Path of the Vampire forum

Sometime around midnight.

The throb of music sounded all around me when I parked myself at the bar, but even that, loud as it was, had faded somewhat to the background. I was nursing a strong drink while toying with the piercing in my lip. First the tip of my tongue, stroking over the cool metal hoop and drawing it up enough to clasp between teeth and flesh, followed by the twist of my fingers, just to feel something different. I knew from experience I shouldn't mess with it too much - the last time it slipped, it had bled for an hour when I gave it too rough a tug before it swelled up from the small tear I'd caused. And who wanted a fat lip anyway? It only drew attention, something I got enough of already. Not to brag, but it’s too easy to look around a bar and find several eyes on me at once. Why couldn't I simply walk down a quiet street in leather pants and studs without getting stared at? I dress to reflect my mood, my psyche, my own outlook on life. It’s a personal thing, this inner despondence, and I feel that people should respect that.

Another tug on the piercing and I wince. I'm stalling. Almost every night goes the same way. I always end up at the Necropolis - it was where the vampires hung out, right? At least, that was what I'd read when I'd first started looking at that message board on the internet. Those people were obsessed with vampires. It was either a very elaborate fantasy, or... well. Even I know how ridiculous it is for a Goth who's more than a little obsessed with death to want to believe so whole-heartedly in the existence of actual walking, talking, bloodsucking vampires. But if there was even the slightest chance, I had to know.

Tonight was looking no different to all the rest. The clouds had rolled in hours earlier, long after I'd gotten off work, but before I left the apartment. It was the perfect night: cool, crisp, about to rain, or maybe even snow. It reminded me of home. It is partly why I stay and frequent the Necropolis night after night, despite having no success.The building was a beautiful old throwback to times gone by. I've admired every last detail up close, too, from the soaring spires to the fine stained glass work, to the hand-tooled pews that adorned the interior leading up to the altar-like bar. I sit here most nights, soaking up the atmosphere and vibes that the hunk of stone and wood give off.

I sighed and tossed back the rest of the drink. Enough with the stalling, with the swirling thoughts. There had been nothing interesting to see tonight, as usual, and so, it was time to be on the move. Time to work my way to the cemetery and absorb the atmosphere, to soak it all in. But first... first there is a noise and a scuffle. I didn't see it but I saw the people react when something came bursting through the velvet doors. They scatter like shotgun pellets. A woman screams and drops her drink. A man curses. The music stops and a tense stillness falls over us all. I sit back in my seat, my Steel-blue eyes wide and focused as I analyse the crowd. After a while I recognise that there's goosebumps on my arms and a churning in my stomach, but I'm not frightened. I'm excited.