A Vampire's Tale

When the world was young and mankind was new to it, the sons of God came and went as they pleased. They pleasured themselves with the daughters of men, bringing forth men of great power, stature, and size. These men who were half angel and half man had an unquenchable thirst for blood. They were called Nephilim, better known today as Vampire.

Today, there is much fictitious lore we must dispel concerning my kind before proceeding with my tale. We do drink the blood of humans, rejuvenating our bodies, giving us exceptionally long lives, but we do not turn humans into vampires. We breed, just as humans do. Only I am true blood, my children being mixed with human blood, their bloodlines having weakened over millennia. We do not fear the radiance of the sun, but rather bask in its glow, warming our blood and tanning our skin. In centuries past we hunted more at night, under the cloak of darkness where our heightened senses were to our advantage, making it seem as if we only came out at night. We do not fly, change shapes, or control people's minds. Our reflections appear in mirrors, we can cross your threshold uninvited, we are unaffected by crucifixes or holy water, we can walk on consecrated ground, garlic is delicious, and we cannot be killed by a stake through the heart. It will be pushed out through the rejuvenation process. The only ways we can be killed, which I will tell you for the sake of the story, is through decapitation or drowning.

Now, to start my story is to start with my birth. It was during the time of the first war when the farming chieftain rose up and slayed the shepherd chieftain over territorial disputes and the favoring of God. As men fought, angels known as the watchers warmed men’s beds with their women. My father, Samael, who was first amongst the watchers, had my mother Shinar, and she gave birth to me, naming me Nimrod. Considered a bastard son, I was allowed to grow up amongst the farming tribes. I grew fast and became tall, slender, strong, fast, and agile. Once my adolescence came, I went through changes. Most prominent, the need for blood.

One hot afternoon, in the land we called Eden, outside the walls of the forbidden garden, I swam with a girl I had long favored, Nanna. She was a beautiful girl with long dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. We splashed and played in a tributary of the Euphrates when my blood lust came upon me. My body temperature rose even in the cool pool of water. My stomach cramped, every muscle seizing tightly as my mouth went dry. I winced in pain. Nanna took noticed and checked on me with concern. I could hear blood flowing through her veins like water down the river. It made me desperate, survival instincts coming to the forefront. I pounced on her like a lion does the gazelle. I sank my teeth into her neck and the water turned red. It was like biting into my first peach all over again. The supple fruit breaking under the pressure of my bite, sweet nectar dripping down my chin. It was a euphoric sensation like none I had ever experienced. I drank my sweet friend dry that day, and later felt remorse.

I turned to the elder Nephilim. They educated me on how to live amongst humans and control my urges, heightened senses, and strengths. The Nephilim had a deal with the humans that as long as they helped the humans with their labor, they would provide us with enough blood to sustain ourselves. During that time, it was a time of prosperity for everyone – farmer, shepherd, and Nephilim alike. With the Nephilim’s help, the work was less, freeing everyone up for more leisurely activities. Food and wine were plenty, men and women shared each other out in the open, music was festive, and we danced until the sun came up on many occasions. All of us except for one man.

Out in the plains lived a crazy old man who rarely ventured into Eden. He and his sons were cutting down all the trees around his home and fashioning them into a boat larger than anything we had ever seen. He kept telling us it was going to rain. There was never a shortage of rain in Eden, nothing of any concern, but the old man wasn’t hurting anyone, so we let him be. Things got stranger as we started noticing him in the wilderness, trapping animals, and rounding up domesticated animals, always in pairs. When we inquired as to what he was doing, he told us it was going to rain. When we asked how he knew, he said, “God told him.” We all laughed and went about enjoying life. That was until my father came to me for the first time.

“Nimrod, hear me, and hear me well. God plans to wipe all life from the Earth and start again. I can hide you on Noah’s ark so that your life may be spared, but we must go now.”

“What of my mother? Surely there is time to go back for her.”

“There is not. The doors will be sealed soon. The rains are coming.”

“We must warn everyone! Tell them to get to high ground!”

Samael grabbed my wrist as I was about to run off and said, “There is no ground high enough. Come, we must go.”

We ran for the ark. Noah was loading the last of the animals. Samael gave me his angel’s cloak, the cloak of invisibility, and told me to stay out of sight and resist the urge to feed, consume rat’s blood if I must. I put on the cloak and made my way on board moments before the doors were sealed. The light inside was low, almost dark, but I found my way to a stack of barrels filled with grain and hid behind them. Within an hour the rain came. It sounded like God was throwing rocks down from heaven within the confines of the ark it rained so hard. Eden had never seen such rain. My heart sank because I knew what was coming, but I knew at that point, outside the ark, people were only seeking shelter.

I dozed off and was awakened by banging on the wall. There were no windows to see outside, and it was probably all for the better, for what my mind’s eye showed me was terrible enough. I figured the waters were rising at that point. I could hear splashing and screaming. I visualized a mob of people trying to seek refuge on the ark, trampling each other hoping to be the first let onboard. I saw in my mind piles of humans and Nephilim alike trying to climb on the ark, as the water rose around them. I imagined the young and elderly being trampled underfoot and drowning in only inches of water. I heard fingernails clawing at the wood, probably breaking, fingertips bleeding, filled with splinters. Their cries and pleas became more desperate when suddenly I felt the ark shift. I pictured it hitting part of the mob and dragging them under as it began to float. I heard what I assumed were trees rubbing against the right side of the ark as we floated away. The image of the water rising over my mother’s head as she struggled to swim to the top invaded my mind. Bubbles sprayed from her mouth, and she started to convulse. Then she was still, her hair floating above her head like the crown she deserved in life, hundreds of sinking bodies surrounding her.

The ark was thrown every which way as the waters continued to rise and the rain fell. Cargo and animal alike shifted wildly with the ark as it was spun and tossed. It scraped trees and rocks on hillsides. I was beginning to think we might be torn to pieces and drown as well. And thus was the beginning of an excruciating half year staying hidden and drinking the blood of mice and rats.

When the doors opened, we were on the side of a mountain far from home. I followed Noah and his family at a distance down the mountain to the river. From there I left them and followed the river south. It was an arduous trek, the ground being mud and wet rock. Trees were ripped from the ground and strewn everywhere. Dead animals lie in my path, bloated and filthy. Some of them were caught in the debris, impaled on the branches, the stench of their decay heavy in the air. The same with the bodies of men, their eyes fearful and bulging, their skin blue and cold. Even fish were washed up on the shore and left behind by the water. Some were as big as houses with teeth like knives. The flies and mosquitoes were thick, like black wisps of cloud, making a miserable journey all the more miserable. I was starving, yearning for blood. I could feel myself aging. It was in my bones and my muscles ached.

I never made it back to Eden. It had been swallowed whole by the sea, waters that swept dead bodies onto the land like one who sweeps dirt from their home. I cursed God that day and swore to lead people away from him and worship new Gods once the Earth was replenished.

Eventually men made their way to the small farmstead I had built. I exchanged land for sheep, cattle, boys and girls to feed from, and a woman to love. We built many cities and constructed a tower that almost reached heaven before God brought it down, killing hundreds. When the cities had spread from the sea to the mountains, I united them under a new name, Sargon. My name changed many times through history. I have been a thorn in the side of God’s chosen people and tested his son in the wilderness. But those are other stories for another time.