A Walk Amongst Monsters

The festival of Samhain, celebrated the end of summer as well as the ascendence of deceased loved ones to the afterlife. Celebrants would dress as animals or monstrous creatures to scare off evil spirits. 2000 years later, we mark the occasion every October 31, now called Halloween, by dressing in costumes and begging for candy. Whichever version of the holiday suits you the best is up to you, but I love it all the same. 

My name is Albert Lambert. I was born in the small village of Nurembeck in what is now Belgium, in the year 1634. The first 40 or so years of my life were unremarkable, outside of a chance encounter with a stranger one night which left a permanent impression on me. And so for the last 350 years I have been apart of the eternal fraternity of Vampires. 

It may seem a bit on the nose for a vampire to love Halloween. I can assure you I am not alone in this affection. All vampires love Halloween, not for the candy mind you, although the blood on this night is particularly sweet and indulgent. No, we love it because it’s the one night a year we can walk amongst the humans without ridicule, judgement, or harassment. Personally, it is the one time of year I can walk hand in hand with my daughter and feel safe. 

Before we go further, let’s clear up some details about my kind. Vampirism is not magical or a curse, it is a form of blood poisoning. Its origins are unclear but once the blood has been exposed to the pathogen, a full body mutation occurs. The individual ceases being genetically a human, and starts anew as a “vampire”. This mutation in the blood affords us a great many advantages. Increased strength and quickened mobility can be expected. We have accelerated cellular regeneration, in short we are able to heal incredibly quickly. This can explain the misrepresentation of vampires being immortal. We can and do die, but as humans can be lucky to live to 100 it is not uncommon for a vampire to live beyond the age of 1000. Our bodies breakdown just the same as humans, albeit at a much slower rate. This healing ability also makes us semi-impervious to most maladies and physical impalements.  

We do have one big weakness and that is sunlight or any form of UV light. The ultra-violet rays kill the contagion in our blood which makes us who we are. And as the contagion and our bodies have a working symbiotic relationship, killing one will kill the other. It is not instantaneous, like in the movies. The time it takes to kill is dependent on intensity of the light and duration of exposure. But it is safe to say that a vampire caught in the daylight will burn rather quickly and could die within a matter of hours. 

You can forget any other form of vampire defenses such as garlic, Christian iconography, silver of any kind, invitation or refusal of such into a house, killing the “head” vampire, or stake through the heart. These are all human inventions for storytelling purposes. Although a stake in the heart could kill a vampire just not for any mystical reasons, its just a stake through the heart. This is something to remember, there is nothing magical about vampires, our condition is biological. 

We cannot change our appearance, or transmute in any way. What has occurred initially is selected mutations. Our skin takes on a pale, grey-ish blue tone, not unlike a corpse, though not decayed in anyway. A boost in blood volume has inflated our veins so that they are more visible than humans. Also the eyes lose any distinct color and turn black, while the blood vessels are more prominent, giving us evil looking eyes of black and read. Each vampire may experience distinct physical changes all their own - eg. nose and ear deformity, fingernail growth, hair loss, enflamed lips, fat and tissue loss. I was afflicted with much of these. My fingers are grotesquely long with thick nails. My nose and ears extend out to a point. Once blessed with silken black hair, I am left with a barren sickly looking skull. 

The growing of fangs is universal and essential to our survival. They do not retract as in say snakes. They function similarly, acting as a hypodermic needle to inject or siphon, but once they come in they are in, they protrude and are very noticeable. Mine for instance, force my upper lips to bulge out and prevent my mouth from fully closing. 

For all of these reasons, our appearance is the handicap we must live with. For millennia, we were regarded as freaks, outcasts, diseased, demons, and monsters. We were forced to live isolated outside of city walls. The population unaware of who or what we are thought we looked sickly enough to persecute all the same. Truth be told, we have been responsible for much bloodshed over the years. Humans may see it as vicious bloodlust, but we see it as hunting for food not sport. It wasn’t until Bram Stoker and the publishing of Dracula that our reputation took on the more modern legend. We have always and will continue to need to consume blood for sustenance, although modern science has made a synthetic option available. But we are not the monsters Stoker makes us out to be. No more than humans who carry out violent, malicious acts. Most are peaceful but others can be unpredictable and dangerous. 

The popularity of Dracula in its many forms and iterations throughout the 20th century, saw vampires being a mainstay costume come Halloween. In a strange set of events, after millennia of hiding we are finally gifted one night a year to walk amongst the humans in total anonymity. More often than not, we get praised for the attention to detail we put into our look. Most vampires take advantage of this holiday from hiding. Some take part in the costume du jour of whatever pop culture dictates, others go as they are and enjoy the freedom of walking in public. When Grace, my daughter, and I would go out, I lean into the vampire and dress as the Bella Lugosi version of Dracula. A personal favorite of the interpretations, a classic is a classic for a reason.

It was difficult for Grace, growing up with a vampire for a father. I am not her biological father. I found her when she was about 6 or 7. Sometime in the mid 1980s I was going through an angry phase of my life. It happens, from time to time. We live in such persecution that we become the monsters society has made us out to be. I found a camp in the remote forest of Canada. It was more of a compound, occupied by one of those religious cults that starts off weird and harmless, but morphs into a violent, sadistic, sex cult, with the sole leader acting as god, father, and husband to all congregants. They had reached the more-guns-than-food stage. Those that made it to this stage existed in a purgatory of pain and despair when I arrived. I made my way through the camp, feeding as I saw fit, liberating most that wished for the nightmare to end. 

When i came upon Grace, she was lying in a make shift bed in the house of their leader. I couldn’t tell if she was supposed to be a daughter or a wife, I think she was used as both. When i came in, she wasn’t scared. She didn’t run or cower from this monster covered in blood. She had shared a bed and her body with the devil, I was nothing scary. In that moment, I found what humanity was left in me. I looked at the blood on my hands and the child staring up at me, and decided we had both lived in hell long enough. I offered my hand, telling her we were getting out of here, and without hesitation she placed her tiny fragile hand in mine. I covered her up and we left the camp. 

I tempered my feeding and stuck mostly to animals until I was able to find a more sustainable situation. We traveled most of the time. Never staying in one place for too long. My many centuries on this planet has awarded me with a sizable stash of money, houses, and acquaintances throughout the world. I wish I could say we shared many adventures together traveling the world as vampire and daughter, but sadly no. A vampire traveling with a human child attracted a lot of attention from both sides of the evolutionary line, so we had to keep moving in secret. We landed in some safe havens for a time, mostly castles, country homes, large manors and estates acquired centuries ago by my brethren. They were occupied by fellow vampires who very lovingly took in Grace as their own. There was brief talk of turning her, but I put a stop to that immediately. This girl had suffered enough why increase that suffering by making her physically unable to interact with the world. I would never want her to feel the persecution and hate we feel simply because of our appearance. We are not recognized as vampires, that is left to fiction, we are singled out by our deformities. 

She was never want of anything. I had more money than anyone could spend in several lifetimes. Having lived through a large chunk of history, I was able to educate her in all areas of study. But what I was unable to provide was friends, other human interactions. Sure, there were other vampires to be with, but we aren’t the same, she needed exposure to her own kind. She knew she wouldn’t be able to attend a normal school, or be invited to birthday parties. What fear and hate was laid on me would fall on her as well.

It was sometime around her 10th or 11th birthday. She could have anything, but what she wanted was to go to a carnival. Like any doting father, I wanted to give my little girl the world. We were living outside of Philadelphia at the time. There was a church carnival not too far. I put on a large coat with high collar, and a large brimmed hat, and did my best with make-up. Truth be told, I may have done more to draw attention to myself. 

She indulged in all the fried and sugary delights; cotton candy, funnel cakes, candy apples, popcorn, fried Oreos. We played games, like squinting water in a clown’s mouth to win a plush toy. We even found one where the person had to throw baseballs at the face of a cartoon Dracula, we skipped that one. Most of all she wanted to ride the Ferris Wheel. It would be the first carnival ride from both of us, and for a while it would be the last. 

We boarded our gondola and went about the ascending circular motion. Reaching the apex, she was amazed by how far we could see. It was at one of these stops at the top when a gust of wind blew the hat off my head. I had not noticed either, that my make up had wiped off in some places, and was running and dripping down my face in others. By the time we reached the bottom, the public was first able to get sight of the monster they let into their carnival, and a church one no less. 

If you have never ridden a Ferris wheel, the motion is constant for one or two rotations. After that, you make your way around the wheel, stopping intermittently as the riders of each gondola are swapped out for new ones. Gasps and laughter came from the people as we slowly reached the bottom. People did not know what they were seeing at first. Could I be part of the carnival? Just one of the freaks for their amusement. A crowd gathered as we made each slow crawl to the bottom. It became more apparent that my appearance was not for show, but was my natural ugly hideous being. Locked in the gondola, Grace had to sit and endure my public mocking and humiliation. I have spent centuries building up a thick skin to public ridicule, but she hadn’t. All she knew was that the man she loved as her father, the person that had rescued her and shown her a life worth living was being tortured. Grace could nothing but cry. The hate deflected off of me but she absorbed it all. She was human, but as long as she was among us, she hurt like us.

We left as soon as we got off, and never again did she ask to go out. That was until October 31.    

We had Halloween. Prior to Grace, I had enjoyed the ability to walk freely that Halloween offered, but to be honest, I never took full advantage of it, or really enjoyed the night. I may have had a tough skin, but was consumed by hate and anger towards humanity. Grace changed all that. Our first Halloween after the carnival, was the first we attempted to go out. She was over the moon excited with the prospect of dressing up. Overwhelmed with choices, she chose an amalgamation of all Disney Princesses to date. Expecting to be the Beast to her Belle, she surprised me by saying I should go as Dracula. I think she got a kick out of the irony. 

This became our day, our one time of year we can be, well normal, if such a thing existed. We still moved around to keep safe, but we made sure to schedule our travels around Halloween. Trick-or-Treating became as important to our family as Christmas or birthdays are to others. She took great care in selecting her costume year to year. Grace would research different Halloween festivals and parades around the country which became our destination for that Fall. We had only each other 364 days out of the year, but come October 31 we had the world. 

Eventually Grace would go to college, We had agreed that once she was 18 and could go off on her own and not be plagued by her grotesque father. She never saw it that way though, or me as grotesque for that matter. But she knew it was time for her to go off on her own. 

We never stopped our tradition of Halloween. No matter where she was or who she was with at the time, we always found each other for Halloween. The one night of the year she could walk down the street holding her father’s hand. Nothing was going to get in her way of that.

As time went on, she was married and had children of her own. We were selective on when to share the family secret. Shortly after she was engaged to Henry, she let her husband-to-be in the circle of trust. He accepted me and understood the need for secrecy and privacy. Of course this was after the initial shock caused him to collapse into an elaborate jack-o-lantern display. Covered in pumpkin and wax, Henry hugged us both. 

What was a trick or treating party for two, became three, and in no time became five. The births of Matthew and Rose brought tears to this monster’s eyes. They didn’t question why I looked this way, or why they could only see me at certain times and certain places. But they too looked forward to Halloween to celebrate with their Grandpa. 

It was agreed to wait until the right time to tell the children. Of course, when is the right time to tell them Grandpa is a vampire. Time, though as a way for picking the right moments for you. About three years ago, Henry died of an aneurism. It was so sudden that Grace was overcome with fear and uncertainty about the future of herself or the children. She felt complete honesty was necessary.

Matthew, 10 at the time, was more upset that he was never going to acquire the supernatural abilities I had, as were not blood related. Rose, who was 6, the same age Grace was when I found her, took the news the only way a beautiful child of innocence could in a time of grief. Comforted by my ability for long life. She looked up at me, took my long bony fingers in her tiny hand, and she says,

“So you will be with me always, never going away?”

“ Never.” I said

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It’s been 60 years since then and the family continued to grow. I lost Grace to time, but I have kept my promise to Rose. Every October 31, I dust off the Dracula costume and spend the night with my family.