Replies: Part 1

It would seem that my blog has garnered some attention, online and off. All seem to be along the same line of questioning, but I will start with my one and only electronic mail thus far. Its subject heading was “Squee!” I have no idea what this actually means. I looked it up and it has no definition. If someone could clarify, I would be most grateful.

First, the entire “e-mail,” and then I shall break it down.

Dear Chuck,

Much love for your blog. I <3 vampires! I hope to become one some day. But what I don’t understand is why a member of the undead would start a blog? I’m an insomniac, so you can call me any time. XXX-XXX-XXXX

Many *HUGS!*
Misguided Bunny

Paragraphs, my dear…Paragraphs. New idea, new paragraph. Not that I’m what some might call a “grammar Nazi,” but it would help you to appear infinitely more intelligent if you were to separate your ideas. (I should talk, with all of my fragments and beginning sentences with a conjunction! Shame on us all, eh?)

Now for the breakdown.

“Dear Chuck,”

Okay…While I have no chance of getting Eddie to alter his habit of calling me by that moniker, I prefer Charles or Charlie. Chuck, Chucky, Big C, or, as a fledgling recently called me, “Yo, C”…They are all out. I am asking politely this time. If I must demand it, you will be most displeased.

“Much love for your blog. I <3 vampires!”

My thanks to Cheryl for clearing this up for me. For the unlife of me, I could not understand how one could “less than three vampires.” I still have much to learn, and that makeshift symbol is meant to be a heart, which in turn means love. Meanwhile, I suppose a kind of thanks is in order.

“I hope to become one some day.”

I sincerely doubt that. The process of becoming a vampyre scars the body, mind, and soul. I’ll get to it later, but this desire of yours certainly confirms the “misguided” part of your signature.

“But what I don’t understand is why a member of the undead would start a blog?”

An excellent question, and the part that requires most of my attention. It would seem Eddie asked something similar, although his exact words were, “Chuck, what the hell are you doing?!?” Cheryl summed it up with, “You’re crazy.” And a phone call from on high warned me to “be very, very careful.”

Meanwhile, I’m doing it simply to have something to do. “Immortal” is a word that is tossed about rather freely amongst the brethren and sisterhood. To be truly immortal is to be incapable of dying. I have already made it very clear that we can, in fact, experience true death. However, we stop aging after the embrace, and the years appear to grow longer during our existence. We need something to do. Collecting holy symbols has its limitations. There are only so many that can be acquired before the well runs dry. What’s more, that particular hobby of mine sometimes costs a great deal of money. But a blog…Here I have something to absorb my time that costs only as much as my Internet connection.

Well, that, and possibly my unlife should I make a mistake. And that’s why I’ve actually been bending some of the facts. My tales thus far, and those that will come in the future, run parallel to the truth. Do you honestly think Eddie’s last name is really Verdone? And Cheryl...I was stuck for making up a last name for her during my writing, and so she is just “Cheryl.” And my name…”Miller” is not only a fake last name, but so common that you could spend a lifetime searching and never find the correct person. When I named Jean-Paul du Lac…Well, he hasn’t used his proper name in centuries, and records (if you can even find them) show he died in 1669. (I only know his original name because it came up in conversation at a gathering in New York in 1967.) The time a mortal would have to invest into the real facts and track us down would, in the end, find someone in their twilight years confronting a powerful travesty of nature.

So, Misguided Bunny, and all others who are wondering what I’m doing, I am merely engaging in a new hobby.

“I’m an insomniac, so you can call me any time. XXX-XXX-XXXX

“Many *HUGS!*
Misguided Bunny”

Oh, you foolish, foolish little girl!

Vampyres are often creatures used to tell tales of horror. Indeed, we can be creatures that instill fear. It is the unknown that creates the most terror, and as creatures of the night, we exist in a realm where shadows hide many secrets. Sometimes, however, what is known can be even more terrifying.

I was kind and deleted your phone number for this very pubic post. I did so because, given the same resources that I have, a mere mortal could turn your life into a nightmare. As it is, imagine what a vampyre could do!

Oh, let’s not leave it to your imagination. Allow me to share what mine can do.

We establish contact, and for three months we get to know each other well. Correction: I get to know you well, while you buy into every fabrication with which I can come up. I make a call, give my three reasons for wanting to make you my sireling, and I agree to make your desire to become a vampyre a reality.

But why share this information with you. Everyone loves surprises, right?

Because of the resources at my fingertips, I already know all there is to know about your family. Like the handgun your father has, and his license to carry a concealed weapon. I already know your address, thanks to a few keystrokes on this marvelous computer of mine. I also know who lives at your home, and I assure you that your beloved little sister will be vital to your dreams.

My first step will be to make it impossible for anyone to make a call out of your home. The landline from your house, as well as every cell phone for 500 yards, will be useless. Will I sneak or barge in deep in the night? Oh, let’s have some fun and smash the front door off its hinges. Wake the whole family and have them wonder who might be so brazen.

Daddy comes running down the stairs, gun in hand, and, when he sees me, empties his Remington (silly James Bond fan) into my chest. I take the gun from him, removing a finger in the process, and lodge the weapon inside his head through the top of his skull. It would take little effort on my part to accomplish this much, and what will likely upset me most is that the hole where his finger used to be has pumped blood onto my $3,000 suit. (I own nothing that costs less than that.)

What a shame…Mommy has seen the whole thing. Well, we can’t have her screaming the way she is, so I extend all of my teeth and tear out most of her throat. Should she reach the Gates of Heaven, she can explain that her presence is due to her daughter’s inexplicable love of the unnatural.

Hmmm…Who’s left? Ah, yes! You and your darling little sister. At her tender age of 12, she’s likely still a virgin, and…Yes, I can smell it on her. That innocence! Oh, it is so sweet! While you cower in your room, trying desperately to figure out why your cell phone isn’t working, I find and forcefully escort your sister to where you are.

Now is the time for the classic monologue of the villain. “My dear, dear Misguided Bunny,” I begin, “here, at last, is where your dream of joining us comes true. So far, it has only cost you a set of parents. Now, unfortunately, it will also cost you a sister. You see, the embrace requires the blood of a virgin. It’s as close to purity as a mortal can get, and I must take in as much as I can and let my own essence corrupt it. The ritual of binding the pure with the impure is vital to the process. It only takes a few seconds for her blood to become properly tainted, and then I give it all back to you. It will be similar to the bite I give her, but it’s a reversal of the flow, forcing her altered blood into your body. When I am done, you will experience what we call a living death. For some, it is only mildly uncomfortable. For others, it is quite painful. For most, it’s somewhere in between.”

Then, whether or not you have changed your mind, I embrace you. As you are taken by the throes of living death, you catch glimpses of your sister on the floor, too weak to do anything but stare at the ceiling. She’s not dead. Not yet. A couple of weeks in a hospital and numerous transfusions, and she’ll be fine…provided she’s found soon enough.

Of course, you won’t be there to watch her recover, if she ever does. No, you and I must leave the scene as swiftly as possible, and get back to a safe house until we can catch a night flight the next day back to CA. You will never, ever be able to see her again. Any attempt to do so – to reattach yourself to your old life – will complicate things for our community, and likely lead to a sentence of final dawn. No more sunrises. No more sunsets. Do you enjoy food? You can forget that aspect of mortal life, because you will be on a diet that strictly consists of blood…

But this is imagination at play, dear Bunny. I refuse to prey on the young, and an adult virgin is a rarity. It’s why I have yet to have a sireling of my own. Besides, I would much rather keep you as a fan.

There is, of course, one thing about the above fantasy that truly bothers me. Imagine the true horror of ruining a $3,000 suit!