Do Ends Justify Means for We Vampires? | Bitten Then Written Story
It's a question every vamp has to come to terms with.
I get it. You see the fangs, you assume the worst. But what if I told you some of us find the whole neck-biting thing… deeply awkward?
Welcome to Bitten Then Written, my desperate attempt at vampire-human relations. These words are to prove not all of us want to eat you, while convincing my fellow night-dwellers that my dietary “choices” shouldn’t make me a total outcast anymore.
One day, I came across a woman who claimed to be a Voodoo mystic.
She went by the name Madame X. Surrounded by the wonders and sacraments of her trade, she sat in her little shop and passed out her trinkets to her customers while giving them little bits of advice and premonitions she felt were real.
Now, I’m not one to fall for that kind of hokum. I’ve lived enough centuries to know when I see real magic, and she had none of it. But, sometimes it’s interesting to see what “the other side” has to say about the ways of the world.
You see, I had just recently, at the time of meeting this strange woman with her perfumes and patchouli surrounding her, come to terms with the fact I hate feasting on people. It’s a hard time in a vampire’s life, you know? Trying to find a space for a little humanity when that thing is stripped away is difficult, at best, and most of us would just rather not think about that kind of thing.
Still, I’d been wrestling with that little conundrum for some time, and thought, if I was to really get an answer that worked, it would be interesting to ask a person like this.
I had not even sought her out myself. Instead, one of my minions—Krag, I think it was—brought her to my attention. He apparently went into her shop to find some spices his gal enjoyed and thought the mystic would make an enjoyable meal. After all, she had to be well-flavored, being amid all the finery and scents.
Krag always worried for me, the dear thing. I miss him terribly.
Conscience-wrestling though I was, I thought I would go pay the woman a visit and made my way to her shop after dark.
I think she must have had at least a little experience dealing with we other-alived. She recognized me for what I was before she even saw a tooth and, surprisingly, had no fear of me. I have to admit I was grateful for that. It can sometimes get tiring seeing people flee once they realize who we are.
The thrill of the chase isn’t for everyone.
Anyway, she sat motionless in her immense chair on the other side of the table while I took the one across from her, only nodding when I asked if she was, indeed, Madame X.
She loosened up a bit once she came to understand I wasn’t there to feed.
I opened up to her about the problem I was having, and the answers she gave have actually stuck with me in the years since.
“There’s one thing you have to learn. You have to stop being afraid of it.”
When I admitted I did, in reality, like my lot in unlife, she pointed at my chest.
“You may like it now, but you’ll learn to love it later.”
It’s been a few decades since that meeting, and I am still, I suppose, waiting to have that love.
It’s not that I’m dissatisfied, though there are times you, my fellow creatures of the night, don’t understand me, much to my own chagrin. That’s why I started writing these journals and put them out for all of you.
It’s that I still don’t entirely understand what the end might look like for me. I know other vampires believe the ends justify the means when it comes to the treatment of our food and our placement above them in the chain of life.
Maybe, like Madam X said, I really am still afraid of what I am.
Perhaps there was indeed, a tad of magic in that woman, after all.
Bitten Then Written is the undead blog of a vampire who’s decided public relations is harder than resurrection.
He’s trying to convince humans they’re not all monsters, and his own kind that abstaining from the all-you-can-eat-human-buffet isn’t treason. It’s part memoir, part desperate plea for understanding, and a full-time rebellion against a very, very bite-forward culture.
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Guys With Stakes and Chips on Their Shoulders | Bitten Then Written Story
Stakes! How passé! Can’t they think of better things to work through their personal problems than stick a splinter in and call it a day?
Wild, uncivilized cretins, all.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. It makes sense vampires would have problems too!