I have lain in this cold crypt for a hundred years, floating in that
dreamland of celestial beauty across the dark shore in that nether
land of the living dead. But suddenly my peace is disturbed, and I
become aware of tiny lives moving around me. It is time for me to
awaken once again an go forth upon the Earth to feed and make
merry. My mind swims into focus once again as the curtains of
my gossamer dreams part, and I become aware of my veiled
surroundings. My body is as dried leather, stiff and unmoving. I
lie waiting for some small vermin or insect to enter my open
mouth so I can devour its life force and gain its power.
There, I can move a bit now. First one tiny feeding and then
another. Now, I am supple enough to reach out and catch them as
they move or hover in the darkness. I am beginning to radiate that
special energy that draws living things to me so that they may
donate their lives to my cause. What is this? Ah, piercing red
eyes in the darkness... A fat rat has come to call upon me at this
midnight hour. I drew it to me. My power grows. The rat fought
back and spit and gnashed its teeth, but it was futile. It was mine
and, it was delicious. The wine of its life has warmed me and has
given me the necessary strength to push aside the heavy lid of my
crypt. I can move now, so I crawl up into the light of the full
moon and bask in those pleasant, alabaster rays, so dear to my
kind.
I can now feel the drum of my heart and hear my footfalls upon the
chilled grass of this place of graves where the Spanish moss hangs
from the trees, and the sounds of the river stir my memories of
days gone by. I must feed. I feel the hot desire, the growing
wanting, the craven need for human blood. I must have it, so I
move toward those sounds of laughter emanating from the
buildings across the road from this park of the dead. I proceed in
their direction, floating upon the mist, unseen and unbidden. Near
the edge of my green domain, I hear the stirrings of that which I
seek. I send out the energy that dulls the senses of my prey, and in
my mind, I can feel their souls relax and their breathing slow.
I see her now, a young woman sitting on a bench just at the edge
of the trees. As I draw near, she swoons, and her fair head falls to
one side, making an inviting target. I float up to her. she is
unaware of my presence, and I take her in my arms. I place my
ruddy lips upon her tender, white throat and feel the excitement in
my canine teeth as they extend, as if they are having an erection.
The tension builds within me, savoring the delight that is to come.
How erotic, this moment! I sink my fangs into her carotid artery
and imbibe that hot, fiery, wine of life. I drink her blood, the elixir
of love and lust for my kind. How good and pleasant it is to feast
upon such a beauty-- a most excellent vintage... How delicate and
fine! I ride her down, feeling her heartbeat echoing inside my
head as it pumps the rich wine of her life into my withered, but
quickly softening veins. I will ride this wench within an instant of
her death, wasting not a drop of her deliciousness, only releasing
her at the moment of her passing to avoid the hammer stroke of
death which is so painful to me.
There, she is done. I can feel the effects already, as her life force is
assimilated by my thirsty body. I still hold her in my arms as a
lover and bride, unwilling to give her up, sapping the last bit of
heat energy from her breast into mine. I lick a small drop of blood
from the hollow of her throat and savor that fleeting memory. A
young man walks by and sees us. He thinks that we are lovers and
avoids gazing too closely at us. Ah, but I am not as yet sated, and
I ponder the possibility of taking him as my next lover... I wait
until he passes and hear the patter of his footsteps diminish before
carrying my prize into the bushes. Here, I will hide her from the
prying eyes of those who would interfere with my nefarious
actions of this night. Normally, I would bury her, but I want this
young man so full of vibrant life and need to pursue him before he
exits the park.
On the mist again, I fly. This time faster as I have gained strength
from my recent feeding. My mind is locked upon his life force
and he cannot hide from me, even in the dark. My feelers seek
him out as they did the tiny insects and vermin within my crypt
when the time to awaken drew near. My, he is luscious, and I
adore him already. My imagination runs wild! My heart beats
faster as I draw nearer to him. I sense his power, and I want it. I
can anticipate him and can already feel him in my arms. I can
taste him in my mind. The very thought of him gives me little
chills at the base of my spine. I love him to death! He is in a
particularly dark section of the woods now, and I swoop down
upon him and wrestle him to the ground, kicking and screaming.
My, he is strong. How he fights me, thrashing about, back and
forth upon the frosty, cold ground. Now, he has wrapped his
strong legs around my body and tries to crush the wind from my
lungs, but I don't breathe any more. It matters not that he doesn't
know. But it is a good thing that I have just recently fed as it is
taking all of my strength to subdue him here on the grass. In any
case, I must use my supernatural powers on him and dull his mind
if I wish to succeed. There, he is ceasing to struggle, his muscles
are going slack. In his eyes, I see abject fear. What does he see in
mine?
He doesn't understand what is happening to him, and he knows not
that in just a few moments, he will cease to exist. But oh, those
few moments! What a powerful life force. I drink it up! He is
calm now, but the powerful beating of his heart fills my dark soul
and hypnotizes me with its steady beat. He is a gusher, and he
feeds me for what seems an eternity before the echo of his valiant
heart begins to still for want of fluid to pump into my hungry
veins. I don't want it to stop! No, no! I began to suck, trying to
get the last dregs from him, and in doing so, I feel the intense
wallop of the hammer of death so powerfully that it almost takes
me with him to the other side. But I pull back and away just in
time to escape death's icy hold upon me.
Ha, ha, I have cheated death again. I have tormented death like a
mongoose torments a snake, knowing that I will always win, for I
am a spawn of the Devil, a child of Satan and Lucifer is my Lord.
The night is mine, and I love it! I am restored to my full potential,
and nothing on this green planet can subdue me. Hail Satan! This
lovely young man has nice clothes of proper cut for the time, and
he won't be needing them. I quickly peel them from his cooling
carcass and dress myself in his finery. They are an excellent fit,
and now I am clothed for any event in this time and place. He has
served me well, even to the point of providing me with a wallet
full of money and an identity for the moment.
I pick him up and carry him to a large crypt that hasn't been
opened in many years. Here, I prize open the door and carry him
in. Next, I return for the female and deposit her next to him on the
floor. Closing the door, I realize what a fine couple they would
make if they still possessed the spark of life. I ponder the hot
desire they would have for one another if they were still corporate
and able to copulate. Well, they won't do it now, even though they
lie there together for all eternity. An interesting thought, that.
My name is Modrin, Lord Modrin, named after the evil son of
King Arthur. In fact, I am Modrin. My father didn't kill me as
was thought, for I already had been brought across. The affair of
us impaling one another upon our lances was but a mere lark, an
inconvenience for me. Arthur, of course died, but in the dark of
night, I slipped from the crypt and gained my freedom to roam the
Earth. Commandeering a stout steed, I rode off into the night and
left Camelot far behind. I took another identity and went about my
business unencumbered by the past. Actually, Arthur did me a
favor by setting me free to ride the wind. But I do not miss him.
But living as one of the undead for three hundred years did tire me
out, and that is why I took a break and sealed myself up in my
crypt to rest for a century. I didn't want to die; I just wanted to
rest. A man, even a powerful vampyre such as I can only live so
long before tiring of the game and wanting to rest. Well, enough
of that. The long sleep and dark, sweet dreams restored me, and
now, well fed, I'm ready to begin my Luciferian affair once again.
A century ago, I had left a fortune in trust for my heirs before I
chose to take the sleep. I now walked into town to check upon my
fortune. By now it should have tripled or more. I found the law
offices of Thurston and Hardy and learned of Hardy's address. I
had chosen an old firm with a long and prosperous family line to
care for my interests. Blood always tells. An hour's walk found
me pounding upon Hardy's door with my stick. His butler opened
the door, ready to shoo me away, but I caught his gaze and took
control of him in an instant. I instructed him, and in moments, I
was in the chambers of Mr. Hardy, the noble lawyer. I explained
who I was and handed him my great signet ring of nine angles,
bearing Arthur's family crest which proved that I was Modrin and
entitled to draw from the family trust. I naturally explained to him
that I had a rare disease and could not tolerate sunlight and would
need to deal with him during the hours of darkness. At first, he
balked, but though better of it when I transfixed him with my gaze.
He was mine now. He now called me master and would do
whatever I bid of him. I took just a tiny sip of his blood to seal the
pact with the Devil and instill in him a fascination with the
darkness and the tiny lives that inhabited it. But enough! I
grabbed some ready cash and quickly disappeared into the night.
Spending one more day in my crypt, sunset found me searching for
rooms. I found just what I wanted a few blocks away in the
French Quarter and made my deal with the landlord. I let a large,
airy house with a cellar that stood on a rise well above the water
level. Here, in that cellar, I dug a new crypt and placed my coffin
into it on a bed of my own grave dirt. Now, I could rest well in my
own chambers away from the prying eyes of the public. My crypt
in the yard of graves, I had sealed up so as not to attract any
attention. It had been there for a century and would always be
there, waiting for me when I wanted it.
The next evening, just at sunset (I'm an early riser), found me
leaving my crypt beneath the wine racks that I engineered to neatly
slide out of the way to allow me entrance and egress while
completely concealing my grave during the daylight hours. I
freshened up, brushed my clothes and headed downtown to the
haberdashers to buy a more complete wardrobe. I found a good
one just closing, and bade the proprietor to linger a while longer
for the reward of a wad of filthy lucre. Money can buy you
anything except dreams. Clothes were no problem. I purchased
good ones. Then I noticed that everyone was riding around in
these new fangled, shiny motor carriages. They seemed so
fashionable, that I bought one for myself and paid one of the
people loitering near the car lot to teach me to drive the machine.
It was easy, and in just a few times around the block, I got the
hang of it, and could drive the machine perfectly. Why not? After
all, my mental abilities and reflexes far exceeded those of any
human. I left the corpse of my hapless instructor in something
called a dumpster and went my way without looking back.
Well, having the basics covered, I conjectured that it was time to
explore this old city called New Orleans to see what had changed
during my absence. You don't suppose that some of my old
friends might still be about, do you? Perhaps Lestat would still be
on the prowl... I cruised the thoroughfares and back streets in my
new convertible to get the feel of the town, and oddly enough,
there were some sections that were still familiar, dating back to the
time of my last visit. Yes, the "Raven" was still there, foreboding
and ugly as it always was, dark and crouching between two larger
buildings like a panther ready to spring upon its prey, fangs bared.
Yes, perhaps, that is why is has remained popular after all of these
years. I crisscrossed the neighborhood, looking to see what was up
and to get my bearings. Then when I felt comfortable with the
surroundings and the escape routs, I parked my new Audi well
away in the shadows of a back street and made my way on foot
back to the tavern, known to the elite few as the Raven.
Entering by the side door, I took an unobtrusive seat at a small
corner table, my back to the walls. From there, I could survey the
room and decide just who was who and what difference they
made. There were a few who were obvious vampyres and proud of
their status, flaunting their personas to the crowd. They were new,
of barely a few years experience or they wouldn't act that way. I
could also tell by the strength of their emanations which were as
marginal as mine are powerful. They sensed me, and kept looking
over their shoulders in my direction-- but not too long.
True, a normal human would be no match for them, but put them
up against one of the old ones like myself, and they would be
sucked dry in an instant. In addition to them, there were some
regular humans, looking for a thrill by tempting fate, or perhaps
they were hoping to be brought across by one of those brash,
young exhibitionists who took an interest in them. Time would
tell. However, it is not wise to have too many of our kind in one
area, as too many missing persons or discovered, bloodless bodies
might alert the flock and bring disaster upon all of us. Who needs
a howling pack of daytime humans with sharpened, wooden stakes
poking their noses into places that don't concern them?
Interesting as all of this was, I was looking for a more mature
breed of vampyre the likes of which, I might have something more
in common, outside of the base need for sustenance in the form of
fresh, hot, human blood. The pickings were slim, but I had all the
time in the world. I decided to wait and see what developed.
Then, about a quarter to nine, the main door opened and with a
flourish there entered Lestat, the one whom I sought. He became
instantly aware of my presence, and homed right in on me. Then,
coming straight toward me, he threw off his coat, removed his hat
and sat down at my table as though nothing unusual had ever
happened, or that a century had passed since our last meeting.
"You are Awakened," he announced, as he signaled the waitress
for a couple of "Type O cocktails," and waited for my reply. "It
was a good sleep," said I with a grin, gazing into his eyes. "I
waited for you," breathed Lestat, as in the past, we had been
lovers. "Has anything changed," I asked? "Of course not, my
dear! I knew you needed a rest and made sure that you were not
disturbed. I've been thinking of taking a rest, myself, but now, I
don't know... What are your intentions?" "Well, Lestat, I just
want to raise Hell with you-- it's been a long time!"
And so it began. We partied the night away, singing, dancing and
sharing the same young fellow who happened our way as two
young lovers sharing an ice cream soda. Then just before dawn,
we returned to my chateaux and slept in the same coffin until
evening-- just like old times! How I enjoyed his alabaster body-- it
had been so long, that I had forgotten the thrill. There was nothing
to compare with it. We made love until the darkness transported
us to the land of the living dead where we dreamed together of
things to come.
We awoke in the early evening and vented our passions upon each
other, once again, taking full measure of our desire, leaving
nothing unravaged. Well why not? Sucking is one of the things
that vampyres do best! We carried on until our appetites got the
better of us, and the need for blood overpowered us. We then
hurriedly dressed and slipped the crypt hand in hand, together.
This time, we took the dark form of bats and soared upon the night
wind over toward the river, hunting our prey. Lestat cautioned me
about harvesting too many persons of noble stature, but that was
all right, as now there were so many homeless persons upon the
streets. No one would miss them, and we could score as many as
we liked as long as we cleaned up the mess afterward. After all,
it's not wise to leave too many drained corpses lying about to
excite a public outcry. No, as long as there was no hard evidence,
no one would suspect or even detect our presence. Besides, these
days, no one really believes in beings such as we. No more being
chased through the night, or waking to someone tampering with
our coffins. Yes, we live in a world that doesn't believe in much of
anything, let alone us. Well what do you expect? Most of the
people of the world don't even believe in Satan...
Yes, what an age in which I now live! Lestat had an ecologically
sound arrangement with the proprietor of a funeral home that
specializes in the disposal human carcasses in their great and
highly efficient crematorium, packaging the resultant ashes in neat
little containers for the relatives of the deceased. Of course, if
those ashes weren't picked up in a certain amount of time, the
management simply tosses those neglected remains in the nearby
landfill. It seems that Lestat had nipped the neck of the proprietor
one night and made him a "Daddy's Ghoul." From then on, he was
ever-so-happy to take our leavings. All we have to do is lure our
prey to our chambers, drain them dry, and then call for our
disposal service. Then Lestat's servant from the crematorium
rushes to claim the bodies for his own uses, whatever they might
be. Quite a little system, that. Does all of this sound too good to
be true? Of course not. Our time has come at last, and because of
disbelief, "The World is Our Oyster."
