Our Untold Aberrant Myth.

TO: Whoever Finds This Journal.

I've noticed that the full moon has no effect on my kind, unlike it does on the ones with foul blood, with misplaced identities, the lycanthropes – the ones commonly referred to as werewolves.
They go raving mad under the influence of the full moon, with a terrible and an
almost insatiable thirst for blood. More insatiable than MY thirst for blood, it
frightens me to say so.

The full moon is their strength.
But it is also their weakness,
For it forces them to turn, to shapeshift, into their true forms, into the savage
animals they truly are – the animals they've always been. Wild, bestial, incredibly strong, yet naturally stupid and very reckless animals. So reckless that – under the influence of the full moon – they're rather vulnerable to my kind.
A drop of the blood of a fully turned werewolf on the tip of my tongue means one week of immortality for me.
But while it would grant me this ephemeral immortality, I fear it would also drive me raving mad.
A small price to pay.
––
You see, I'm not a pure blood vampire and so my cravings for the blood of humans is quite controllable. Being a half-blood has this one great advantage, but the thing is,
I'm not invincible, nor immortal, like the pure bloods.
I'm not a god.
I can't live for more than a week without feeding.
I can die.
––
The humans... they think their blood keeps us alive.
How wrong they are.
We, vampires, feed off something more powerful – more sacred, more satisfying,
than the blood of humans.
Or that of werewolves.
––
Fear.
And... memories.
We feed off their fear and memories.
––

At this juncture, you, dear reader, should heed this note of warning If you are a human reading this, it is highly imperative that you stop here and unlearn every single knowledge I've shared with you about my kind and the lycanthrope.
Stash this journal somewhere beyond the reach of any human.
Bury it, then bury the knowledge you've learnt from it.

The secrets I've divulged so far are quite trivial – unimportant – and pose no threat to your mental well-being.
But I'm about to share a bigger secret.
And be advised that knowledge of this secret I'm about to share is bound to haunt you – if you ARE human – for as long as you live. And, perhaps, even in death.
So, Stop.
Reading.
.
Unlearn.
Everything.
Now.!

---

As the humans discovered three generations ago, we, vampires, like to dwell in cold,dark-corners because the sun that strengthens their kind is the bane of our very existence.
We are also denied the joy of the narcissist, to stare into the mirror for long hours, basking in the glory, admiration and perfection of the beauty of our kind.
I believe it is our penance for cheating death –
God's idea, of course.
––
Like the civilised beings we are, we half-blood vampires also keep journals where we store our random thoughts daily – what else would we do for the one thousand and five hundred years we'll be living?
Oh, right. Of course;
Feeding.
It is, however, important that a vampire's journal never falls into the wrong hands –
the hands of any human.
For if a human lays his hands on a vampire's journal, reads it word for word, until he learns and understands the secrets and knowledge of our kind, of how we feed, he becomes cursed with a blessing.
He. Would. See. Us
For the foul creatures we are.
In our true form,
He would see us.
It's a rather rare gift, don't you think?
––
If the sight of a fully turned werewolf frightens you, the sight of a vampire – in his true form – should drive you insane.
I digress.

---

How do I feed off their fear and memories, you ask?
I will tell you.
When you walk into a room, do you see me, a hideous creature, lurking in the
shadows, in a corner, hissing at you, slithering out of the dark, into the open so you can see me clearly?
Of course, you do.
You just don't remember.
I am always there.
You will see me.
Tonight.
And henceforth.
(You will see me in my true form henceforth because you've read this much. )
You will see me tonight and cringe in disgust – and fear – as you watch me – the foul, hideous, damned creature that I am – crawl to your feet, very weak, very hungry, and very eager. To feed.
I will stretch out my dead, cold, icy white, frail limbs to you and you will help me up to my feet. Eagerly.

---

You will always help me to my feet. Henceforth.
You can't NOT help me.
(Did I forget to mention my eyes are hypnotic?)
Now, in the trance I'll put you in, you will take off your clothes – if you have any on
you – and I will do the same.
Then I will tilt your head down, gently, and slide my forked tongue smoothly, deep into your mouth, down your throat, and draw your very being into mine as you shudder in fear, as your lips tremble ever so softly.
I will bite your lower lip and you will moan in ecstasy. In pain. In... Fear.
And I will feed on that fear.
The blood seeping from your lips into mine will seal our covenant.
I will pull out my tongue from your mouth and trace your soft skin from your chin,
down to your neck, and down to your chest, licking up your salty sweat, snarling softly as your body jerks uncontrollably into wild spasms.

---

––
You will have surrendered your will to me by then.
Your will will be mine to bend, and I sure will bend it.
Bend... you.
Over.
Expertly, you will bend over, and guide me, slowly, inside you,...
You will guide me to enter into you, from between your exposed legs... deep inside
you...
You will cry out in pain, begging me to stroke your thighs, and I will.
Then we will do the needful, exploring the sins of the flesh.
You will know it when I enter you.
And after several minutes, when I finally come out of you, you will know it – you will be bleeding profusely. From between your legs.
And I will feed.
On that blood.
I will slide my forked tongue deep into you.
I. Will. Eat. You. Out.
Gender doesn't matter.
It never does.
After I've fed to my fill, I will spare you a moment to put on your clothes again, then I will draw you to me, roughly, and trace your neck with my tongue, searching, feeling for an artery.
Just an artery.
Just one artery...
It is when I find it that I will sink my fangs deep into the side of your neck, your heart racing, your blood pulsing, your brain pulsating as I rob you of the memory of the sin we will have just committed.
Feeling very satisfied, I will crawl back to my corner where I will become one with the darkness again, leaving you there, defiled, desecrated, standing in the doorway – like you had just entered the room – staring blank into nothingness, feeling an uneasiness that you've forgotten something very important.
Something you shouldn't have forgotten.
Then I will disappear, but not until I've laughed at you who will be thinking so hard, trying so hard to remember a memory you no longer have.
Then I will leave to find another prey.
Another prey.
Another who is reading this journal now.
––
Of course, you might find this hard to believe, that we vampires feed this way, on fear, on memories.
But let me ask you this one question:
Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly forgotten what you came for, or why
you came there in the first place?
.
.
.
Now, you know why.
powered by @abdane