Darkness
After that, the Darkness befriended me, and it missed me when I was gone. It was as if we had crossed an unspoken barrier, crossing over boundaries that neither of us knew existed. It was like cheating on the lesbian landlord, the virgin cheating on the property of the goddess.
If I was no longer a virgin, I must have moved up to that of a goddess, but I was not looking for witchcraft titles, as it was my vampire nature that took precedence in most societies. Why bother with titles when it can merely be accepted that there are creatures of the night? Why try to fight it or label it?
The lesbian landlord may have kicked me out, but the Darkness had sided with me after becoming intimate with me. The lesbian landlord said she had wanted me to leave as her girlfriend was coming to town, secretly wanting to rent it out, but the Darkness had another surprise for her vulgar display of power. The darkness would not allow for another tenant to take my place.
Casey and Adam’s friends may have moved into the main house, but they proved to be useless tenants, leaving within a month or two. Travis had also decided to leave, and my apartment, the studio remained empty for well over a year after my departure. At least the Darkness was faithful to what we had shared.
Now with Keyser, things were different. Somehow he had expected me to be something that I was not. He wanted to control me and beat me down, but the power of the Darkness still inside me would not let him.
Even before he attacked me at knife point, things were getting bad. There were brief good times, too, don’t get me wrong, but the ugly was rearing its head in tiny amounts, at least enough to have put me on guard. Though the seas seemed to be fine, there was a rather large storm brewing on the horizon.
When Keyser, “the Devil,” seemed to be normal, he was harboring much anger, which was confirmed by Eric, our mutual roommate and head honcho of the house. After being neglected and seeing enough rude comments and enduring the situations, I was urged to take a stance. How could a girl let a guy keep her down?
This was the power that the Darkness had given to me, the power to not take shit from a mere guy. What good was a guy to a virgin, one who was not supposed to bear children? If vampires were not to have babies, then really, why take shit from any guy?
In the first display, I showed Eric alone, as Keyser was more interested in seeing other girls than observing my power. Andie and Michael had invited us over, and there was going to be a bloodletting. It was one of the few glimpses Eric had into the play habits of vampires.
In their Decateur apartment, directly across from The Abby, we played with shadows and suffocation. Gas masks with control valves for air intake, rubber and latex, blood was drawn and squirted over the room. Gathered into goblets, we vampires feasted as Eric watched in horror.
Intoxicated with fresh liquid blood, we used the excess to draw on the walls and floors, painting on each other as if with tribal war paint, then licking it off with excessive pleasure. Needles pierced through skin, eight needles poking through a breast, with chains adding weight for added torture. Through all the pain, there were smiles of ecstasy and pleasures.
Eric had not known what to think, watching our private show with a dropped jaw and silence. Fangs were not hidden, rather extended in plain view and hissing. Nails ripped through flesh, tearing worse than needles.
This detailed the bondage, the aspect of living that merged pleasure and pain. For ecstasy to truly be known, it must be taken in whole, as a complete circle of both the good and bad. Life is merely an unending cycle.
Kevin for Dinner
Again and again, I would find comfort, only to be displaced. Keyser at first comforted me, then he pushed me away. To prove my point to him, I mustered strength.
I had a meeting of the minds, inviting Travis, my Brazilian friend and Kevin Bond over for dinner one evening. It was to prove the point that I was not merely reliant upon him, Keyser. There were other tricks up my sleeve.
Intentionally, it had not all started out that way, but that’s the point that was had at the end, even if I was puking in the toilet by the end of it. It was all Kevin’s fault, really. All the mustered strength, I got from him.
He seemed to have known that I was having a bad day, and he invited me to join him for a day of adventure, doing absolutely nothing in particular, to which I agreed. Picking me up at the house, we drove to the Quarter, joking about times of the past. It took us a while to decide where to pass time at, but we soon settled on agreement of the R Bar on Royal.
Making a few passes to find a place to park the car, we wound up on Esplanade under a large oak tree. As soon as we stepped foot out of the car, the scenery seemed to change. As if we had entered a time warp, things appeared to be from a different era.
He opened the car door for me, but when I stepped out of the car, it was really a horse-drawn carriage. Grabbing my hand like a proper lady, I shuffled my gown to the side and stepped out on to the cobblestone path. Arm and arm we walked, as if a proper Victorian couple.
Buildings looked newer. The air seemed fresher, and the plants seemed to be thriving with life. As we walked, people smiled and waved, wishing us to have a good day.
Other horses trotted along the streets, buggies filled with passengers. The clomping of hooves on the pavement lessened as they passed by. As one carriage stopped, I could hear a horse whinny.
Guiding my every step, I felt safe with Kevin, as if I knew that he would not let anything happen to me as long as I was with him. Steadily, we ambled down the street, not being rushed by time. Together, we had all the time in the world.
Rounding the corner of Royal, the pub became clearer, etched out in iron. Cobblestones turned to brick on the roadway; this I noticed as we sauntered. The sun shined and the birds chirped.
Opening the door to the R Bar was like entering another vortex. Besides the bartender, we were the only people in the place, unless you count the skeletons. “That’s my favorite part of the bar,” I mused.
A band played on the ceiling, upside down, all skeleton band members. Another skeleton rode a Harley, and others merely looked on. A legend rumored that the place was haunted.
Kevin’s hair was long and wrapped into dreds. Tattoos covered his body, extending down his arms and calves visibly. My eyes focused on the flaming pentagram on his hand.
My velvet dress was accented by black fishnets and black paten leather six-inch heels. The long blonde hair of my head contrasted his in a complimentary manner. Both of us wore glasses.
He ordered us a round of drinks. I heard the jingle of the door open. “Now there’s a couple that looks like they belong together,” I heard a thick Brazilian accent.
Hoping out of my seat, I said hello, exchanged a hug and made introductions. Next, I was given directions to smoke a peace offering of a joint in a few moments. Instructing me to wait just a bit, Kevin and I stepped out onto the sidewalk to join in the smoking of a joint.
Not trying to hide it, we looked as if we were having a conversation about something down the street. At least, that’s most likely what the average person passing by would have thought. It had not really occurred to any of us not to smoke a joint in public, as the most obvious was often the least expected.
Puffing on the joint, the Brazilian nodded and restated, “you two really do look good together. You have the same kind of style and image; perhaps it’s because you’re both very powerful vampires. What a team the two of you would make.”
Blushing, I turned my head sheepishly. It was too early for those sorts of suggestions. The thought had not even passed my mind.
Really, I had only wanted to be shown around, nothing funny or sexual, but the mere suggestion brought up the bad memories of Keyser. Kevin knew nothing of Keyser, and I did not feel it was important to bring up. I did not want to think of those things.
He knew something was amiss, that much I could not hide from Kevin. When the Brazilian parted ways with us, leaving us back to the vortex of a bar known as the R Bar, Kevin nodded as to such. He could tell I was weak, that I had been worn down to a state that was not normally my own.
“This bar is one place to hide from the sun, but let’s go out and have some real fun. What do you say?” Kevin looked at me with the twinkle of a challenge in his eyes.
“Okay,” I smiled graciously as he took my hand to stand up. He showed me the art of hunting in the day, feeding off of life. In a crowd of people, such as at the French Market, nobody would miss a person or two, or even notice that we were doing anything more than seemingly whispering into someone’s ear.
Bite and go. Quickly, just enough to keep the motion flowing. Get the taste and run.
Go up and ask someone directions. Smile and nod. Reach out quickly and strike.
Flirt and get someone close enough. Lure them in with your eyes. Breathe down the neck and bite.
“Don’t be afraid to bite,” Kevin insisted, “especially when somebody deserves it. Don’t think twice about what ifs and feel even a twinge of sympathy. If you want to give them sympathy, then be quick in your attack; bite and go before anyone realizes what happened, and let them think it was a knick from shaving.”
Like a cat, be graceful, and always land on your feet. No matter what the surprise angle you seem to be falling from, have the poise to land properly. Be sleek and be independent.
By the time night rolled around, my head was dizzy with intoxication. The desire for dinner came at suggestion, and I invited over my motley crew. Keyser was ordered to cook for us all.
Time passed, and even Athena made an appearance. As more time passed, we all parted ways. The dinner had been in celebration of Travis’ birthday, November third.
Finding ourselves alone again, Kevin stood to leave. I could feel fear creeping as I knew that he was leaving. Somehow, I knew that things would not be right.
Kevin could feel the tension in the air, and he advised me to stay strong, even offering me some of his own blood in case of battle. I needed to follow his advice however and stay independent. There was power inside of me.
Soon there would be a battle that I would have to face alone, another challenge of sorts. Keyser would test to see my reaction. Kevin knew I would soon be leaving.
Though neither of us wanted to say anything, I knew I would be leaving, too. Time was moving towards inevitable, and I would have to face the choices of the past. This would be the evaluation of my lessons.
Kevin offered for me to stay with him, offering his hand of protective services, swearing that everything would be great. Flashes of a happy family filled my brain for a moment, then I laughed hysterically. I had seen him in action, and to him I was still an underling.
Why, again and again, must I prove my ability to have it evaluated? Powerful vampires like Kevin call out the beast within, just to make sure that it had not fallen asleep or became dormant. When called, the beast growls.
Kevin wanted me to growl. He wanted me to take a stance and show resistance. He had offered for me to take that stance with him, but I got scared; I admit.
Two vampires merging souls might be too powerful a force, I think for a minute. Then long red curly hair, my fingers twirling it, fills my thoughts. Two New Orleans people I knew had a birthday on November third, but one was out of town to California.
Sleepiness filled my brain, and for the first time, I slept in my own bed, not with Keyser. That was the first step of my stance. The second step came in the form of a phone ringing.
The boy I had met wearing a towel was calling, telling me he was on his way over. I needed to be awake, he insisted. Truth was that I needed to feel loved.
It’s not right to have sex for the first time with someone in a situation where you are feeling weak. When feeling down in the dumps, however, sex with a trusted, tried and true partner could be quite healing. About that time, I could use all the healing I could handle.
“No,” I whined at first, having a guilty conscious about being in Keyser’s bed only the night before. Thoughts flooded my head with reality, the bad that was setting in. Still, I resisted.
When his lips touched my neck, Jason calmed my tension. “You know you’re beautiful, right? Just gorgeous…”
His caressing hands explored my body, as if to seek out any areas of discomfort in order to ease the pain. The idea of Keyser slowly filtered away from me. I had to let myself know that it was finally over, that the spell had been broken over me.
As Jason’s hard cock entered inside of me, I realized that there were better things than Keyser. Some people just naturally worked well together. While Keyser and I worked, Jason and I were simply amazing.
Bringing back Brad
When two people come together sexually, it’s like a key entering a lock. Sometimes, a key can enter a lock and work, but when the right key is used, there is such ease in the turning and unlocking process. With me, Jason was more like a locksmith.
It just felt right; not just right, but better. He tore his wrist and held it to my lips. How could I resist an offering that was flowing? The simple act gave me strength, and he showed me that some things I should not face alone.
Other things, like an attack from Keyser, would have to be faced one on one. There was nothing that could be done to prepare for such an action. Everyone seemed to try to be giving me strength, but I did not know why until it happened.
Jason and Kevin were helping me stand on my own, rely only upon myself to seek out my own pleasures and survival, but somebody else also served as a guiding light, Brad. He came back into the picture a few weeks after I left with Matt at the Johnny Sketch show. Originally his suggestion to go to the Gathering, he also attended the show in Vermont, though Elizabeth and I never ran into him there.
Perhaps it was boredom that made me call him originally. I wanted somebody to go out with to a movie, somebody to help me pass the time of a snoring evening. When I called him, he agreed and was anxious to go with me.
Even before Keyser showed up in the picture, Brad offered for me to live with him, but something would not let me. It was like a magnetic force that pushed me away from him, as if we were too alike. Positive is attracted to negative, not positive.
From the sidelines, he watched over me, inviting me for random distractions, such as attending MOM’s Ball for Halloween. Dressing up like a bottle of Jack Daniels, he was eager to see me dressed head to toe in paten leather as a seductive witch. Keyser escorted me to that event with Brad, but we had a fabulous time.
Though he longed to be a pimp mack daddy of a vampire, Brad simply had trouble pulling it off. He had the manners and gestures, for the most part, but the grace was like that of a cat stuck in a ball of yarn. When he’d try a sly move, it would somehow just get tangled up around his feet.
I had to give him credit, as he was one of the few vampires I had met of his caliber. For the most part, he gave up and allowed himself to be engulfed by music and other such distractions, still getting victims, just not being on the sly. More people gave him offerings of blood, as to him having to go out and be a hunter.
Perhaps Brad was like a house cat, used to having food brought to him. Sure, he had the killer instinct and could strike, especially when provoked, but so many people knew and accepted what he was that he could survive just on those who gave to him freely. When he really could not get fresh blood, he stuck out from other vampires in the fact that he would feed off of nature.
It was like a vegetarian vampire, which was something I had not very often encountered. His skills of absorbing energy were great, something he showed me over time. Merely standing in a crowd at a concert, he could grow more powerful, but he could also stand out in a storm and grow stronger, which was a weird concept to me.
Sure, he would do blood, whenever he could actually, but he just was not as much of a hunter as others I had met. It was like her preferred to survive on the excess energy of nature, and he showed me how to live without blood, supporting the theories I had been finding on my own. He showed me that I did not even need my black jacket to absorb the energy of pain, that my body could just be like a sponge to absorb energy from my surroundings.
There was something strange about his style of life. In some ways, he was powerful and strong, but in other ways, he was like a child. As I got to know him more, he confessed that his transformation into a creature of night had not actually been from an auto accident.
When he was 12, he had his brush with death. Just short of puberty was when he actually made the choice to dwell at night with the blood suckers. He had been in a coma when he made his choice, and when he woke up, he had to learn to live, breathe and walk again, just like a baby.
He had confessed that that car accident occurred after he had made the choice to live, as the accident was really a test of his immortality. Sad and feeling blue, he stepped out in front of a car. The memory was still much like a dream, hazy when he thought about it.
Sure, he lived through it, though very uncomfortably. They gave him vampire blood through transfusion to try to make him stronger, but he had brought the pain upon himself. Vampires did not heal automatically as some myths suggest.
Life was not taken from him so easily, but he had the war wounds to show from it even still. He should have died, as any normal person would never have been able to survive such an accident, but he didn’t. Now, he had to live the rest of his time with the everyday reminder from it, as if someone would not let him forget.
Though suicide should still be an option, and it is, for vampires, Brad just did not go about it properly. Since he has learned the ways to be able to die on command, but he really wanted to know if he could die like a normal mortal. No, he would just be hurt badly, which would require a bit of recovery time.
A Suicide note
Written in October 2005
A person always has the right to end his or her life; it is the ultimate example of free will, as mentioned in the Bible. Most people think of free will as pertaining to simple choices, being good or bad. Taken to the extreme, free will is the choice to live or die.
In researching crime and punishment, what is the punishment that should be given for suicide? Can a punishment be given? Is suicide the punishment itself (as some Bible-pushers insist it is the biggest sin, resulting in a one-way ticket to hell)?
Many deem suicide as not a wise choice in most circumstances; some, like Dr. Jack Kevorkian, are sympathetic to life situations, such as a terminal illness. Others use suicide as a threat, seeking attention. However, if one is determined, all too often warning signs are not evident until it is too late.
The biggest "will" on earth is the will to live. If that will is lost, death occurs, sometimes as a suicide, even as a "mysterious death." Free will includes the will to live. If people are given free will, then suicide is always an option.
Many may not like the fact that suicide is an option, but there are many aspects to freedom that many do not like, such as the freedom to print material that may offend others. That is the beauty of freedom though, the option to offend. Without it, and actually without the option of suicide, the world would be one sadly "too perfect" place.
In the balance of yin and yang, chaos is needed to produce Harmony. As quoted from "Vanilla Sky," "without the bitter, the sweet is not as sweet." Outcasts, mad men and vigilantes are often the inventors that move forward technology, hated one minute, then a hero the next.
Many may not like the option of suicide, but it should always be an option. In life, all things happen for a reason; what we see as tragedy may serve as an impacting life lesson for somebody else, such as a drug addict watching a close friend overdose, serving as a cause to break the addiction cycle. One suicide may cause another to not kill themselves after watching the agony of loved ones over the first suicide.
Think of a forest fire; without destruction, there could not be new growth. In zen philosophy, there is mention of reincarnation. Perhaps the end is really only the beginning.
Borrow a Toothbrush
In the vampire state, you choose to live on for some purpose. Sometimes, the purpose is really more of an outside suggestion. Really, you think that you’ve made the choice to live, but it was helped by the power of someone else’s will.
It was not until I returned home that I learned that I had made my first vampire, Dye. My will helped her find the power to choose to live. Fortunately, my will was strengthened by the will of others around her.
The forcing of your will onto others and situations, voodoo as some call it, comes in many more forms than is obvious to the average eye. Be it a love spell, chanting for money or a simple mantra for peace, the deflection of energy onto other things is one form of voodoo. Of course, it can also be physical.
For example, take Genifur, my celestial sister. When she had heard that Kesyer was treating me bad, she wanted to do her part in helping out how in any way she could. Physically comforting me, keeping me company and hearing out the situation as a friend, was one nice way of doing just that.
Genifur, however, has a much darker side to her than just that. As she stood in my living room, listening to the latest update of the situation, she insisted that we should go out somewhere and have a fun time. Even if it was to someone’s house, she simply wanted to have a good time.
As I made a phone call, she asked if she could use the restroom. Upon confirmation of our destination, I phoned for a cab. Assuming she merely wanted to get ready, I heard her yell out to me, “which toothbrush belongs to Keyser?”
“The brown one,” I answered mindlessly while trying to align transportation for us. I heard her brushing her teeth, but I thought nothing of it. Dental hygiene is understandable and important.
Within moments the cab pulled up out front and beeped its horn for us. Gathering our things, we rushed outside and into the cab. “To the corner of Kentucky and Poland, please,” I ordered.
When we arrived at the house, I instantly felt at peace. Inside, I pointed out a picture of herself to Genifur that was hanging on the wall. I had told her about it before, but she had tried to say that she did not know of its existence.
“Oh yeah,” she smirked. “I’ve been here before. It’s been a while though.”
Conversation was struck about her former visits to the house with another roommate. Blood was dished out for enjoyment, flowing plentifully. Jokes and massages passed the time.
“Can I take a bath?” Genifur made herself at home, drawing up a bubbly bath for relaxing comfort. I took the opportunity of her distraction to say goodbye to our host, as I would soon be leaving town.
“I missed you,” I whispered, pushing the freckled shoulders back onto the couch. Running my fingers though his curly red hair, I bit on his ear and made him squirm. His reaction made me laugh.
“Why did you miss me?” He bit at my neck lovingly, playfully. “Why would you miss someone like me?”
“I don’t know, I just do. I can’t explain why, so don’t make me try.” Our lips met in a loving lock.
The exchange of fluid gave him strength, and he pushed me back, becoming more the aggressor. “Don’t you realize how beautiful you are?” His strong hand grasped the inside of my thigh.
By the amused look in his eye, I could tell he liked my stockings. Like a cat with string, he pulled at my holed black thigh highs. Shaking his head, he looked as if he could not believe I was there with him.
My fingers trailed down to his pants, fumbling with his button. When it popped, I yanked the zipper down, then looked up at him and smiled, as if suggesting that he guessed what was on my mind. I could hear Genifur splashing around in the bathroom tub.
His hard cock could be felt through his pants, even before I pulled them down. He looked at me as if with a challenge, then smiled. Hands fumbled with my skirt, hiking it up, and my panties were removed, finding a new home on the floor.
Before I could make a move, his face was buried in my twat. Laying back onto the mass of pillows, I moaned with pleasure. His hands toyed with my rings as he munched merrily, making the experience all the better.
I was like a toy for him, one he forgot he had. By the smiles that crossed his face, you could tell he liked to find my buttons, figuring out which ones made me squirm, moan and giggle. As he ate me out, he tested the buttons he had found in the past while we had been playing together.
Bringing me to orgasm was not a challenge for him, and he commented on how wet I got. Wanting to taste for myself, I reefed him up to kiss me. He was right; I tasted good.
With my nails digging slightly into his flesh, hands massaging my way down his body, I climbed on top of him and down to his hard cock. The sight of it was one that I had missed. My mouth could not wait to engulf it.
One hand massaging the cheek of his ass and the other embracing his nuts, I sucked down to the base again and again, trying to deep throat as much as I could. The act of sucking his cock was actually making me more wet, as I could feel it dripping down between my thighs. He must have sensed it, too.
Before I could even get him off, he shoved me back onto the pillows, taking my by surprise. Kissing me as he entered me, his cock and my vagina collided passionately. Again and again, he went straight for my g-spot, knowing how to get me off.
Wanting to scream out, I tried muffling my screams by turning my head into a pillow. I don’t think I was that successful, especially when climax came on a mutual basis. So eager, my body went into numbing convulsions, and I bit into his neck as he bit into mine.
Blood flowing as semen pumped, I could feel my vaginal walls constricting repeatedly. My fingers ran through his long red hair, with my nails finding their way down to the flesh. For a few moments, I could not move or even speak.
We laid in an embrace. Peacefulness washed over me utterly. The only thing that mattered was that he was there with me, body to body.
Eventually, the spell was broken, as I heard Genifur still splashing in the tub. The sound of water reminded me that I had water inside me that needed to be released. “Excuse me for a moment; I have to go pee real quick.”
Sneaking towards the bathroom, I called out to Genifur, asking if I could join her. “Come on it,” she said. “I’m just taking a bath.”
“Good, ‘cause I really gotta piss.” I plopped down on the seat of the toilet, unashamed to let the urine flow in front of her. “Isn’t it comforting to bathe here?”
“It really is,” she agreed. “It sounds like you were doing some comforting of your own out there though. I heard your little muffled moans.”
“Sorry abut that,” I said sheepishly. With a wad of toilet paper, I went to wipe myself, then stopped, as I felt something missing. “Holy shit,” I whispered.
Discarding the used toilet paper in the toilet, my fingers flipped through the rings: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9… One was missing. The newest one was gone, and I could feel a flap from where the ten-gage ring had been pulled through the flesh of my vaginal wall.
“Can you look at something for me? I think I’m missing a ring. Will you just look and tell me if I am?”
“Bring your pussy over here,” Genifur laughed. “Of course I’ll look at your twat for you, you Cunt. Where does it seem to be missing from?”
Standing up, I flushed the toilet, then walked by the tub. Spreading my legs so she could see clearly, my fingers pushed aside the still swollen lips of my twat. “Should be the very back one, the one through the taint, all the way at the bottom.”
“Oh shit, Girl,” she stammered in horror. “Your shit’s like flapped open. There’s no replacing that.”
“It’s gone?” I still did not want to believe it. “Does it look bad?”
“There’s a little bit of blood down there, actually. Does it hurt? I don’t even think you can re-pierce that.”
“Now that I know it’s gone, I think I can start to feel it.” I could feel my body tremble slightly. “I think I need to go sit down,” I muttered.
“I’ll be right out,” Genifur answered. Turning my back to her, I mindlessly washed my hands in the sink. I could see her standing up naked by her reflection in the mirror.
Tossing her a towel, I went back to the couch. “Are you okay? You look extremely pale...”
“No,” I curled up to him. “I mean I am okay, but just a little shocked right now. I just found out that I lost a piercing.”
“A piercing? Which one; down there? Just now?”
“I just noticed it was gone, so yeah,” I mustered to explain. “It stood up to me crowd surfing spread eagle during Kid Rock, but it decides to come out now. I guess this marks the beginning of the end; the piercings are going to start coming out instead of going in.”
Little could be said to comfort me, as what really could be done? As I sat mute, still shocked, Genifur emerged from the bath. Momentarily, she joined me on the couch.
Nodding over, she commented, “look at him. He’s absolutely glowing because of you. You make him feel like some kind of stud, and you can tell just by looking at him.”
As if to allow me time to lick my wounds, Genifur asked for a tour of the house. The two of them disappeared for a time. I had no clue what was going on, but I heard giggles as if it were a good time.
My mood, however, was deflated. I needed to go home. The most comfort was here, at the house I sat in at that moment, but I needed to be alone in my own space.
When we parted ways, I gave him a kiss and a hug. It would be the last time of our intimacy together. Sadly, I was losing my master.
My fingers clenched onto his red hair. Longing even before I left, I did not want to forget him or all that he had done for me. My master was releasing me out into the wild, free to be a master of my own.
Genifer joined me back at my house, where we curled up on the couch. Like two snakes intertwined, she warmed me and protected me. It was only then, at that point, that she revealed a little mystery to me.
“You know I’m slowly dying right?” She asked me in an extremely serious manner. I lifted an eyebrow to her.
“We’re all dying. It’s one of those things that cannot be avoided. Death is coming for all of us, getting closer with each breath we take.”
“Yeah, but I brought mine upon myself,” she sighed. “Somewhere along the lines of all the tattoos I’ve gotten, I’ve contracted Hepatitis C. That’s why I asked to use Keyser’s toothbrush earlier.”
Dime has Died
Vampires could catch diseases and die like mortal humans? If a vampire could catch a blood-borne pathogen, then wasn’t it a tad dangerous to go around sucking blood these days? Was this another reason to learn to live without blood?
Truly, what nourishes me could destroy me. It just did not seem right. What about the theories of the immortals?
One powerful vampire put it into perspective for me. Just before I left town, Brad escorted me around to do the final things I longed to do in New Orleans, such as trying lunch at Liuzza’s. As a final farewell, he took me to the Murder Junkies show at the Hi-Ho lounge, where I ran into Jimmy Bowers and his girlfriend Dani.
Gracious as always Dani greeted me with a smile, and Jimmy gave me a hug. By this time, the prospect of leaving had become eminent, and I was on my way out of town. Jimmy explained a way to become immortal.
“If the history is written down, then nobody forgets. You enlighten new people who may not have known that it ever existed. The written word truly transforms even everyday people into the immortal.”
He sighed, “we’re all growing older, and soon death will come. Even for us, it is inevitable, but I wish there could be a book written before the end. I mean, besides people in the hardcore scene and those who live down here, who would really know of my band Eyehategod?”
He made his point by using the Murder Junkies as an example. Their former frontman G. G. Allen was one vampire who proved that suicide is always an option, even threatening to kill himself on stage, and he was a powerful vampire. Breaking all rules of cuthe, he would snatch victims from the audience, letting blood flow on stage for more than shock value.
In the end, however, death won his abundance. His strength and power did not matter. When it was time, when his mission was complete, when he had done mostly all that he could do to be remembered, death came swiftly, even before he had planned.
The Murder Junkies live on, giving him strength after death. Still, they promote his antics, snatching victims from the audience, having a room covered in blood by the end of their set, but G. G. Allen is only with them in spirit. A psychic vampire, G. G. Allen grows stronger with every show they play, each time he is remembered, still sucking off the audience, only living off of energy instead of blood.
Even vampires had a purpose, a guide to life. Growing immortal, if even for a short time after death, that distinguishes the truly powerful vampires. To do it again and again marks the unending cycle.
When I escaped after the attack from Keyser, Brad picked me up, but Elizabeth was my savior. Count on a girl to protect a girl more than a guy, there just seems to be some comfort in that. Even she was with me when he had heard the news.
We had driven to Florida. Though Brad had driven me less than a week before, he insisted that I come back, only for me to be attacked by Keyser. Never go back.
I should have listened to my instincts to simply leave, but Brad insisted that I could not just leave all my belongings behind. Why not? I could always buy more.
As it was, Keyser had already stolen the black coat that absorbed pain. He needed all the pain he could get. I only wish somebody could give him quite a bit more.
Sure, I paid for Brad to drive me down to Florida, making sure he had all his meals, even letting him stay at the Coconut House mansion, driving around in a limo to the county fair just for kicks. However, he claimed to have fallen in love, and he threatened me with suicide. He wanted me to go back to New Orleans.
When I did, the attack happened. Though he came to pick me up, he could not protect me from the environment that we all knew was dangerous. Only Elizabeth could.
Offering up everything I had, she agreed to take me to Florida. On the way, a hotel room was bought for us by a friend who I had met on tour, Kelso. Somehow, I always seemed to be protected.
As the three of us sat there, joking and catching up on past times, Kelso got a phone call from Blue, another girl from tour. She was hysterical and said to turn on the television, giving us a run-down before the news could. Dimebag Darrel was shot and killed, along with other people at a show in Columbus, Ohio.
Drowning Pool had called it, something bad was going to happen on the tour. One very strong vampire was killed as a mortal human. All the blood in the world could not help save him, and neither could the energy from a crowd while being from a position on stage. From Damage Plan to Pantera, one vampire would be entirely missed.
Could he live on after death? By god, he did. Even to this day, Pepper Keenan plays a song in his honor called “In The Arms Of God.”
Many others continue to remember, with signs, statements and even “R.I.P. Dimebag” carved into guitars. You can tell the true strength of a vampire after his body expires. How long can one live on, surviving merely off of the energy and thoughts of others?
Ramada 1115 and 1114
Written in November 2004 after being attacked and before leaving with Elizabeth
I sit in a hotel that I have visited before. Last time I was here, I stayed next door, sharing a wall with the location of my prior expedition. Neither time I requested the location, the area called to me; New Orleans can be strange like that.
Why was I called here? It could be remnant of a lingering spirit, perhaps one like Elvis. Uncertainty consumes me with the thought, but a bulge in the wall, with a shape similar to a casket, fires my insight.
Stepping into the bathroom, flashes of a slippery floor make my feet want to slide from underneath me, though the liquid has a thicker viscosity than water. Plum red pools lake the floor, with splashes dripping from the tile walls.
Blood smears the left corner of the top of the toilet. Sink faucet, crimson coloring the white porcelain surrounding. Splatter remains on the wall, next to the shattered mirror of the medicine cabinet.
A chill runs down my spine as a dark shadow passes through me, pulling the crumbled body from the tub, lugging the hefty mass into the closet, struggling for as little a maroon trail as possible.
Suds fill the bathroom as brushes scrub away red DNA, leaving the room as if nothing had occurred. Rust drips into the toilet and sink, while mold grows in between the cracks of tiles, bringing the room back to present day age.
Another chill shudders my body as I close my eyes to adjust to the changes. What had happened? What had really happened? What made me come back to this exact location?
1:18 p.m. November 28, 2005
Written December 23, 2004
It’s the day before Christmas Eve, and it’s becoming more and more of a reality that I soon must whore myself. There is no other way I can think of to keep money flowing in my direction to pay the bills. It is not something I want to do.
I guess it’s a matter of facing one’s fears. There are so many bills and people I owe money to – not for drugs or anything – merely living is expensive. Perhaps I am too much of a Princess, having grown accustomed to the nicer things in life, but now I must pay the price.
I have been accused of being selfish, even by the guy on a three-day crack binge who attacked me with a knife. I still believe that love does not exist, merely people who want things from each other. Men step up to say kind words, some even with their wallets, but they only want sex. How pricey is such an act?
I am worried, and I am scared. What if I get a disease? What about all the morals I’ve learned in my life? What else can I do? Desperate times call for desperate measures.
The ones who wish to marry me only want to get me in the sack. The frustrate me and have led me into this position, hoping I run to them for comfort that cannot be given.
My tears have been shed; I can no longer cry. Only biding my time, lingering and waiting while others dine fine. Who can I call out to? Would anyone have ears for my concern anyway?
I can only call for advice from some who have been in worse positions than my own. Perhaps they will share insight, guiding me like a star. Perhaps they will offer nothing but condolences.
What scares me the most? The fear of disease? The reality of rape? The possibility of pregnancy?
Asking my closest friends for help has only led me to this position. My parents are sick of saving me, and favors have dissipated long before. I really hate having to be a whore.
I guess I have been treated like an escort in the past, probably worse. As I scroll through my phone book, names of pimps fill my eyes. Men have treated me bad for years, since I was six years of age, like the girl whose birthday is today.
At least I will get paid to put up with their shit, and I do not have to call them back. Being a bitch is expected; it’s almost a turn-on in fact.
Though I am miserable, I can find glee at the thought of money, the bills it will pay for me. I cannot waste on the side of the road. I must succeed. Sometimes success requires doing things we’re not proud of, and I will not be proud of this.
Unfortunately, it takes money to make money, and my life has required this bit in it. I hope at least I can be on my own and not owe anyone anything after a while.
SHOULD BLACK WIDOW
TRY ESCORTING
Or
RUN AWAY TO THE CARNIVAL with Cosmo Kid
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Email: thorisaz@hotmail.com
