It's such a fascinating fantasy to imagine what I would be like as a vampire. For so long, there was only the concept of the 'evil' vampire, always from the human perspective of some sweet and innocent victim. But of course, most vampires would have more respect for human life than to steal the life of the pure of heart. There's no denying survival would be all-important, but every caution possible would be taken with choice of prey.
I don't think I'd mind the actual bloodsucking for as a human I'm a bit of a glutton, and somehow I don't think I'd lose the enthusiasm for a good feast! However, I imagine hunting might get wearisome at times, if there was a long search with little results. But I'd be practical. I'd make myself a warm blooded mammal 'critter' farm, so that would make it easier. Oh, yes, and I wouldn't turn down the occasional 'evil doer'. One would need a BIG MEAL every once in a while.
I'd want those closest to me to be turned. I've already lost one spouse to death, and it's hard.
I rage against death, so if it were in my power to do so, I wouldn't want to lose any more.
I rather like this age I've come to as a human, the 'middle ages'. I am still reasonably attractive, but the years have given me some sense. There's a power that comes with middle age for a woman. Bringing this into the immortal life would make for a rich perspective, I'm certain.
I'd love the heightened senses. I don't think we'd be able to fly as some speculative fiction would have us, but I'm certain various powers of mind could be developed, such as telepathy, and influence over the weaker mortal's minds. However I have a theory about the 'magical blood'. I believe vampires would come into being without supernatural causes. The magical blood would contain microscopic beings that need a host body to maintain them. In exchange for their chance to exist, they'd travel through out the bloodstream doing repair work on all our cells, thereby maintaining the state at which we were turned.
One of the most pleasurable things about the long life would be watching the span of history evolve. As I'm interested in the arts, I'd do my part to perserve beautiful works of all types of art against whatever crazy things humans might do. For instance, just imagine if back when the library of Alexandria was burnt, some vampire had copies of all the works, so nothing be lost to stupidity. He could make copies and save them to share in a less insane human era.
Yes, the vampiric life would definitely have its fascinations. Am I daring enough to hope to meet any nice vamps out there? Skepticism of such things brings a cautious approach. Still, the wild heart can dream.
He followed her links, which led to a fascinating website. She had an openness of heart, that suggested just possibly she could open to a one on one conversation. But he found himself clumsy as how to start. ''I love what you've written here,'' he began, and thought that over-simple. No gilded tongue, he felt artless, and just gave up, and simply said, ''I want to meet you,''
''Yes,'' she said in response. She simply said 'yes'. For that, he'd journey through the snow in bare feet, over rough mountains in bare feet, with the biting wind at his back, he'd journey. But, instead, he'd just have to plan a nighttime trip by bus, from here to there, from there to there, and then there to there, and he'd avoid the miserable sun's danger. It would take an ordinary mortal one bus ride. Unless, he could simply cover himself well with blankets while the bus traveled via daylight. Such a hassle, it was. And yet he'd 'journey through the snow in bare feet'. ''Ah, quit yer griping, Michael. Here's possibly a chance. What are you going to do with your centuries? Do you REALLY want more of the same numbing sameness?''
So he bought his ticket, and he boarded that bus, lugging all his worldly possessions with him, as he'd always done. Once in the bus, he could feel the humming vibration from the wheels as they rolled him to his destination. ''Wheels, take me there, wheels, lead me away from my past. Carry me to this new place, where I shall try to live as a man. My days of being a ghost must end, or . . .
. . . how soon would it take me to burn and be no more a ghost? It is this, LIVE OR DIE! No more this between-place. ROLL, mighty wheels, carry me to hope . . .
. . . carry me to hope.''
Soon, nights of open eyed dreaming, and days of blanket-covered slumber, ''Who thinks we need covered vaults such as caskets? No more 'living-death' for me!'' were over, and the bus rolled into her town's station. Gratefully, the bus HAD arrived at night, and he silently grabbed his possessions and slipped off into that night.
Tomorrow, he'd see her, tomorrow he'd know. ''Tomorrow,'' his heart hummed.
Go to Chapter 10, Not Lost, But Found
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