Tales of the Vampire

This is the series of shorts about the vampire currently known as Michael. I will begin writing this man’s life story probably in five or ten years. I t will be a long series of books about this man, the only vampire ever to live, only he has lived for over 10,000 years! My intention now is to create the character and write these shorts from his life, to develop him and his story, his life and to get an idea of how the books will run. I hope that when I sit down to write these books in the future, I will have a welcoming collection of these shorts that I will be able to use to give fodder to the books I will write. I will soon have a page up on the site, dedicated solely to this, and while these shorts will continue to be shown on the “Stream of Consciousness” page, an archive of all shorts relating to this vampire will be collected on the aforementioned page.

Tales of the Vampire I:
Discovery
February 18th, 2007

He was the first vampire of our time, and the last vampire to live. He was the only vampire ever to exist. While his birth and creation were an event in the dark distance of time many thousands of years before, when humans were but simple hominid creatures crawling the earth, he’d lived for a long time and experienced much. This is his story, from the beginning until his long and eventual end. In the year 2007, his current name is Michael.

Michael sat at his large mahogany desk. It was completely clean except for the old book he was reading on medieval epic poetry. He was currently working his way through Song of Roland, where the main character – Roland, naturally – had just blown on his mighty horn with all his strength for the second time, and in so doing blown his brains bursting from his ears, for the second time. That was the thing with a lot of these medieval epics, you didn’t look for accuracy; you looked at the story, at the whole, and took from it what you could, knowing that the writer or orator was simply trying to captivate his audience, and what captivated an audience better than your protagonist blowing his brains out on his horn, trying to summon Charlemagne to help him.

Surrounding Michael were large book shelves reaching high to the ceiling. They formed to semicircular alcoves in the room. The desk sat in the middle, looking out of an enormous bay window at the crashing and roaring sea on the beach below the cliff. Behind the desk was the door leading out of the library. There was a golden ladder attached to each of the alcoves, on a track, so it was possible to reach the books way up on the top shelves. Apart from a powerful overhead light, there was nothing else in the room in regards to furniture.

Apart from the book, there was another item on the desk, a cordless phone, and it was at that moment that it began to ring. Michael immediately picked it up, expecting the call.

“Hello? Ah yes, I’ve been waiting to hear from you . . . you have . . . that is excellent news. No keep it safe and secure, as I explained to you. No, no one else is to touch the chest and by no means attempt to open it. Yes, just follow my instructions. I will be on the next plane out. Thank you for the good news and have a good day.”

Michael pressed the off switch, then he pressed the on switch and dialed three numbers, putting him through to his servant on the ground floor of his mansion in a quiet spot on the Mendocino coast.

“Yes, Charles, please book me on the next available flight to London at your earliest convenience. Thank you.”

Michael turned off the phone and returned to Roland blowing out his brains and slaying enemies left and right, carving people and horses in half.

Three days later, local time, he was sitting on a very comfortable couch of the best suite in the best hotel in Mayfair. Before him was an ancient looking trunk that was still in one solid piece. He had expected no less, since he’d been instrumental in its construction and had made sure, centuries ago, that it could not be penetrated.

Pulling the thin gold necklace from beneath his Armani shirt, he gripped the iron key, lifting the necklace off his head. It had been a very long time since he’d done this. The key fit the solid padlock, securing the chest. It took some strength to turn, but it finally clicked into place and the lock popped open.

Michael soon had the lid open and gazed on the piles of books inside, all with clear leather-bound plain covers. He took out the top one, wiped any dirt from it and turned to the first page inside where he read a language that no other person on the planet could read, except he. That was because he had invented it himself long ago. Remembering the order he organized the books when he’d placed them in this chest, he knew this was the first journal documenting his life.

He began reading of his early existence some ten thousand years ago.

Tales of the Vampire II:
Harold
February 25th, 2007

The man known as Michael many centuries in the future was known as Harold in the mid fourteenth century. He was currently living in the large and growing city of York in the north of England. A few months ago word had come of a devastating sickness rampaging through Europe, wiping out towns and villages without mercy. It wasn’t long after that they were calling it full-blown plague, a pandemic, God’s scourge that would wipe out mankind. Harold didn’t think it would come to that, but he was sure to keep his ear on the ground and have his contacts in England and on the main keep him informed of what was going on.

Part of him was wondering how strong this sickness was. As a vampire, he had a superior immune system that was able to thwart most diseases and infections, but something that was this new and unknown might be a test for him. While it might not kill, it might leave him so debilitated that he would be unable to feed and then he would die of starvation.

Another part of him was also wondering about the decreasing food supply. The advantage of living in a large city was that he could feed off of so many people, with only few dying, and no one being the wiser. But he knew that once the plague started ravaging the English people, he would need to find new places and people to feed from. The cities, especially the large ones, like London, Leeds, Durham and York would be hit hardest first. And if the reports were correct he would be looking at an astronomically high mortality rate.

Then his contacts on the mainland started turning silent, one by one, as the plague made its way west to the coast of France. He knew it would be little time now, as the infected fled for their lives in ships across the channel. Word of the arrival of the plague in England reached him just a few days before his contacts in the south of the country started dying.

Soon people started leaving York, and Harold knew he had to do something quickly. Engorging himself for a full night, he fled before dawn into the countryside heading west, far west, by horse. Reaching the coast a few days later, he fed on some sailors and a prostitute, then took one of the last ships to Ireland. The Irish had come over to destroy the ships and prevent the infected from reaching their country. Harold made it onto one of the last Irish ships by first seducing and then feeding on the captain, making him his for the time being. Upon reaching Ireland, he fed off the captain for the last time and then headed further west until he reached the distant coast and the roaring of the cold Atlantic.

Beyond that he knew there was not much, but in his lifetime he had lived with the Viking peoples of the north and knew of a great landmass of ice, and further beyond that an even greater landmass that was thought to be an enormous continent. The Vikings who’d lived there for some years had never returned, and none had followed in their footsteps. It was assumed, Harold had been told, that the native peoples had killed all the Vikings living there.

He knew if all his options ran out, he might just have to find a way to make it to this distant and mysterious land.

While the plague had reached Ireland, it had done so in a very minor form and was contained to the eastern reaches of the country, never making it near the west coast. Harold was safe from the plague, but had to travel from town to town because of the low populations. Needing to feed of one person per day at least, he knew he couldn’t feed off too many before people would begin to notice. And this was a world where magic and fairytales, devils and demons were still very much of the cultural life and not just myth and story from history.

Harold slowly made his way east now, as the plague disappeared from the country. Eventually he made it back to York some years later, the town now growing in populous city once more, its low numbers steadily increasing. Soon it would be normal again.

But Harold had learned from this plague, should something like it ever strike again. In his lifetime, he’d seen different kinds of plagues, and while this had been the most devastating, he’d still survived it. His first order of business was to set up new contacts in England and on the mainland.

Tales of the Vampire III:
The Companion
May 20th, 2007

The first companion I took was after half a millennium of my existence, give or take a decade or three. She was young, about thirteen years in age; startlingly beautiful. A Celtic woman, an important member of the tribe, being now of marriageable and child bearing age; strong ice-blue eyes with long raven hair and porcelain skin. It was in the south of a country that would one day come to be known as France.

I know not what compelled me to take a companion. I'd lived alone since my creation for what many would consider a significantly long time, over many generations. So why did I require some company now? As I said, I didn't know. Perhaps it was some deep genetic reaction within me, a turning on of a crucial dormant gene, much like a cat knows to chase and catch mice and other small rodents without being taught to. With this thought in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if I were doing this with malicious intent or for another more respectable reason. As I said, I knew not, but I was certainly wondering.

He came to her in the dark of night, early in the morning. She was alone in the hut made of sticks, straw, and dung. He slipped past the animal skin covering the doorway and approached her on her bed of furs. She looked peaceful, rested, content, sleeping on her side with her hands under her head. It was ideal really, I thought, with the sweeping nape of her soft neck fully exposed. Her body was covered up to her shoulder with a thick bear fur.

I reached and snagged the end of the thick fur covering her, pulling on it until it slipped and slither from her curvy form like an undulating snake. She stirred a little at the new cold, her body breaking out in goose pimples, but did not awake. I admired her beautiful form, her body full-formed and voluptuous. But this was not a sexual urge I felt within me; I knew this as I stared at her. But my reason for existence was not for procreation as is the case for every other living on this planet. I don't know why I was created, why I'm alive, but I knew as I looked down on one of the most beautiful creatures I'd ever seen, that it had nothing to do with lust or sexual urges.

With my tall, thin form, I crawled onto the furs and formed a tunnel over her, then let the furs covering my body rest lightly on her skin, covering and warming her. Her breath calmed once more and she was in deep sleep again. My head was a little above hers, telling me she was a tall woman. I craned my neck down, opened my mouth, feeling my canines growing as the special hidden muscles within my upper jaw did their work. I took a breath, my heart running fast, as this was the first time I'd done something like this, trusting my bodily instincts, even though I didn't know what I was going to do or what was going to happen next.

My teeth sunk into her flesh smoothly, with no obstruction from her skin. There was an immediate reaction from her body, as it stiffened and writhed beneath me, then stopped for two seconds, then I felt the woman reacting in a pleasurable way, moaning, turning, wrapping her arms and legs around me until she was hanging from me. It was then that I felt the hot irritating pulse on the side of my neck. Not knowing what my body was doing, I opened my mouth and disconnected from her neck, watching as a trail of fresh rosy blood dribbled down her white throat. Then I pushed my neck onto her mouth, feeling her hot wet breath on his throat. She immediately reacted, biting into my artery, liberating my pulsing blood which began running down her throat.

I'll admit I felt an inkling of fear at this, feeling slightly helpless and under someone or something else's control for the first time. But then the moment was over and I felt myself pulling away from her. She swallowed and licked her lips, apparently happy with the amount of my blood she'd received. I felt the wound miraculously closing on my neck until there was little more than a minute itching. I reached up and touched completely healed skin.

It was then that I looked down at the woman who was now looking directly at me with her ice-blue eyes. She was now mine. This I just knew.

Tales of the Vampire IV:
The End of the Companion
June 17th , 2007

She never left my side and we were together many years. As I said, I never felt any sexual need for her, however I was fully complete in human anatomy, and it was she who demanded I satisfy her in this way. I’ll admit I felt a little guilty in this, wondering if this was her true desire, or merely part of the spell she had been put under when I drank of her and she drank of me.

We traveled the lands, seeing much of the world. I learned her language and taught her the many I knew, as well as imparting as much knowledge on to her as I knew. I started to wonder if I had made her the way she was as company for myself. While I didn’t necessarily feel the sense of loneliness, I will freely admit that having her around made my life a lot more enjoyable.

It was not until the end that I realized how close I had grown to her, our feelings for each other transcending that of lovers and companions to those who could not live without each other. This unstoppable feeling of dependency was unsettling to me, but I was unable to stop it or do anything about it.

It was in a small fishing village along the European coast – a village that would one day be known as the thriving and alive city of Amsterdam in the distant future – that things took a great turn for the worse. We were staying at an inn and, having been together for some years, the curious stares from innkeepers and other people about our particular relationship had stopped. Though inn and innkeeper may be a stretched term here, since these specific institutions would not officially exist for some time. This was more a collection of huts where I paid the chief with goods and we were allowed to occupy one for a night. It made things very easy when I knew so many languages and was able to communicate with just about anyone. If it was language I didn’t know, I would soon learn it with my thirst for knowledge and my apparent innate ability at absorbing details and words.

I left my companion in the hut to rest after an active bout of lovemaking to search for food. It was twilight and I was enjoying the cooling night air. I headed into a nearby forest, walking a few steps in then stopping and listening. I soon heard movement with my advanced hearing, focusing in on the sound with my eyes, then seeing the moving deer. Slowly taking out my knife, I began to pursue it soundlessly. When I was close enough, I charged, and just as the animal reacted and turned to flee, I launched myself and landed on its back, burying the knife strong and deep into its chest and obliterating the heart. The animal was soon dead and I trussed it up and threw it on my shoulders.

I returned to the collection of huts, and wondered why people were outside watching me as I returned to my particular hut. Then I saw the skin covering the doorway had been torn off. I shook off the deer and ran in to find my companion lying on the bed of furs where I’d left her just a short while before. Her throat had been fully slit completely around and her life blood had poured out onto the furs. She had died only recently, I could tell, and if I were to touch her, I would find her body still warm.

It was then that I saw the man in the shadows who came out to attack me. He sliced at me with a blade that cut across my chest, as I jumped back, but still suffered a serious wound. My blade was out and we sparred, our knives clashing and flickering in the night and the fire. But I was by far a more experience warrior and took obvious pleasure when my enemy realized this. I stabbed deep, stopping him, making him drop his blade. Then I performed the same crippling wound on him as he had on my companion, leaving him to slowly die.

I had already recognized him as one of the men from the original tribe where I had converted and taken my companion. I wondered if this man was her brother, or perhaps her betrothed. I looked to my companion and felt a deep growing pain that wanted to pull me down deep into the earth. I could take it no longer and left.

I walked for days until I dropped with exhaustion. When I’d recovered I fed on another human, not looking to make them a companion, just needing to feed with the most nutritious blood in existence.

It was a very long time before I took another companion.