gave me the validation that my instincts were accurate. I think this must be the first time that I knew I was much more different than everybody else than I had previously thought, a fact I was not made privy to until I was 20 years old.

There were other things, besides the fact that he was adopted, which I noticed about my dad. He never meets a stranger and seems to have this almost other-worldly charm and charisma about him. People just flock around my dad and seem to be very comfortable with him and, as for my dad, he thrives in this environment. My dad almost seems to know what someone is thinking before they say it, a fact which stands out very starkly to me now. Then there are the animals. My father seems to have this uncanny ability to communicate effectively with animals. Many times while I was growing up, our dogs would bark and howl incessantly until my dad would open the door and order them to shut up. The crazy thing is, they obeyed him at his every word. At the same time, my father was far from being a tyrant to the animals. In fact, he often drove my mother into a frenzy because he somehow was continually crossing paths with stray animals. My dad would take pity on them, bring them home with him and nurse them back to health until he could find proper homes for the animals.

Then there’s the weather. There have been times when I have seen my dad get extremely upset and I would watch as a perfectly sunny day would suddenly grow dim as storm clouds gathered over head. Sometimes it would rain next, and at other times it didn’t rain. But the dark clouds always came and they stayed there, at our house, until he was calm again. To make it extra special creepy for you, my dear readers, I lived so far out in the country that country folk said I lived in the sticks! I mention this because, sometimes, the best way to deal with my dad’s anger was to just give him space to calm down. My mother, sister and I would sometimes leave the house while my dad was angry and, the closer we got to leaving the hollow in which we lived, the fewer and lighter the storm clouds would become, until it became quite obvious that the clouds had accumulated ONLY around our home, and nowhere else. But most of the time, my dad was a big ol’ teddy bear.

Then we have my mother. To give you an idea about her, BaronessGreycastle, my partner/Sire, speaks from experience when she says that she would rather face off against vampires, werewolves *and* witches long before she would face my mother. She’s only half joking when she says it. Now, my mother has many redeeming qualities such as an iron clad work ethic that is to be fiercely admired. She is smart and can be very funny and she is a wonderful mother and grandmother to my sister’s children. But there were things I noticed about her too. My mother hates horror movies, which in and of itself means nothing, but there’s more. My mother hates graveyards and won’t go near them except on Memorial Day, and she dreads that day with a passion. I once told my mother that I wanted to live in a genuine Victorian house one day, complete with a ghost in the attic. My mother’s immediate response was to say that she would never come visit me under those circumstances. There was something so steely and determined in her voice when she said that to me, which has made me remember it so clearly, even after all of these years.

My mother once said to me and my sister that she hoped we would never have to see what she can see. I also know that my mother has premonitions. She once dreamed that my sister would be kidnapped, so she and some friends agreed to watch over my sister and not let her be anywhere alone. That day, someone got into my sister’s car and stole her gym bag with her track clothes inside of it. Another time, my mother got a call from my grandmother, who was calling to announce that one of my cousins was pregnant. Before my grandmother could finish delivering the news, my mother simply said, “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” My mother even accurately predicted that the baby would be born a boy, despite the fact that all of the grandchildren up to that point were girls. She was right. When I put all of these facts together, I can only logically come to one conclusion: my mother carries “the dark gift” within her as well; though she would never talk about it. Now my mother hates my partner/Sire with a never-ending passion. On the rare occasion when my mother comes into my house, she knows, without fail, that the Baroness is there, in some other room of the house, or that my partner had been inside the house at a very recent time.

Then there is my sister who, as a child, claimed with all sincerity that she could talk to ghosts. Interestingly enough, many years later, when my oldest nephew was just a small child, he claimed to have spoken with his dead great-grandfather, who told my nephew his favorite song and color. My nephew told this to my sister in casual conversation when he heard the song that his great-grandfather had loved so much. Apparently, the “dark gifts” do not consider age a factor in when they decide to emerge, as my nephew was only 4 years old when this happened.



These are all very interesting facts which lead me to only one logical conclusion: supernatural abilities clearly seem to run in my family and I would be confident in betting that I get all of my dark gifts from my parents, who are oblivious to their state and status. They probably will always be that way, as will the rest of my family. The one possible exception to this rule could very easily be my dad’s birth mother, whose name is never to be spoken in the presence of my family. The circumstances surrounding my father’s adoption by his aunt have been shrouded in mystery for all of my life. My parents have forbidden me from pursuing any knowledge of my biological grandmother and I am left to wonder, “What in the world is this big family secret and why won’t anyone tell me about her?” I know my grandmother wants to find me because, back in December of 1992, when my adopted grandmother passed away, my birth grandmother contacted my father and said that she would like to get together and get to know “his family”, his children, particularly his oldest child: me.

My father forbids her to ever contact him again or to try to contact anyone in his family ever again. At this time, I was already of legal age, married (that’s a story for another day). So, I really feel that my dad had absolutely no right to decide for me that I have no right to know my biological grandmother and the circumstances surrounding his adoption. To make his adoption even more complicated, my biological grandmother had another son, who is 18 months older than my dad. He was adopted by the oldest sister of my biological grandmother. I know his first name, but don’t know his last name or how to get a hold of him or his family either. Getting weird enough for you yet? Finally, I know that my biological grandmother lives in Florida somewhere, but I have no idea where. I know that she is married and that she had other children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, all of which I’d like to meet. I know her maiden name, Geneva Collins, but I cannot track her down because I don’t know her married name.

Of course, being as hard headed as I am, I have never given up my quest to find my father’s birth mother and ask her for her side of the story. Is she the source of my father’s abilities? If so, that would also make her responsible for my supernatural abilities; some of them, at least.

People always want to know where they come from, but for me it is different, because I am different…..from everyone. Does my biological grandmother have answers for me to explain where my abilities come from? Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that I want to find her, talk to her, learn from her and see what she can tell me about these mystical traits in my kindred family. My partner/Sire is confident that we will find my grandmother and that she will hold at least some of the answers I seek.