The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Night falls.

The last rays of the waning sun are colouring the sky and the white walls of the living room where I sit. I can feel the night coming, slowly approaching. There’s something about the very air that tells of a different life, darker, more dangerous, and somehow sharper.

I look at the red rose given to me on my seventeenth birthday, a few days back.

So red…so red against the white wall. All the colours seems to burn a bit more intensive now, just before dusk. I feel my soft black hair against my skin, falling down my shoulders and I feel the even softer velvet skirt around me. The air tastes of electricity, something is calling me.

And I am thirsting.

I am thirsting for the pure energy that only the essence of life can give.

I want blood.



I cannot stop thinking about it, the red flow of it, on some ones skin, on my lips, in my mouth…

I keep imagining a chalice filled to the brim with blood, that dark shade that you get from the oxygen filled arteries and I am lifting it to my lips and I feel it in my mouth, in my body, in my soul…

The thirst is burning inside me, a flame, craving for something to consume. Or maybe someone? My friends wanted to see me but I can’t let them near me. What would they think if they knew that I was secretly watching them, watching the blue veins on their pale wrists and dreaming forbidden dreams? I can’t hug them and dream about holding them even closer, I can’t bear to have their necks so near me, to hear their breath…

Tonight I long for bloodstained kisses and I don’t know what to do about it. If I am too near others I’m afraid that I might draw out their energy without wanting it but still I long for it, them, blood, something…



Am I a vampire?

I don’t know.

I honestly don’t know.

I only know that I am a creature with a desire for the blood and the life of humans.



I…want…blood...

A curtain of snow covers the city, turns it into a fairytale land and hides the filth. It freezes the stenches and paints beautiful crystals on the glass windows. It lights up the darkening world a bit. The first snow this winter. Tomorrow, children will play in it, dirt will turn it grey and some people will curse the slippery ice that will follow after this night. But right now, a silence seems to be flowing over the city, covering it like a heavy blanket. The church bells stroke five a few minutes ago. I smile without opening my mouth and take my first breath for the night, smelling the chilly air and savouring it like a drug. The snow makes me feel almost alive again as I walk towards the church.

I am going to have fun tonight.



It’s more of a cathedral than just a church, with a high tower pointing like dark a finger towards the starry sky. I can hear the people inside, just few priests who are finishing various tasks. It will be closed in one hour so I need to hurry. But first I have something else to do so I don’t enter the large building. Instead I sneak into an alley behind it and wait.



The first one to approach is a young man, hardly more than a boy, who walks with confidence through the darkness, despite his delicate build. He hears my chuckle but he never has time to use the knife he pulls or to defend himself as I yank his head back by the hair. I’m not holding his arms; I don’t need to. The knife lays forgotten on the ground and the fingers of his right hand are all broken. He isn’t very strong to begin with and he is not left-handed, so his clawing and twisting means nothing to me, even the weakest of my kind could have handled him. Only when he goes for my eyes do I catch his wrist, moving too fast for him to see, my other hand still in his hair. His brown eyes grow wide and underneath my fingers I can feel his pulse quickening with fear. I raise the resisting hand to my lips and plant a gentle kiss on it, surprising and confusing him even more.

The sky is darkening fast, the way it does in this time of the year and I doubt he can really see my face. It’s only my supernatural night vision that allows me to study the details in his face. The brown hair is long and tied back with a ribbon but a few bangs fall down into his face anyway. His smooth skin shows that he is one of those well-off, educated people who has never really had to work hard with his body. He isn’t wearing a wig like most of the wealthier men of this time, but then again, he can’t be older than sixteen, so perhaps he doesn’t consider himself in need of one. His eyes are large and sparkling with anger, trying to hide the fear that lies behind them. The soft-looking lips tense when he opens his mouth to scream, a scream that turns into a choked whimpering sound as I cover his mouth with my own to silence him. He tastes sweet, like the apples I enjoyed long ago and I laugh when he tries to bite my tongue. Pulling back before he has the time to do it, I smile showing my sharp fangs.



"You like biting?" I ask as he draws in a ragged breath and tense in fear "Well, that’s nice. You know what…?" I lean close as he struggles to get away "I like biting too."



My lips are now resting at the hollow base of his throat and I can feel him trembling, paralysed with fear. I smile and bite down, clamping my mouth over the cascade of blood that bursts out and sucking hard to stop any of the precious liquid from spilling. Slowly, the boy relaxes, just like I knew he would, as the pain of my bite fades and is replaced by the pleasure that the kiss of my kind can bring if we want it to.

He was pushing at me earlier, trying to shove me away with that weak little left arm. Now that same arm is resting against my chest, the hand on my shoulder playing with a loose strand of my black hair. I withdraw, put a hand over the wound to prevent the bleeding and look into his half closed, slightly unfocused eyes.



"Do you know what will happen now?" I whisper, my lips so close to his, almost touching.



His eyes slowly begins to focus again and he shakes his head as good as he can with my hand on his throat.



"Now you will die."



Is eyes open wider but he doesn’t try to get away. My guess is that he’s still weak from blood loss, pleasure and shock.



"You will die...and you will die in pleasure."



"No…" his voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper.



I laugh at him as I drive my teeth into the big vein in his neck and he moans. I almost moan too, his blood is so good. It fills my mouth and my being, thick and with that metallic taste running down my throat. The second time I release him, he is dead. I’ve almost drained him dry but there’s still a tiny little river of crimson trickling down his neck and staining his clothes. I bend down and lick it up carefully, allowing some of it to smear around my mouth just for fun. After all, the night has just begun. I drop the body unceremoniously on the ground and head for the church gates. Soon the real fun will begin.

Fog and darkness fills the London streets. The full moon is shining through the clouds and the only sound is coming from the madhouse, where the howling and weeping never stops.

The eyes of a rat gleam in a corner before it flees.



He is coming.



The grey stones are wet and shiny, like hundreds of diamonds. The flame of a lonely gas lamp flickers and dies. The sound of shoes against the stone.



He is coming.



A child trashes around in its bed, haunted by a nightmare. Far away, the sound of laughter from drunken men and the whores who accompany them. The shadows cast by the houses are deeper than the darkest of souls and blacker than the Devils own heart. Even the most godless of men mumble a prayer and make sure they are wearing a cross, for tonight the Reaper is walking over the Earth in the gown of an angel. The beggars crawl back, deep into the shadows, hurdling together like frightened children.



He is coming.



Tonight, no one will truly sleep. They will all be on their guard, like animals, hiding deep within their holes when the wolves are hunting. The figure, darker than the shadows, seems to be almost floating through the streets, the white gloves glowing in the nigh. The moon breaks through the clouds and for a second or two an angels face is illuminated, white and delicate. But there’s something about it, something’s wrong, like a false tone in a melody or a drop of blood in a strand of hair. Then the moon is gone and the figure is dark again. Rats flee from a dead dog, their mouths still full of the warm flesh. A door is locked and bolted. A young boy is walking through the streets with a bottle of wine for company until he can no longer stand. Sitting at the bank of the river he screams out his sorrow over a dead mother. The bottle is crushed against a stone when he falls, one of the shards cutting into his hand. A cat screams somewhere.



He is coming.



Thorny bushes thirst for water and men thirst for wine. The Reaper thirsts for souls and the wolves they thirst for blood, as does the twisted angels.



He is coming.

When night falls, the city lives its own life, hot, bright and laughing. They all walk through the streets, these mortal children, walking and living in a way they never would during the day. All eyes are darker, the kisses are hotter and the laughing teeth are whiter under shining lips in colours that will never see the daylight.

And I hate them.

I hate them, all these pathetic humans, with their stupid smiles and cheap lipstick, oh I despise them!

Truly. Madly. Deeply.

I see them, passing me like an endless carnival, laughing and sparkling and singing the song of life itself. I must have them. I will have them.

I drag her out from the stream. How easy it is to manipulate her mind, to whisper words to her of roses and love and all the lies she wants to hear. She disgusts me. Her shining blonde locks, her vain smile and the way she makes eye contact with me and tries to make me come closer. (don’t worry Love, I will, and when I do, it will be to late) Her blue eyes looking into mine, as I finally push her against a wall. She knew I would. Her lips are open, an invitation for me, an invitation that I take, no matter how it sickens me. She tastes of cigarettes and alcohol as we kiss and I draw away from her mouth as fast as I can, moving on down her throat. She gasps, leaning her head against the wall, baring her throat for me, the way wolves do for the superior animals. I cover the sweaty skin with little kisses, fake tenderness burning in my lips. She runs her fingers through my hair and I hope she hasn’t touched anything too filthy.

Just as the night time laughter starts to bubble in her stomach, the laughter that only life and lust and lifelust can bring forth, just when that starts, in that instant, I bite down, hard.

She tries to scream but I press my hand to her mouth before any sound has touched the night air.

And then the blood hits my tongue.

So there was something good about her after all, something that was not just cotton and candy and sparkle and plastic and cheap as lipstick…this amazes me slightly. I withdraw. She moans against my hand I smile faintly.



“That was a surprise, wasn’t it, Love?”



I look into her eyes and slowly, ever so slowly, I force her to see all of me, not just the parts she wanted, the beautiful parts that told her I was an attractive man and nothing more. Now she sees me, really sees me and she doesn’t like what she sees, that much I can tell. I know what fills her vision now, it’s the same thing that would fill a mirror if I still looked into them.

There is still a beautiful young man, with black hair, brown eyes, pale skin and slender hands. But at the same time, the hair has been tinted blood red, the eyes seems to glow with intense malice, the skin is just too pale to be alive and the hands have turned into something white and deadly, consisting of long, razor-sharp claws. My voice, which was at first silky and kind to her, now has a wicked tone that she realises she has heard all along but has pushed away…

I laugh at her as I see the realization forming behind those big blue eyes, surrounded by the dirt she calls make up. Then, when her body starts to shake with fear, I graze her cheek with my claw-like nail, letting out the blood from it’s prison underneath sweaty skin and clammy foundation cream. She moans but since my other hand is still over her mouth, no one is likely going to hear her. No one ever comes into this alley anyway, and if they did, they would not see us, not inside the dark shadow where we are.| I start kissing her neck again and this time, she tries to get away, the smell of fear rising from her skin. Oh, such a lovely smell that is, the smell of total, uncontrollable, mind numbing, heart-stabbing fear. I love her pulse now, beating in the fastest rhythm.

It is a music, a wild, wild music.

The music of fear.

I bite down again, and her sobs are beautiful in my ears.

The blood.

The blood that is the life flows into me again, filling my being as I bite deeper into her skin, making her cry out in pain. She is pressed to me, her soft Barbie doll shaped body, trying, but unable to get away. I let go and lift her chin up so that she is facing me. The eyes are red with tears and the lipstick mouth shakes. Her precious make up is now smeared all over the face, mixed with the beautiful blood that my fingerprints leave, as I touch her, almost gently. She is weaker now, I can tell by the way her struggles have lost their energy and her heart races a bit too fast to be healthy. It won’t be long until she can’t stand at all. I smile at her, my most wicked, evil smile and then, just as she starts to shudder and nearly faints, I put my claw to the shiny fabric of her tight, tasteless top and cut downwards, leaving a thin trail of blood on her now bare skin. She gasps and her attempts at escape redoubles, but I hold steady, digging my claws deep into her soft skin…



It is gone now.

Her make up, her clothes, and most of her blood. All gone from her. But she has her life left. I am standing over her tortured body, pondering if I should take that too from her. Her mouth is twisted in agony. If she dies this way, her corpse will be beautiful, a study in pain and fear. Those who find her will wonder what happened to her, what kind of monster would take her blood but not her body, her fear but not her virginity? Who indeed…

No.

I will not take her life. Or, I will not take it now. All the night of the world are mine, forever to haunt and destroy as the painless, fearless predator I am.

I have Marked her. She will realise in time what this means and when she realises…

The fear she felt tonight will be nothing compared to what she will experience when she understands the true meaning of the Marking. Always she will dread the hours when darkness falls, because the knowledge will be there, she will know that I am waiting for her, watching her from the shadows. I will spare her life and in time, she will learn to mourn for this, just as surely as the darkness will creep into the corners, no matter how many lights she has burning. And in that darkness I will be.

Waiting.

Watching.

As the light flees from the Earth, my voice will fill her mind, my voice singing to a melody, music she will know all to well.

The music of fear.

My youth always stayed with me.

Even as my friends grew old and died, it stayed.

I saw my younger brother walk as an old man walks, faltering under the weight of his years, I heard my younger sisters senile babbling, I felt my husbands skin getting old underneath my hands.

But my youth stayed.

And do you know the funny thing? Nobody ever mentioned it.

Ever.

Oh, they did mention my beautiful brown hair, they complimented my amber eyes and my white skin…

But they never really noticed. I counted my years. No one else did. Every time I counted I was surprised to find that there were a lot more of them than last time.

Strange…



I remember the nights but not the days. The days are just a long grey blur in my mind, all melted into one and the same, while the nights are like pearls on a girls most precious necklace. All gleaming white and blue like moonlight, or red…red like her blood. I do not know when it started and I do not know when it will end if it ever will. I only remember all the pearls on her necklace, the white skin underneath and underneath that…oh, Heaven itself and all the angels.

All the angels of heaven, dressed in red and the blood for me to drink from the most sacred chalice of them all.

That is what reality is to me.

A reality, which I am not sure of, not sure if it’s real. All my memories are fever dreams or maybe that’s what I want them to be. Fever dreams and no more. But the truth is that they are painfully clear.

Too painful to bear.



I remember music and dancing. I remember a whirling blue dress and a smile, a smile in the night. I remember the moon and stars and stairs and running and laughing, feeling her freedom and youth exploding in that smile she gave me.



I remember.



A castle and a room with stone walls and a bed with sheets of silk. A promise. We will not forget. Even though our love is forbidden we will not forget. We are twins you and I, in body and soul. That’s what we told each other as we kissed both laughing, she gathering my long brown locks in her hands and putting those beautiful lips to mine. But we were not twins, no, for I was not like her, I was her evil reflection but I didn’t dare tell her.

What if she pushed me away?

And then the necklace I gave her on the third night so she would know she would always be mine. White pearls and white skin…

So white…

Can I kiss those pearls, can I kiss that skin, may I touch you, my mistress, my lover, my queen? White skin, white and cool under my hot lips and then the blood, oh the blood and her scream of pain and maybe pleasure. Give it to me, give me this life that is yours for you are mine and mine alone. Wouldn’t you be mine forever? A moan in the night and her soul fled. My love, no one can take you away from me now.



Is this not what you wanted?