Path of the Vampire forum

"We are not your kind of people, speak a different language, we see through your lies, we are not your kind of people. Won't be cast as demons, creatures you despise,"

the radio blared at me before it shut down as I turned down the rest of the car. The moon was high and shined down over the empty factory. In Harper Rock people talked about how creatures roamed the night. Video lurked on the internet that "confirmed" these suspicions. Usually the footage was grainy. Modern day counterparts to the photos of Nessy from the Loach.

Whether vampires were rule or not didn't mean monsters didn't lurk in Harper Rock. I knew this for a fact. Getting out of the car I tried be quiet shutting the door. Running my hand over the car a familiar voice chimed in from behind me.

"Danny Boy, are you excited as I am? Can you feel it!? Can you taste it!? Oh I can. I experience all of it and it's soooooooooooo good. It's like we've been brought back to life. Leaving behind the states, starting anew here!" the man behind me wearing a black suit with a charcoal gray shirt that was so dark it could have been black.

I didn't respond. Work needed to be done. Dipping inside my grey suit jacket I pulled out the keys and opened the trunk. A familiar black garbage bag waited on me. With a grunt I hefted it over my shoulder then began to walk toward the abandoned factory. As always My Dark Friend did little to help, but he followed me like every other time.

Over the years I've lost track of which of us belonged to the other. My Dark Friend was a product of my damaged psyche or I was a product of his. All I knew was I had control of the body, and he was forever with me. My guest commentator that never left. The urge that tugged in the back of my mind when I grew too quiet. He was many things to me, whether I liked it or not, My Dark Friend always watched.

Crunching my feet made their way over grass and concrete. Dumping the bag inside an empty oil bare I pushed open the black industrial plastic. A severed hand practically waved at me. Bits of crimson slid down the fingers. The blood had yet to congeal. Nearby part of a leg was my accelerate, engine cleaner.

Burning faster and hotter than oil it was great for the final part of my ritual. Emptying the bottle over all of the body parts in the bag, they belonged to Adrian Newbourne a man that "allegedly" had nothing to do with his wife's disappearance. Evidence screamed foul play against him, but it was all circumstantial. He walked free...until he met me.

I'm a private investigator and always have been since college. I'm the guy that's been paid to dig through your trash, keep tabs on you, and find things to use against you in legal matters. As a P.I. I work within the law, what I do is legal, but people believed it was just unethical or immoral. It was still legal thus justified.

The world showed me its true face within the first year of the job. Then I began to work outside of the law for my night hobby. At the end of the day those that deserved justice walk free. I've used what I can to make sure their journey was short, like Mr. Newbourne here.

With the bottle empty I pulled out a box of stick matches, lit it and my eyes marveled at the flame. The last piece of the puzzle, every time. Each flicker was almost like a small wave before I tossed it. Flames shot up quickly from the barrel.

My Dark Friend stood next to me and we watched for a few moments. I knew the world wasn't free of monsters because...I was one. At least I was a monster better than most.

--------------

OOC: Quoted lyrics are by the band Garbage from their song "Not Your Kind of People."

Slowly the door creaked as I opened up.

"Here are the keys, mac," the super said and handed me the keys. All of the paperwork was done. He was waiting for me to arrive.

Once I had the keys he left, I was no longer a concern. As I stood in the doorway memories and visions flooded my senses. Ghosts of people from another time and place came into focus. Adora smiled at me with all of her mismatched colors. My first friend. She dragged me to places and it was almost like she tugged me into the place.

She looked like a model to product that belonged in places like Hot Topic. Despite her odd appearance she was kind and very warm. Even her memory carried that warmth. As she faded away others came and went just as quickly.

Udo was there in his usual strong and silent nature. He gave me a nod of respect before vanishing. Nicolette regarded me curtly. When she wasn't on the clock Nicolette was nice. On the clock she was a force to be reckoned with that dressed ten times better than you. We got into a fight once. I slung an insult at her that was probably more complimentary than intended. It still injured her pride, so the damage was done. Guilt washed over me and I heard my lips mutter, "Sorry." Time had past between then and now, and I still felt bad about it.

Looking around in the empty room I saw ghost figures of my old things as I instinctively shut the door. The work desk that was between a filing cabinet and a very comfortable couch from a second-hand store. Sighing I tried to push past it all. Every single person my mind made me remember were gone. They were living life in another place. I was the one that had to rebuild.

My gaze went to a window that overlooked the city. Harper Rock was alive and well. Car lights and city buildings lit up the night sky. People still roamed the streets even at this hour. For a moment my mind settled down. Memories of friends and family were pushed away. Each person given their proper resting place in the crevices of my mind...except for one.

They weren't like the others. Every person reenacted a moment. Something special to me that held some kind of weight. This one just stood like a static image on a background in motion. All of her beauty just as enchanting as the day I met her. The hair, the eyes, everything that made a man, thought to not have a heart, have a raising pulse...There was only one thing to say to my tormentor, "I'm sorry you couldn't follow me."

Both me and the memory felt the ping of sadness before she faded. That was another life. It was time to embrace a new one.

The last drop of crimson fell to the ground. With that small speck of red I saw the last bit of pain and fight leave the latest person. Martin Keyes, a man that murdered his family and was never charged even after thirty years. Until I gagged him the man tried to plead with me. As I recalled his screams of, "I'LL TURN MYSELF INTO THE COPS! PLEASE STOP! I WON'T TELL THEM!!!"

A song lyric flashed into my mind:

"Vows are spoken
To be broken
Feelings are intense
Words are trivial
Pleasures remain
So does the pain
Words are meaningless
And forgettable"

I knew his words were meaningless and I think he did too. The pleading stopped after I started to cut then he just began to scream. Even now I had to start disposal of the severed limbs that used to be Mister Keyes. A sense of calm washed over me, but it wasn't a satisfying calm. It wasn't like a Zen-like trance. That would come later. This felt like taking a little bit of an edge off.

My body was wrapped in various wrappings familiar to that of meat factory workers. Long black hazmat style gloves crawled up my arms and the drops of blood trickled. Both hands cradled my instruments, the long blades that I used to end Mister Keyes.

From the back of my mind I felt a ping. The voice of My Dark Friend, the shattered part of my psyche that only I could see and hear, made his presence known in a way I hadn't seen before. Well heard and he began to sing something that I couldn't deny. At least I couldn't deny in this moment.

All of the red was dripping off of my arms, bits of metal peaked out from the blood covered blade and shined thanks to the light in the room. Despite these sights all I could focus on were the words My Dark Friend sang:

"All you've ever wanted
All I you've ever needed
Is here in your arms"

And My Dark Friend knew just how right he was. Because in these moments by myself before giving into my biggest hunger all I needed, was blood.

Inner Musings:

Why do I like this show so much? Even now I am working on episode two. Normally I am not a man that likes television or movies. The exception has always been Sherlock Holmes. He's the exception to my enjoyment. My books that are not about the soul and morality are on Sherlock.The only movies and shows I like are the same thing. However, there is this new contender on the field called Twin Peaks.

It's sucking me in. If I was an FBI agent I would be the man in this show. He seems damaged enough to be like me. The receptionist at the Sheriff's office is a bit annoying. The show has an odd quality to it that reminds me of Harper Rock, quaint, eerie and downright strange. Twin Peaks has a murder mystery surrounded by strange. Harper has several murders surrounded by strange. All I need is a one eyed woman to appear and talk to me about drapes before I consider myself in some parallel place.

Strange that a fictional place is so similar to a real one.