The day to come

The fluttering, chirping noise of bats wake me from my slumber. As my eyes slowly open, I turn off my alarm and think: Maybe this is the day.

With creaking bones, I get out of the bed. Yes, a bed, not a coffin. I may be old, but being conservative and being a masochist are two completely different things. I mean… what kind of madman ever thought that we should consider exchanging cushy pillows for an airless, stinky wooden box?

I draw the curtains and take a peak. It’s dark outside, but in the distance, I can see a dying arrow of the sun, slowly ducking behind some hill of nowhere. This sight tends to stay with me throughout the day: a grim reminder of the fact, that even in eternity, things always remain in motion.

I light a candle, and let its trembling light guide me downstairs. I could of course use a phone as well, but that would be way less cool. I prefer certain things to be like they were in the old days (with the exception of the coffin for bed exchange, of course).

I step over the bodies of my fellow kind, lying around. There are just so many of them, I can’t even count. One might say I am kind enough to let them in, while others may argue I was forced to do so. Doesn’t matter, they’re here now. I just wonder when one will stumble upon that little hidden door behind the bookcase. I take a glance, but it seems like no one has noticed yet.

I can’t just stand around, I got to go. I step outside on the streets, and as always, the smell of rotting, burning flesh fills the back of my throat. The poor devils who are not fortunate enough to take shelter are still recovering from the burns the sun endured. Shaking from the pain and hunger, they curl up and look within. I can’t imagine what they could find there, other than despair.

I walk past them, as I always do. It’s funny how you can get used to the worst possible versions of reality. The upside is, that there is not much lower form of existence, at least not that I could imagine.

This sight frustrates me more than it usually does. I sometimes remember the days when we were powerful, mighty creatures, full of mystery and elegance. And now? Now I am going to the freakin’ dentist.

It’s no joke. These canine teeth are ridiculously large, and at some point in time, they've begun pressing on the "normal ones". As if they were trying to squeeze out even that tiny resemblance of humanity I once had. It’s painful, and not just from a spiritual, sentimental perspective. It truly hurts every time I chew.

Luckily the dentist is almost as old as me. He has been pulling teeth since the 12^th century, so he has some experience. Although, I recently learned that he started out as an enthusiastic amateur, doing that for fun, and only studied the actual art behind his craft a few hundred years ago. Some may call him sadist, but I’d like to think that he is just a natural.

My concern is a bit simpler: I know one too many vampires with dentures. Sure, you get to choose the size and color, but I feel like that’s a stigma that’s kind of hard to wash away. With that in mind, I’d really be happy to keep everything I have at the place, where they are currently located.

I end up being fortunate enough for him to see me off with a few strokes at my jaw. The pain that follows is strong enough to overcome anything I felt before I was foolish enough to decide that paying him a visit is a good idea. Told you he is good.

On my way back home, I take a little detour to the market. Seeing the town square, memories suddenly rush at me again. I remember running through the woods, chasing down humans to draw their delicious, warm, fresh, nutritious blood. The taste is still on my lips. I remember their horror, the fear… and my disgust. The disgust towards them, towards myself, and the never-ending hunger for more, the hunger that does not sleep and which can never fully be satisfied. I remember their bodies running dry, bloodless, grey skins, and the groans as they turn into a monster… like me.

The more you drink, the stronger you become. The more you drink, the less food that there is to come. That’s a harsh lesson we have all learned.

It began with the Lord imposing restrictions: one human per day for each vampire. Even that wasn’t enough, so it soon became a human a week. Then a human a month. And now… vampires are lucky if they get their hands on any humans at all.

Of course there were those who didn’t obey. Who said, to hell with it, what could they do? It’s true, we cannot be killed, but that doesn’t mean we cannot be disposed of. Most who defy the Lord are shred to a billion pieces and then scattered in the seas. I can’t imagine how, but it is said that even then, their consciousness remains. The pain is constant and immeasurable, but they cannot die. I’ve known those who tried to take their own lives and ended up that way. That’s a state that’s hard to come back from, although it’s not without precedent either. I guess that’s also the state I’ll end up in eventually, should anyone find that little bookshelf of mine.

Then there were those who thought they should give it a try with animals. Dogs, wolves, bears, foxes, sheep… their blood was far from being as good as humans, but at least they were something. On the other hand, once turned, they became vicious, immortal monsters incapable of any self-control. Handling them has become one of our top priorities.

I mean… what can you do with creatures who cannot die? Sure, shredding and scattering their remains is a temporary solution. I say temporary, because once you understand eternity, you understand that if something may happen, then it will. And that’s a certainty.

The problem is, that with no one dying, there’s just simply too many of us. As long as there are still humans and animals, we’ll hunt them down, and our numbers will grow. No one will think twice to drain a human instead of enduring starvation.

We could of course wipe out everything. That’s a step we are not yet ready for, and we may never be.

So, what do we do? With vampires unable to find shelter throughout the day, the planet being overcrowded, our scientists have shot a few of us into space to find another world to conquer. If you ask me, it’s just a pathetic attempt to pretend like we’re trying. Here or there, it doesn’t matter. Eternity, remember? We’ll devour the entire world. It doesn’t matter if it’s a day, a week, a year or a millennium. It’s going to happen. It is certainty.

Unless this is the day.

I shake my head. Hope is the worst of all evils. I mean, look at this, this is what we eat. What even is this? It’s green, and it seems to be moving in that plastic bag. I’m told it’s prepared using healthy, natural ingredients only, and it has everything our bodies need. Well, given that our bodies don’t need anything in particular to survive, this statement seems to be false in more than one way. And also, what is natural ingredient? I am just checking to make sure I am not eating the remains of a fellow vampire. I wouldn’t want to be turned to a living shit either.

At some point in time you learn not to ask too many questions. So, I just grab my food and start walking home.

Home.

It was once my home. Now I am not even sure if I can call it that. I just know I used to live there with her.

Her.

I have a painting of her hanging over the wall over my bed. Still, for the life of me I can’t recall her name. I can’t remember her voice or smell either. I wonder if my love for her will fade away as well. Eternity puts us all to such cruel tests.

She’s long gone now, and I’m honestly glad. She is better off leaving this world as an angel, rather than becoming this sick joke of a creature. I touch her face on the canvas. Even as a painting, her face has more life in it, than in my grey, scarred hands.

The nights are quite short this time of year, and I can feel the sun is about to rise. I draw my curtains and lock the door. It’s a little routine I've begun and I've kept with it for who knows how long. Others may joke if they saw, but I don’t care.

I kneel down by the bed and start praying.

First, I pray for the souls of the forgotten. Those, who have been turned and are unable to fade away. Especially for those, who have been turned, without them harming anyone. I am not like them. I have my own castle and room because I ate people. I deserve no mercy. Any thought of mercy wasted on me, should be given to those who are in fact innocent.

I pray for the world to be strong enough to hold us, and to resist us. I pray for it to overcome the endless waves of attacks we make at its existence. I still hope there are creatures out there, living things deserving life.

I then pray for the humans. The humans, who I know are still out there somewhere. I hope that someone or something will guide their paths, guide them to a better world. A world without the likes of me.

I pray that no one finds my secret door. Noone opens it. Noone walks down to the basement. Noone lays eyes on the man and women there. Noone finds the children hiding there.

Please God give me strength not to hurt them. Please let me be strong enough to resist the hunger.

They will be found eventually. Eternity knows no mercy. Please let me be strong enough to resist until that day comes.

Please let me do this one thing for her.

It is said in the Bible that one day, Jesus will come. He’ll descend from the Heavens, resurrect the dead, and will bring an eternal kingdom with justice for all.

I pray for that day to come. And every night I fall asleep the thought pierces through my bloodless heart: What if the day has already come?