The Diary Of A Vampire

The inner thoughts of an arrogant vampire

Maybe it was the Morning Glory blooming in the morning and closing into its tight shell at night. Is the night truly that terrible? A twisted dark that mangles your insides while rotting away the exterior.

I was never afraid of the dark — though I did feign fear once or twice to appease my Father. It seemed to comfort him, my fear. The parental urge to protects its spawn was apparent mostly at night.

Its ironic how much things change as you grow. As I stare at my father’s corpse, I am content. Blood drips landing softly on my chin. I don’t wipe it away. The warmth fading in the coolness of my skin is comforting.

People scream at the sight of me — ironically in the day or night. I like to believe it is not fear, but respect. I know that is a lie. I am Lord of this villa, I am King and as my fangs pierce the flesh of my Mother — I am God.