Path of the Vampire forum

The inevitable was on the woman in front of me. I watch her facial features, letting her death; the knowledge in knowing her death was approaching, sink into those features. When people realize they are going to die, there are a series of emotions, supposedly. There are seven of them, I learned my first year in college, but I could debate there's probably more like five. Six tops. I fail to see the boundaries with some of those stages, or people could some time experience a couple at one time. The brain is a funny and mysterious thing and no two are alike. People can share characteristics-but no two people experience their onward demise in the same exact way.

There's shock. You just got some bad news. You don't know what to say or what to do. I don't think I ever experience that. I recognize things are bad or need to be fixed, so I ******* do it. Denial. I don't think I experience this one either. If things seem to be different-they typically are. You have to trust your gut and your experiences. You remember where things are; keys just don't wander off. They don't have legs. You can see someone looking old or tired. Your eyes (unless blind), see a a lot-don't mistrust your own perceptions. You know when things aren't right or don't look right. You can't deny it in my mind. Trust your instincts and perceptions and it's next to impossible to deny anything. Anger. I can't admit to never being angry-I've been angry. If anyone gets in my space; in my territory, I'm going to protect that area. Make you get out. I sort of get why people get angry about the whole dying thing-someone is invading their life. Trying to modify it. I wouldn't appreciate that either. Bargaining. I don't really understand that either. Promising some entity who has millions of lives on the planet-isn't going to work, assholes. You aren't special. So special he or she or whatever is listening to you when he's got to work on everyone and everything. If the guy even exists at all. Sister B and I have differing opinions on that. Moving on.

Depression. What's there to be depressed about? No one ever told anyone, that I know of, that you weren't ever going to die. Sure, maybe in movies and books, but that crap isn't real. But, I can see how people in this city might be depressed if they knew about vampires and hoped that one day they might become one. A get out of death free sort of card. We do die, but we come back too. I can sort of understand being depressed then. From there, most people attempt to find a solution to their problem. Maybe by taking this pill, or this shot they might get better or be cured enough to see another ten or fifteen years. It don't matter to me, because we're all dead anyways. Unless you become a vampire. Promised ten years might realistically only be five and then you need to look at quality of health. Is it worth living five or ten more years just to drink my meal from a bag and lay in bed all day, letting someone else wipe my ***? Shoot me now. Send me to hell right now because it can't be any worse than what that might be about. And the one I can relate to the most-acceptance. We all do this at different times. We accept out fate and move the **** on. Life is life, it's short and done with in a span of a clap compared to how old our planet is. And that's all I see from this woman in front of me. She's accepted her fate. Good on her.

While I wait for her to hit the floor, I grab a cigarette out from my pack, put it between my lips and light it. It shouldn't take too long. Two, two and a half minutes at most. I severed a pretty big vein in her neck. We've only got about ten pints in us-but she's been cut a couple times so that will help with the drainage. I slowly shrug out of my coat, one arm at a time and then let it drop to the ground at my feet. I never cared about being dirty before, or my clothes being dirty either, so for it to be on the damp concrete on the ground is no big deal to me. From there I kick the thing aside, as to not get any of her blood or hairs on it-just in case things go south. I don't want her body follicles and other things on my coat. That's just asking for a whole lot of trouble in my opinion. The small blade is dragged across my palm at about the same time she hits the concrete with her knees. I drop to my knees in a similar fashion and then do what I'm supposed to do. My palm is clasped over her mouth, as if I'm preventing her from screaming and wait. I count in my head to twenty-eight and then stand and clutch my palm closed. Can't be seeping inky black stuff everywhere. I finish my cigarette and just stand there, looking at her. It will either take, or it won't, which is her problem. I grab my half finished pack of cigarettes, pull them all out and stuff them in my pocket and then begin to use the black substance that is coming from my palm to write a simple message. Here. Tomorrow. Eight p.m. 'Til then stay indoors'. With that done and the hard pack ripped open so I could write the message on the inside, I drop the pack besides the woman's head and then tome to the Eyrie.