Dear Diary: I Seem To Be Dead

[Henshin]

July 3, 2012
Dear Diary,

I seem to be dead.

Confused? Join the club. Apparently I've been dead for four days and I only found out about it tonight. No, this is not my vengeful spirit hovering over you, writing my eternal hatred for humanity or whatever the hell you might think. But by the end of this entry, you'll wish it was that simple. Because the truth is that for a corpse, I've been pretty active. For those four days that I've supposedly been dead, I've been out doing things. I don't know exactly what things - my mind is still a blur about the details - but I'm guessing they were probably pretty bad things. How can I be sure of that?

It has been told to me, on this night, that I am a vampire.

Go ahead and laugh. I did the same thing. After all, a vampire? Who on earth would believe such a silly thing? Not me, that's for damn sure. Hell, it took me five minutes just to work up the willpower to write down that single V. Oh, but that's not all. It gets better. I'm not just a vampire; I'm a telepathic vampire. No, this is not some long-winded joke about some dumb fanfic that Sasha sent me to laugh at, as much as I wish that was the case. This is real. Or at the very least, it's the only explanation that I have. Let that sink in for a minute. The only feasible explanation that I - Henshin Kobalt - have for my current situation is that I am a blood-drinking creature of the night who can speak to other people with my mind. But don't think I came to this crazy conclusion on my own; I haven't gone that insane quite yet. No, this entire line of thought is due to someone I met today.

Mora Clarissa Byrne. That's how she introduced herself to me, middle name and all, like some sort of noble. She has long dark hair and mossy green eyes, the kind of eyes that can stare straight into your soul. She seems to prefer wearing normal clothes - shirts and jeans, none of this elegant red-carpet dress crap that I see on the streets around night time. She's also seems to be a very serious person, though that's not to say she won't toy with someone's mind. To be honest, I think she's all around a weird person. But enough about that. You probably want to hear about what happened today, how I met her, and how this talk of vampires and telepaths came to be. Well, I won't keep you in suspense any longer.

My memories start when I found myself trying to pickpocket her. Don't ask me why I was pickpocketing her, I have no idea. I don't know the first thing about how to do it, nor do I really care to learn. Obviously, being the unskilled man that I am, she caught me with no problem. Of course she immediately asks me what I'm doing even though it was obvious to both of us. I tried to explain myself to her, but I couldn't even explain myself to myself.

So I'm standing there, scared out of my mind because I don't know what the hell is going on, just praying that I would wake up soon. Then out of the blue, she asks me what path I was. Confused? So was I. She then went on to tell me that I was a vampire, that SHE was a vampire, and that she was a Telepath on top of that... all in one breath. I couldn't help but laugh at her. Of course I laughed at her. It was the biggest load of nonsense I had heard in a while. But I thought to myself 'Eh, what the hell, I'll play along'. I told her I was a Telepath too, and I "concentrated" my mind on sending a random silly thought to her, hamming up the act and not taking it seriously for even a second.

It worked.

I came up with a random thought, and she relayed back to me the most nonsensical part of my thought. She heard me. I spoke to her with my mind. There is no other explanation.

When I got over the horrifying shock of what just happened, I realized that she was halfway down the street, and I agonized over whether I should chase after her or just let her go. But as I stood there thinking and watching her get further and further away, I acted on impulse and went after her as fast as I could. Obviously that's what she wanted me to do - to admit defeat and believe what she said. But while she may think she had manipulated me, thinking back on it, following her was the logical course of action... even if impulse was the reason I actually did it. The reasoning comes from a combination of the situation I was in, and the consequences of following her or not following her in each one. Follow me on this one:

• If this was a dream, then whatever I chose to do would be of no consequence.
• If this was an elaborate prank, and I chose to let her go, then the prank would continue until I fell for it like a moron.
• If this was an elaborate prank, and I chose to follow her, then I would've fallen for it like a moron. But then I would've been told by the one responsible how they pulled it off, and I wouldn't have to deal with it for a lengthy period of time while questioning my sanity.
• If this was real, and I chose to let her go, then I would be a vampire on my own in the world with nobody I could talk to about it unless I happened to run into her again.
• If this was real, and I chose to follow her, then I would be in the company of someone like myself and be able to ask questions and learn.

As you can see, there is no choice to be made. Nothing good would have come from letting her go. But I digress.

We sat down and tried to figure out my situation. As it turns out, when a vampire bites someone (I can't believe I'm writing this with a straight face) they seemed to inject something into the human's bloodstream that dazes and confuses them, leaving them without memory of the vampire or the bite itself. We've theorized that's what happened to my missing four days - and yes, she did correctly guess that I had a memory gap. We're also guessing that my sire broke into my house and turned me in my sleep somewhere between the night of the 28th and the morning of the 29th, and the fact that I was asleep when it happened is why I didn't realize I was a vampire, as well as why the memory gap is as long as it is.

As the pieces started falling into place, it became more and more evident that what Mora had told me was the truth... that I really was a vampire. And as I felt my world crushing me under the weight of this realization, she offered to help me. She offered to take me in as one of her own, teach me what I need to know, give me a home, a family with people like me. I didn't have anyone else I could turn to, anyone else I could trust. I took her up on her offer without hesitation.

Our encounter is the first solid memory I have from the past four days, which leads me to why I'm writing this down in the first place. Normally I wouldn't even consider keeping a diary. It's a waste of time to write down my thoughts on the day's events, because I've already thought them up and if they're important enough, I'll remember them anyway. But I have a memory gap spanning four days. I don't know where I went. I don't know what I did. I don't know who I met. I don't even know if the bits and pieces I do remember actually happened. And you know what? That's scary. Forget vampires, forget werewolves, forget all the dark horrors that lurk under the bed at night; nothing is as terrifying as losing days of your life at a time.

So if some time in the future I forget anything that has happened, I'm relying on you, my diary, to make sure my past is not forever lost to myself. If this has happened again and you, Henshin Kobalt, are reading this to find out about yourself, accept everything in here as the truth. Do not question it. Do not dismiss it. Read through everything, commit it to memory, then seek out the woman you met on this night. She helped you once before. She will help you again.

Keep an open mind.
- Henshin Kobalt

[Henshin]

July 5, 2012
Dear Diary,

It's been a couple of days since my realization. I'm glad to report that I still have a full recollection of everything I did during those days. Hopefully it stays that way. But obviously that's not why I'm writing in you.

Already I've found out a few things about the vampires in this world that should be put to paper just in case I have a relapse. Bear in mind that these are rather basic discoveries; things that have already been talked about in some of the myths and legends. But every bit of information helps, so lets get right to it.

• Sunlight doesn't outright kill a vampire, but it does horrendously burn them. You know the descriptive phrase "white hot intensity of a thousand suns"? That's probably what it feels like, because that's sure as hell what it looks like. I'm not yet sure if it has to be direct sunlight, or if indirect sunlight will cause it too. I do not care to test it willingly.
• Blood is blood. It doesn't matter where the blood comes from, be it vermin or human, it nourishes just as equally. This raises the question: can a vampire feed off of another vampire? I'm not going to try it, and I hope nobody else does either.
• Blood is the only thing vampires can ingest. Everything else gets forced back up right away. Even water is hard to swallow. Farewell, pizza. I hardly knew ye.
• Obviously, vampires are many times stronger and faster than their human counterparts. However, this doesn't seem to take any effort on the part of the vampire to pull off. It's not magic, it's just the way they are.
• Most other things widely believed to hurt or ward off vampires are completely ineffective. Garlic doesn't faze me. Crosses and churches don't burn my skin or put the fear of God in me. Silver bullets still hurt like hell, but so do normal bullets. I haven't tried running water yet, but I'm not brave enough to try and swim across a raging river.
• Vampires have no reflections. I came out of the shower one day, looked in the mirror to comb my hair straight, and saw nothing staring back at me. I freaked out, as is my right, but at least I could understand that it was because I was a vampire now. If a human ever saw that, they'd likely go stark raving mad, so avoid reflective surfaces as much as possible.

The ineffectiveness of holy items also leads me to theorize that vampires aren't the spawn of the devil, and therefore just becoming one doesn't instantly damn one's soul to Hell. That's good news for everyone involved, because if I went to Hell solely because someone turned me while I was sleeping, I would not be a happy man.

I've also heard the word "Masquerade" tossed around a lot. I'm not exactly sure on the details, but apparently the Masquerade is a set of rules that all vampires follow to keep their existence from being exposed to the human world. Which makes perfect sense if you think about it - you don't want your prey to know about you, otherwise they might escape, or worse... fight back.

I'll add more discoveries as I come upon them.

Keep an open mind.
- Henshin Kobalt

[Henshin]

July 6, 2012
Dear Diary,

I've decided to spend the night at Sasha's place. Spend the day? Ugh, this will get confusing. For future reference, think of "day" as "waking hours" and think of "night" as "sleeping hours".

Anyway, I've just realized that if it's possible for me to forget the events of four days of my life, then it's equally possible for me to lose the memories of any days prior to that as well. If that happens, then I at least want to have a way to remember Sasha. She has been my best friend since forever and that friendship has grown considerably since that day, to the point where calling her a "friend" doesn't do it justice. She is probably the most important person in my life. We trust each other completely. There are no secrets between us. Well, except for one.

I haven't yet told her that I'm a vampire. My reasons for this should be obvious. I'm not sure I'll ever tell her, if I can get away with it. However I have this feeling that fate won't be that kind towards me. Eventually I'll have to break the news to her. I'm just not sure how to do it. Well... that's an entry for another day. For now, I want to focus on her. On us, how we met, and how we came to be.

The first time Sasha and I met was in kindergarten. We barely interacted with each other then because, you know, cooties. Come first grade, it was a different story. You know that guy in school who you could always count on to have the right answer to pretty much any question? That was me. But as it turns out, it was also her. When there was a difficult question that needed answered, our hands were always the ones in the air. We were the class geniuses. We knew it, our classmates knew it, even the teacher knew it. And it never became more apparent than when a game was on the day's agenda.

Spelling bees, Jeopardy, Brain Quest. Everyone loved game day, and rightfully so: games are awesome. But none loved it more than Sasha and me. Why? Because at the end of the day, you could always expect us to be the last two people standing. Most times it was a draw because the teacher ran out of questions. Eventually she came up with the idea of a tiebreaker, where the winner was the first one to submit the correct answer. Sometimes I would win, sometimes Sasha would win. It didn't matter to us either way; we got to the finals. We knew we were the best in the class.

That's when people started counting. Our classmates were keeping track of our wins and writing them on the chalkboard. Suddenly it was no longer about reaching the final two. Just standing in front of the class with each other going back and forth wasn't enough anymore. It was a competition. A game within a game. Now it was serious. We reveled in every victory and wallowed in every defeat, and every single one was counted up. At the end of the year, the final score had been written up on the board: It was a tie. Everyone else was impressed. We were unsatisfied. A tie? You couldn't end a competition in a tie! But that's how it was, and we had to wait three months for school to start back up and break it. Finally second grade came around, and the games picked up right where they had left off. Wins and losses were had by both, and in the end, it was another tie.

Third grade. By now the whole school had known of our epic clash of the minds, the ultimate battle of boys vs. girls, to the point where our scores were posted on the bulletin board in the school lobby by our classmates. Even the all-powerful fourth and fifth graders were taking an interest. Every victory for one of us meant bragging rights for that gender until the next game was played. But in the end, it was the same story: Another tie. Another three months of waiting.

Fourth grade was the year where everything changed. The administration had gotten wind of our competition and believed we had become obsessed with each other. So they decided the best thing to do for both of us was to separate us. We were put in different classes for the whole year. There was no competition for either of us - no one could come close. The class games had become a guaranteed win. A hollow victory. Pointless. The only time we ever saw each other was during recess, and you can bet that we spent every minute of it together. When the teachers noticed we had gone from our loud, energetic selves to more normal, mellow kids, they thought they had done the right thing. But when we mellowed more and more with each passing week, to the point where we stopped participating in class, they knew they had made a mistake. But by then it was too late to fix it. They had to wait for the next year to roll around.

Fifth grade. The top of the food chain for elementary school. The staff made the wise decision to put us back in the same class, and the effect was immediately obvious. We had our usual energy back, and were there to answer whatever questions needed answering. Most importantly, at least for the students, the games were back on. Victories and defeats were recorded once more, and the bulletin board was once again a gathering point for the masses. As the days became weeks, and the weeks became months, it became obvious to everyone. This year would be it. This would determine who was the best. And on that final day of elementary school, the final score was posted on that legendary bulletin board.

A tie.

But you know what? We were okay with that. We realized that we didn't really care about the competitions or the scores; we were just happy we could be together. We had already formed a strong friendship by that final day of school, and it has persisted and grown stronger throughout our whole lives to this day. I can only hope that it stays that way forever, and I'm absolutely certain that she feels the same way.

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If you have somehow forgotten all about this, that is a true shame. Hopefully reading this story has jogged your memory. But even if it hasn't, that doesn't change the fact that you need to be with her. You will never find another person like her in the world.

I'll describe Sasha's appearance so you can find her in a crowd. I won't go into gushing detail about her looks for a couple of reasons. First, that's not my thing. Second, it might give you the wrong idea about our relationship. Third and most important, if Sasha ever found out I described her in such a way, she would strangle me. So with that in mind, here's what she looks like in as much detail as I'm willing (and brave enough) to go into:

• Long brown hair. Usually reaches just below the shoulders. Prefers to keep it straight and simple.
• Blue eyes. May wear colored contacts if the mood suits her; usually blood red or bright yellow.
• Caucasian. Fair skin, I think. Don't know what it means, don't care. Assume it means "not pale, not tan."
• 5' 8". Not long-legged, just tall.
• Asked her about weight once, got punched for it. Guessed 110 pounds right after, got kissed for it. The moral: she weighs 110.
• Slim build, slightly athletic. Works hard to keep it that way.
• Modest bust. Visible, but not prominent. Don't know exact size, don't care to find out. Just call it "plenty".
• Prefers plain clothes: Shirt, jeans, and boots. Sundresses on hot days.
• Tolerates ladylike clothes: Small dresses, stockings, high heels and jewelry. Will complain at every chance.
• Hates girly clothes with a passion. Anything described as "cute" will burn in hell.

Commit it to memory, then seek her out in Gullsborough. Once you find her, go ahead and explain your amnesiac situation. Once she stops laughing, repeat yourself - she'll believe you. She'll stick by your side the whole time. Just as she always has. Just as she always will.

Keep an open mind.
- Henshin Kobalt