Selections from By Blood We Live
Page 13
Of course, being Byronic, the ideal vampire is male, heroic in his way, a frontiersman braving the wilds of humanity, piling high his carcasses on the plains.
I am not an ideal vampire.
But surely my curls were never so black and shining as the day they lay me in the dirt. I listened to them mumble the old 23rd and counted like sheep the thud-falls of shoveled earth on the lid of what I must assume was a very expensive coffin. Death, as I have said, is Victorian—thus, no family would allow themselves to be seen in public with sub-par funerary rites.
I will not here indulge in that most vulgar of recent fashions, autobiography. Suffice it to say that I, along with every other vampire since the classical age of our Slavic forefathers, clawed my way out of that very well-appointed coffin and into the inevitably moonlit night. I availed myself, as so many of us do, of the graveyard caretaker as my first victim—how many of us recall the awkwardness of that first exsanguination! It is so much like making love for the first time; one has no clear idea what goes where, but clutches stiffly to whatever seems more or less correct, spraying fluids all over one's best evening clothes and mumbling apologies to the hapless partner, who no doubt experienced none of the crude pleasure one hoards to oneself. Of course, the experience of feeding is hardly the psycho-sexual revelation recent extra-cultural authors have claimed—do you, dear reader, find yourself in involuntary climax when ingesting a plate of pasta and a modest red wine? Certainly not. Yet certain in vogue lady novelists would have their deluded readership believe our own furtive suppers are orgiastic communions of the highest order.
Ah, but I have forgotten the tiresome necessity of all vampiric literature—I have not given my credentials. I ought to simply attach a notice of my parentage to my lapel or my Curriculum Vitae, perhaps even have it notarized like the breeding papers of a half-feeble spaniel. But certainly, without credentials, I can have nothing of importance to say. Very well.
I was sponsored by a very beguiling old debauch by the name of Ambrose Mosshammer who asked me to stay after his Herodotus seminar for special instruction. I fully expected to be accosted in his windowless eighth floor office—though when I imagined his skeletal hand groping my breasts and tearing my new wool skirt, I did not quite realize that he would simultaneously be whispering the tale of Gyges in my ear and divining the path of my jugular with his tongue before slashing into my throat with his gnarled, ancient teeth. It was certainly not what I had been led to expect young ladies experienced behind the closed doors of the offices of elderly colleagues. (I beg the forgiveness of any vampiric readers, for whom this recitation must be as tedious and gauche as a human reading about the expulsion of the placenta from his mother's womb. But the forms must be followed.)
Ambrose's blood tasted faintly of dust and the glue of book-bindings, as well as a peculiar undertaste of sandalwood and tobacco. It was not unpleasant, but I was rather in a rush to finish the process, once I realized what was afoot. There is no need to dwell in ritual—that sort of decadence can be safely left to Catholicism. He proffered his wrist in a most gentlemanly manner, and I availed myself of the necessary blood. I cannot overstate his professionalism and patience, truly, the old ones have a gravitas the younger generation of fiends cannot match.
I left his office with a rumpled skirt and a torn blouse, carried by his graduate students out to the parking lot, where I could safely be assumed to have been a victim of an over-zealous mugger. A few days later, I had risen from my grave and thusly embarked on my postdoctoral career.
—Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu
University of Budapest
Night Campus
About the Author
Anna-Silvia Oppenhagen-Petrescu was born in 1948 to Danish-Romanian parents, Adrian Petrescu and Marie Oppenhagen. Adrian and Marie had immigrated from the Continent whilst Marie was pregnant to the quiet London suburb of Kensington, where they raised their only daughter in relative tranquility1.
The life of a young scholar is often tediously predictable, and young Anna was educated in the usual single-sex boarding schools before entering the equally homogenous St. Hilda's College, Oxford University. She studied Classics there under the watchful eye of Dr. Ambrose K. Mosshammer, who in her final year of study graciously Converted her in recognition of her great talent2.
Once Anna had graduated, her interest shifted from the roots of human civilization in Ancient Greece to the roots of Vampiric civilization in the Slavic states and Central Europe. Her unromantic and strictly researched work in the field of Proto-History is widely recognized as having been one of the foundations of the field. In 1983, she helped to establish the Order of the Ivory Tooth, an association of literary historians who set out to archive the entirety of the Vampiric Corpus—that is, the sum total of all literature involving Vampires in the West. While this goal is far from complete, the Order is now one of the most highly respected institutions among the Vampiric elite, and its work, and ritual conferences, are watched with great interest.
In the early eighties, while a humble lecturer at the University of the Danube3, Anna was also involved in the Eden Project, a think-tank which aimed to definitively prove or debunk the ever-popular claims of pre-Slavic heritage through Lilith. In recent years, the Edenites have shifted their focus to documenting the Dark Ages of the Classical World and Early Semitic Culture, in which the records of Vampiric activity are so scarce as to be by and large discounted by the academic majority. The "Lilith Question," a now-ubiquitous term coined by Dr. Moira Russell, Anna's partner in Edenism, was never qualitatively answered, and the two disagree on the subject to this day.
In 1986, Anna was hired as a tenure-track professor at the University of Constantinople, where she produced her enormous and definitive critical work, She Drained Me of My Very Marrow: The Female Vampire in History and Literature 4.The success and influence of this work cannot be overestimated, and continues to be the bedrock of Black Feminism5, a movement which has become something of a juggernaut in recent years. In fact, it was largely due to the popularity of this "lay" history that the loose confederation of Night Campuses organized the first of its annual Conferences in Madrid, in 1993. Of course there are many other conferences around the world, and meetings of various Societies, but the general Conference of Shadow-Academia is by far the largest, most prestigious, and well-attended. It is, nowadays, simply referred to as "The Conference6."
Disagreements arose between Anna and the Faculty of Sanguinary History at Constantinople, largely revolving around Anna's involvement with the Edenites and her insistence on encouraging her graduate students to generate texts of their own to counter the horde of human literature on the subject of Vampires7. In 1991, she left Constantinople and took the prestigious Geisslerin Chair at the University of Budapest, where she teaches to this day.
Anna remains unmarried8.
____________________________
1 It is considered somewhat gauche to reference one's mortal parentage when in polite society. Most modern vampires trace their heritage purely through the line of Conversion, often in the Spanish style, in which case Anna's rather baroque moniker would be Anna-Silvia Oppenhagen-Petrescu y Mosshammer y Chamberlain, etc. Nevertheless, for the sake of the laity, she has chosen to briefly recount the flotsam and jetsam of her pre-Conversion existence here. Those of standing in the Community may feel secure in passing by this piece of historical curiosity.
2 Dr. Mosshammer has kindly agreed to write an introduction to Dr. Petrescu's forthcoming work, Exsanguinations: A Handbook for the Educated Vampire. (University of Csejthe Press, 2005). The apprentice-master relationship between many vampires and the quasi-parental figures who Converted them is well-documented, but Dr. Mosshammer has been particularly supportive, and the editors of this site wish to take this opportunity to publicly thank him.
3 And thus able to take part in such specious feminist activities, as the Danube is well-known as a hotbed of radical thought and shoddy workmanship—even popularly referred t
o as "The Berkeley of Eastern Europe."
4 University of Darvulia Press, 1987.
5 Black Feminism, a movement which centralizes the role of the female Vampire, the succubus, in Sanguinary History, is somewhat tainted in the view of most historians due to its roots in human scholarship. In the mortal world, second-wave feminism resulted in a great deal of literature—much of which was written by women like Anna who would later be Converted, bringing this rather specialized interest into their Vampiric studies. In addition, many find it ridiculous, in light of the great Vampires of literature being predominantly male, to privilege the role of the female—in essence, placing the role of the Three Sisters over that of Dracula. However, Black Feminists trace their lineage through such actual Vampire personages as Elizabeth Bathory, Clara Geisslerin, Augusta Gordon, and Emily Draper, scoffing at any attempt to drag Dracula into serious discussions of gender in the Community. This remains a controversy which finds Anna and her colleagues at its center, however, it has been suggested that since Anna herself was Converted by a male Vampire, she ought to be more grateful to the masculine animus, and confine herself to more traditional histories.
6 The 2005 Conference will take place July 25-29 in Lodz, Poland, hosted by Plogojiwitz University. Hotels fill up quickly, so reservations are suggested.
7 Much as it was once considered beneath mortal nobility to engage in mercantile activities, it is widely asserted that for Vampires to produce their own quasi-fictional texts is vulgar in the highest degree. To speak for ourselves threatens the exposure of our entire Community, and most agree that the formulation of ridiculous and outlandish stories of bloodletting and cannibalism ought to be left to those mortal authors who find it titillating.
8 Predictably, this has caused a number of rumors to arise as to the orientation of Dr. Petrescu. While the editors of this site feel that such a subject is merely salacious and has no place in a professional biography, or in the parlor rooms of certain aged male Faculty members, they will note, without commentary, that Dr. Petrescu has co-habited with the Italian Edenite scholar Genevra Verzini in Budapest since 1995.
University of Csejthe Press
14 dr. Razvan Zeklos str., bl. 12C, 1st floor, 1st district, 011035 Bucharest | Phone: +4021.3316688 | Fax: 4021.3316689
_______________________________________________________________
CONTACT: Andrei Bogoescu, publicity@csejthepress.com
EXSANGUINATIONS
A Handbook For The Educated Vampire
by Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu
translated from the Romanian by Catherynne M. Valente
_____________________________________________________________
AN OCTOBER 2009 RELEASE
In October 2009, the prestigious University of Csejthe Press will release Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu's long-awaited work, Exsanguinations: A Handbook for the Educated Vampire. This much-discussed volume will contain a distillation of 25 years of research into the Origins, Customs, History, and Literature of the Vampire Community. It will serve both as a primer for the Newly Converted and a convenient desk reference for the experienced Dark Academic. Never before has such a variety of scholarly work been brought together in one place, and readers can look forward to a truly definitive delineation of the Vampire Culture in Dr. Petrescu's trademark simple, elegant prose.
Look for Exsanguinations at fine purveyors of Demonic Texts throughout Europe and America in October 2009.
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR EXSANGUINATIONS
"Petrescu has done it! This text will stand for many cycles of Conversion hence. There can be no finer manual for the Vampiric existence than this lovely volume, no more concise and sensitive expression of the postmodern fiend."
—Genevra Verzini
"Dare I call this the Vampiric Bible? I think I must, for no more inclusive and profound a book has yet been produced in the Community."
—Adrian Maru
To interview Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu, or to request more information about Exsanguinations or any other Csejthe Press titles, contact Csejthe Press publicity director Andrei Bogoescu at publicity@csejthepress.com.
EXSANGUINATIONS
by Anna S. Oppenhagen-Petrescu
(Non-Fiction / 978-1-59780-156-0 / $15.95 / 400 pages)
a Csejthe Press trade paperback / October 2009
to learn more visit www.csejthepress.com
Lucy, In Her Splendor
by Charles Coleman Finlay
Charles Coleman Finlay is the author of the novel The Prodigal Troll. Writing as C. C. Finlay, he has a historical fantasy trilogy called Traitor to the Crown just out from Del Rey, consisting of The Patriot Witch, A Spell for the Revolution, and The Demon Redcoat. Finlay's short fiction has appeared in several magazines and anthologies, and has been collected in Wild Things. His novella, "The Political Prisoner," is a finalist for the 2009 Hugo and Nebula awards.
Finlay says that the appeal of the vampire is about the seduction of easy, self-gratifying choices, and the prices we pay for our pleasures. "It's about the contradiction that happens when we peer at the darkness within ourselves only to find a light," he said. "I suspect that vampires are a kind of literary Rorschach test, revealing the suppressed secrets of our individual personalities and emotional states. That's why they're such a source of endless fascination."
"Lucy, In Her Splendor" is about a couple that owns a bed and breakfast on an island. What happens on the island stays on the island, even when you'd rather have it go away.
When they were done, they sat in the plastic lawn chairs by the lake and listened in the dark to waves lapping the sharp white boulders mounded along the shore.
The first moth came fluttering from the direction of the pumphouse. It slapped into Lucy's cheek almost accidentally and startled them both. She raised her hand against it and the moth settled on one white-tipped nail. As she flicked her fingertip, it lifted into the air and hurtled back at her face.
A second and a third moth followed seconds later, followed in time by others until a tiny halo of insects swirled around her short, platinum blonde hair.
"Could be worse," Martin said, trying to wave them off. "Could be mosquitoes."
She smiled at him, shifted her chair closer, and leaned against his shoulder.
"God, Lucy, you're hot," he said.
She laughed, a little sadly, making a warm vibration that resonated in his chest. "I'm glad you still think so."
"No," he said. "Are you sure you haven't turned into a bug lamp. I swear you're hot enough to zap those bugs to ashes."
"You—"
She lifted her hand to slap him, but he caught it and folded her fingers within his own. Her skin was dry, caked with grit. He gave it a little squeeze and looked around, but rows of trees blocked the view of their neighbors. More bugs flew at Lucy's head.
Her voice trembled. "I'm really sick, aren't I?"
"It's just a fever. That's all it is." He placed her hand in his lap, and tried to wave the bugs away. One of the moth's wings buzzed harshly while the stones tapped against each other in the susurration of the waves. "Let's go inside."
"I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered.
Without saying anything to reassure her, he helped her to her feet, propping her up as they strolled back to the house. When they passed the hand-carved sign that read "Crow's Nest Bed & Breakfast, Little Limestone Island," he flipped the board.
Sorry, No Vacancy.
Her fever burned all night. Martin sat on the edge of the bed, feeding her tablets of aspirin and ice chips.
A single moth had followed them inside the house, tickling Lucy out of her rest until Martin turned on the lamp and the tiny creature flew to rest, panting, on the white shade. He smashed it, leaving a smear of gray dust and wings.
Walking over to the gable window, he gazed out of their attic apartment at the lake. All their life's savings were encompassed by these few acres of land, bounded on one end by the stone jetty covered with zebra-mus
sel shells and on the other by the apple tree with the bench swing. When insects began collecting at the screen, he stepped away.