An epiphany hit me and my days as a human child came to mind. I'd been adventurous—much to the chagrin of my mother—and often doing as I thought best instead of following her instructions. I'd go off on hikes well beyond distances allowed, climb trees much taller than permitted, and jump over crevices that even adults wouldn't attempt to cross. Wild and free, I ended up with a broken leg and confined to my bed for several months. During this time, I was often asked by visitors, “Why did you do it? Why did you ignore what you'd been told by your mother?”
At first, I laughed off their questions. I'd heard that being young was an excuse to expand upon set boundaries. Exploring one's limits had consequences, but excitement as well. Yes, I had ignored my mother's restrictions and orders. My leg in a cast, I was paying the price for doing so. Many reaffirmed the need to follow her directions in the future. That became the general message conveyed. They'd become part of her army in that my acceptance of her experience might assist in keeping me from spending time laid up, or worse, in the future.
I had become my mother. Warning and threatening only came from the one in charge—no others. I had chosen to set “my children” loose, expecting them to comply. The recent acquisitions had been somewhat effective in locating and recruiting men of intelligence, but many had ignored basic commands. My older members, although not as educated, followed my commands without hesitation. Neither group, on their own, was effective in producing the army we would require. An answer comprised of common sense came to me and I asked myself, “Why don't I utilize their talents separately, instead of lumping them together?”
I had fallen victim to the viewpoint of vampires being one group of soldiers under one leader. Yet, history teaches that every great commander had his generals, advisers, support personnel, and soldiers. A complete reorganization was in order if we were to succeed.
I studied the structure of the Roman Legions, French and British military, and even the hordes of Genghis Khan. Traveling Europe, I sought descriptions for all duties and responsibilities of each position and deliberated for hours over who I should select for each slot?
During my travels, I met with those chosen for major leadership roles. My instructions were made clear and their understanding found refreshing. Happy with their advancement, each promptly began to fulfill their responsibilities.
The numbers of the fold steadily increased. My generals did the locating and planning and the soldiers the stalking and collecting. Blood frenzy events vanished. All was proceeding better than expected.
Turning my attention to successful revolutions, I discovered most revolved around the inequality of the rich and poor. Greed was a constant in all cases as both rich and poor were never satisfied. There was the “more, more, more” factor they had not learned to control. Humans had never recognized that unless all is portioned equally, greed will breed hatred and contempt in those that have little, for those that have it all. That is a fact that holds true to this day.
Europe was a constant cycle of royalty and peasants. True, middle class citizens raised themselves from the mire of the streets and hopes of possible opportunity teased the minds of the lower class. Yet, European society was condemned to a life of habit, a society that refused to learn from its mistakes. A society doomed to returning circles.
Although scoffed in public, superstitions were the one thing that could bring the public together. We creatures of the night had stopped being tales told to scare children. Instead, we became threats that were hunted and murdered while we slept. As time continued, we lost two for every new vampire we gained. Although Europe had always been my home, I decided it was time to seek other breeding ground where the danger wasn't as great.
A country had formed across the ocean by those dissatisfied with the European Royalty's increasing taxation and ridiculous demands. This nation had grown at a tremendous rate and offered freedoms unavailable in Europe. My curiosity commanded me to explore this new land. So, I bid adieu to Europe's shores and headed west.
The journey across the ocean took much longer than promised. I shipped myself in a wooden crate supplied with a sufficient amount of blood in sealed jars. I've never been one to appreciate congealed blood, but I had few options if I wanted to avoid discovery. To make matters worse, the delays caused by tumultuous seas and terrible storms, as well as several days of the doldrums, required rationing myself to the minimum needed to avoid blood frenzy. I was famished when the ship finally arrived in port.
A night watchman provided a fine meal upon my bursting from the crate later that evening. I tore at his throat and feasted on the warmth of his blood—as a wolf would a young fawn—with the illumination of a full moon casting shimmering reflections of the Delaware River upon me. Hunger sated, I sat inhaling the stimulating aromas of Philadelphia. It is my first memory of this new land. One I still cherish.
I made a slave of a lamplighter, who rented a house for me under the guise of being a traveling scholar's advance servant. My habit of sleeping during the day and only going out at night created suspicion, but I laughed it off as an eccentricity of mine to those who asked. If questioned further, I begged for discretion in keeping my skin allergy to the sun's rays a secret one—knowing this would be shared with all in the area within hours. Apart from a few rambunctious school children, my slave would chase away, I was left undisturbed.
I enjoyed evenings in the city. Although not as cultured in opera and orchestral presentations as Europe, this new land offered an entertaining and fresh approach. Traveling up to New York, a world of opportunity exceeded my expectations. New York provided a constant parade of potential members for our fold, as well as an abundant food source.
As suspected, I discovered it easier to grow my army here. The United States populace scoffed at old country superstitions and called them tales of fantasy and illusions of fiction. Naive, many found the truth too late and others now live the fantasy as one of us.
The changes I have seen in this country over the last century have been phenomenal for our growth. Perhaps the greatest help has been Hollywood’s portrayal of our kind. No longer are we regarded as the bloodthirsty killers that slink in the darkness, but rather individuals who simply wish to survive among the living. These types of movies and television series, several written by members of our fold, have created “fans” for our cause. These believers volunteer to serve us and provide for our needs. Their support has made both selection of new members and feeding much easier. Many have nighttime occupations such as club management, food preparation, hospital duties, and even security personnel. All have made it easy to merge into society.
Soon, our numbers will allow us to achieve our goal of world domination. For centuries, I'd planned on overseeing this world takeover. Yet, my desire to be the one to assemble and initiate change has left me. Perhaps, I am tired of the battles I've fought. Perhaps, I'm tired of mankind's repeated ignorance.
Vampires work endlessly for the benefit of the fold as all are deemed equally important. Man works only to increase his bank account, caring little to none of those he hurts along the way. He has learned nothing from history’s mistakes, egotistically believing he is much wiser than those preceding him. Even today, the reduction and planned elimination of the Middle Class by the rich will lead to another revolution. I wish not to see what instrument of death replaces the guillotine of old, nor the arenas that replace the town squares for the executions forthcoming.
I have named my successor. He is ready and able to accept the task. I know he will succeed. Our numbers are too great and the stupidity of mankind too prevalent. Combining vampires and human slaves in our army, our preparation has left no weakness for any result other than the one we've planned.
So, you have your story. I have no fear of you publishing it whenever you wish. The words will only be lost in the mass of hate and propaganda your media presents at the orders of your government. Your leaders do so to keep the power of those they rule divided, a distraction while they do as they please
to ensure their power and wealth stay intact. We vampires sit back, recognizing that common sense has been defeated by fear and hate, as emotions are mistaken for intelligence. That will be your final downfall. The circles will cease. Our domination will be swift.
The morning sun is struggling to make its entrance to begin a new day. See, it lightens the darkness above the mountain range. I haven't watched a sunrise in centuries. I'll cherish the sight as long as I can—before my body is consumed in flames. This is a fitting end for a creature of the night.
I thank you for being alongside. It's nice to have company. When my kind takeover, you inform them I had you along to tell the world my story the way it should be told. It will serve you well. I'm sure your death will be quick.
* * * * *
“I’m going to tell you one more story about a previous owner. This one may shock you a little. It’s not one of my favorite tales to tell.”
“So, what’s wrong with this story? Is it as bad as some of the others you’ve already told?”
“No, but with the constant focus on the living dead, I’m not sure if it will bore you,” Gabriela looked somewhat reluctant to tell me more until I pushed her further. “There’s not much to be told that hasn’t already been the plot of a television show or low budget movie.”
“Well, there hasn’t been an outbreak of a virus strain that changed the whole human race into zombies, so that can’t be a factor,” I joked.
“Those shows are so fake,” she shot back. “How anyone can believe them is beyond me. No, this is a story that took place in the ‘90’s, before all the junk hit Hollywood. If you’re interested, I’ll tell it. If not, I’ll tell you some more of the ones I’ve been told. It’s up to you.”
” Let’s hear it. I just hope I’m not sorry when you’re done.”
“You’re sorry anyway, especially that crap you used to write. Now, if you’re ready …
Cat’s Paws
Don Blevins hated driving back and forth each week. Still, the educational system in Southern Alabama was superior to that in Baton Rouge. In fact, everything was better—lifestyle, lower crime rate, less traffic, cheaper housing, even entertainment. It was as if those living in Baton Rouge believed themselves to be worthy of higher prices because of the close vicinity to New Orleans and all that city offered. In his opinion, if they didn’t have college sports to brag about, Baton Rouge was simply another bump in the road.
Three months before, he had been offered a promotion to sales manager of the Baton Rouge district. The insurance company needed good people there but couldn’t seem to find locals to fill the position. Oh, many were willing to take the job, but getting them motivated enough to do it was another story. Don had proven himself to be a great agent—conscientious and loved by all his customers. So, it was only natural for the company to offer him a promotion to retain him.
He had accepted the position, planning on moving his family there when the school year was over. He had rented a small efficiency apartment until that time. However, after getting to know the area and seeing firsthand the inflated cost of living, he and his wife agreed to keep their home in Alabama with him commuting the two hundred miles every week.
I’d been the pet of a college student for the first year of my life. Tired of having pot smoke blown in my face and going days without being fed, I booked, hoping to find another home that would better suit my needs. I was digging for food in a dumpster one muggy afternoon when Don tossed in a bag of garbage. He almost hit me with it! Not being bashful, I let him know I wasn’t too pleased.
“Did you just talk to me?” he asked, a little surprised at the words I’d used to describe him. “How did you do that?”
“Does it really matter?” I replied, still pissed. “Why don’t you get in here and I’ll toss garbage at you, so you’ll see how it feels?”
He apologized with sincerity, still somewhat shaken to be communicating with a feline. We talked a short while about my current lack of residency and my previous owner. Don surprised me when he asked, “Why don’t you come live with me? I’ve plenty of room and you won’t go hungry. You’ll have the place to yourself most of the time, be protected from the elements, and if I move, you’d be welcome to come along.”
Not having a better offer, I accepted. He had a small efficiency apartment in a place called Tiger Town, named after the university that sat up the road a mile or so. He’d leave early and get home late, always making sure I had plenty of food and water until he returned. At night, we’d play some while watching television, and sleep on a king size mattress he had lying on the floor. I did get lonely on weekends when he went to visit his family, but there was usually enough action in the complex to keep my attention at the window. Still, the time between him leaving on Friday and returning on Sunday evening dragged more and more as I found myself missing his company.
Yeah, even I can get attached.
As his primary job was training and replacing agents, he was constantly visiting different areas of the state. One day he might be in Hammond and the next New Roads. Shreveport was the furthest northern point of his responsibility, and Thibodaux or Gonzales the most southern. Obviously, he was on the road constantly.
One evening, Don came home having been in Simmesport all day. He was tired, but unusually quiet. Reading his mind, I could tell he had faced the family of a client that had passed away. No matter how hard he had tried to help them understand, their emotions ignored the facts. It was simple--no premiums paid meant no obligation of the company to pay a death benefit. The irate family turned their anger on him. Amid hostile threats of vengeance and injury, he escaped without bodily harm.
What scared me about the event was that these were bayou people, born and bred with swamp water in their veins. New Orleans may be the capital of voodoo, but most in the bayou know at least one practitioner that can cast a mean spell. I pushed him a little to tell me more about the threats made, but he refused to discuss them. I knew he was bothered, though, as he tossed and turned in his sleep all night.
A month went by without any fallout. Don gradually returned to the Simmesport area to assist his new agent. They’d been invited to eat dinner with a family and had enjoyed the meal. On the way home, the Cajun food started to play with his stomach some. By morning, even a closed bathroom door couldn’t stop the smell of his intestinal battle. Unable to function, he called into work sick--doing the same the next day. By Friday, he had weakened terribly, even forgetting to feed me until reminded … twice. When he called his wife and cancelled his weekend trip home, I knew something was wrong.
Saturday night, Don rose from bed, got dressed, and left the apartment without saying a word. When he returned, there was blood on his hands and face. He showered and went back to sleep. The next morning, he remembered nothing about his departure.
We caught the evening news, Sunday, and listened to the anchorman report another murder in the city. With its high crime rate, this was nothing new for Baton Rouge. What caught my ear was how close to us the murder had taken place. I began to worry further when the story unfolded and there was mention of part of the body being stripped of flesh. That wasn’t normal for Baton Rouge or anywhere else!
After a doctor’s visit on Monday, Don returned home and again slept until late in the evening. Supposedly, his ailment was a combination of food poisoning and an allergy to crawfish. When he woke and left the apartment well after midnight, I suspected something else might be the culprit.
I can’t say I waited patiently for his return. Sitting on the window ledge, I kept watch for several hours, hoping to see him walk up the steps in a normal state. When he finally appeared around the corner of the building, it was in a similar state to his return Saturday night. Again, a shower and bed, nothing else. His mind was blank, as if someone had erased what had taken place during his night’s excursion. It was then I had no doubt, he was under some sort of spell.
Several days he attempted to go into work but returned to the apartment
by noon. He had stopped eating, except for what I imagined he consumed during his nightly outings. Again, he called his wife on Friday, cancelling his trip home to Alabama. And, again Friday night, he left late and returned bloody.
We were awakened by a knocking at the door the next morning. Sluggishly, Don slipped on some trousers and opened it to find his wife and two daughters hollering, “Surprise!”
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Since you won’t come to us, we came to you,” his wife answered, smiling as she hugged him. “I was worried about you. I know you needed me to take care of you and help get you well. By the looks of you, I was none too soon. You look terrible!”
Don’s wife, Amanda set to work immediately, washing his clothes and sheets, mopping up the kitchen and bathroom floors and vacuuming the carpet. She even cleaned my dishes, filling them with fresh food and water. His daughters, Mollie and Karen, played with their toys and watched television most of the time, helping their mother whenever possible. Don slept most of the day, only waking when Amanda tried to make him eat.
I stayed on the window ledge most of the day. The apartment seemed plenty big for just Don and me. But, adding three more people made it seem tiny. The few times I did walk around I had to tread lightly while others rushed about. I did receive some soft petting from Amanda, but the girls wouldn’t stop tickling my ears, thinking it was funny to see my head jerk about. It was a relief when Amanda had them lay out their sleeping bags and pillows and go to sleep.
Lights out, I left the ledge and took my place on the bed—careful not to awaken Amanda. The day had been the most hectic one I had experienced since leaving the student and I was exhausted. Sleep came quickly.
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