A Wonderul Life

I know what I deserve and it’s not a poke in the nose with a
rusty fork.
Walking into the old neighborhood was like walking into the
exclusion zone of Chernobyl. I was just waiting for my brain cells
to implode and the skin to start peeling away from my flesh. Of
course, then I’d fit right in with these derelict buildings.
The crumbling structures cast overlapping shadows, an abstract
penumbra fashioned from the amber glow of outdated streetlamps.
The turbulent noise of the city crept in, it’s anger tempered by distance,
for this neighborhood held quiet vigil on this darkest night.
The stars were remote; no moon looked down upon the world.
The street was empty of traffic and life. Whether the inhabitants
cowered in their hovels with loved ones or their drugs of choice, it
did not matter to me. A frigid wind blew on this autumn evening
but that didn’t bother me either.
Did anyone even live here anymore? Of course they must. They
have no choice. Where else could they afford to live? Third world
problems in the first world. My childhood home swept under the
carpet with all the other unmentionables. Wouldn’t want people to
know what reality looked like.
But who am I to talk about deception. It’s been my calling card
for the last forty years though no one would believe it. No, not
with my fresh face all radiant with youth. I am in truth the ultimate
unmentionable.
Christ, what am I doing here? The end of the world and I feel
compelled to spend it at the edge of civilization. If only they hadn’t
come looking for me. They may as well have been carrying pitchforks
and burning torches but no, it was equipment, cameras and
other recording contraptions made specifically to capture my kind,
the uncanny.
* * *
They came late at night to the old plantation house hidden in
the sultry depths of Louisiana. Just walked in and started making
themselves at home. Secreted in the dusty attic like vermin, I spied
upon them as they invaded my sanctuary. It was hardly a relic
being fully furnished with comfort and opulence. But do they even
knock? No, for they have heard that the famed vampire lives here
therefore they may trespass with impunity, wave their devices about
like talismans and leave their filthy footprints all over my floors
with complete disregard for history. If they can’t respect me then
you would think that they would at least respect the grandeur of
the estate.
“We just want to talk with you. Our equipment will help us
do that. We’ve come a long way to meet you,” said the bald man
wearing a ridiculous deerstalker.
Oh, well by all means, at your disposal. How would he feel if I
entered his home uninvited? Would his children be tasty little tots?
Would his wife find me exotic? Would they offer me a Bloody Mary?
I considered interacting with them, if only for the sake of
amusement.
“Please come out and talk to us,” said the young woman. Her
russet hair flowed down to the tips of her breasts and shimmered
as her fingers pushed it back from her alabaster face. Her accent
awakened an awareness of a place long ago, barely a memory. I
felt drawn to her. “We won’t hurt you.”
Hurt me? Was she insane? You walk the manor of the vampire
and calmly tell it that you won’t hurt it? What am I, a feral puppy?
I wanted to devour her and she treated me like some shy ghostly
remnant.
They were incredibly frustrating. Were they too ignorant to
be afraid? I hate to admit it but I ended up finding a dark, quiet
corner where I could fold in upon myself and reflect on how the
world had changed.
Unfortunately, it did not end there. More strangers came and
not all of them were as polite as the original intruders. Marble floors were scratched, antique vases broken. One fool even yelled at me.
“Hey, bloodsucker, get your ass out here and face me like a
man! Why ya hidin’? Think you’re the tooth fairy?” He laughed and because he laughed the idiot brigade he brought with him laughed. I’m surprised they didn’t bring a keg.
He deposited his backside onto one of my Georgian club chairs,
completely unappreciative of its soft, tawny leather. He pounded
the arms in an irreverent manner and with a smug look on his face
bellowed, “Vampire’s lair looking pretty ratty!”
Ratty indeed. He’ll be food for the rats if he’s not careful.
The harsh lights they’d brought with them accented the flaws
in his skin, a scar, some pock marks highlighting an otherwise dull
face. He dressed in black, t-shirt and jeans, his sense of style lacking any personality which might make up for his bereft good looks.
A corner of his mouth curled up as he asked, “So, what’s your
name? Mine’s Daniel.” Squinting towards the ceiling he added,
“Count Dracula? Count Chocula?” He jumped out of the chair,
“What the hell is it?”
“Hey, Daniel, I think I heard something upstairs,” said one of
the lackeys in a stage whisper.
“You gonna talk to us or do we have to stake you out?” With
that he bounded up the stairs. At the landing he stopped and shouted,
“What, are you too busy sparkling to come out and greet your
guests?”
The “sparkling” comment was clearly drivel but I didn’t care
for the way in which he’d emphasized the word "stake" nor the implication that I had invited them here as my guests.
I breathed deeply and was immediately enveloped by the fragrance
of man. The old hunger coursed through my body, making
me tremble with anticipation, almost tasting the claret of his life.
Enticing, even if it was essence of dimwit.
The following night I hunted him down to a flea-trap motel
and, as he walked to his car for some forgotten item, I introduced
myself to him.
“George, my name is George,” I said as he dangled from my
grip. “You try to bully nemesis? I will drag you to hell!” I saw it
in his eyes, the moment when realization hit. Vampires are real!
He tasted like rubbing alcohol. Disgusted, I broke his neck and
flung his corpse far away from me. God only knows what he’d eaten for dinner. I spit out his blood. But at least he will never shout at anyone again. Unfortunately, that startled expression will stay on
his face until he turns to jelly. Or until the world ends, whichever
comes first. What some people will do for ratings.
I eventually realized that there was no choice but to leave my
beloved adopted home. By this time the astronomers had discovered
that little issue in the sky. They named it Karma. At first they
pretended that it would be a flyby but the truth got out. It always
does. I was beginning to feel a pull anyway; a tug within what some would call a soul, guiding me back to where I’d been born. It had been so very long and I had put that ghost of a life behind me. Or so I had thought.
* * *
So this is how I spend my final hours, in the junkyard of humanity.
It won’t make a bit of difference where anyone is when Karma
hits. Bam! Everyone is dead. Well, there’s nothing I can do about
it. It just seems so unfair. I wanted to see the future and I don’t
mean the future I’d have seen anyway but the distant future, the
one I was promised, the future beyond a mortal cycle. I wanted to
view life from outside the confines of time. I wanted to dance in a
millennium that considered mine savage. I wanted to live forever.
“Last night on planet Earth and you stand here whining.” I
turned and there stood my maker, Sergei, a reflection of a finer age
set against the urban vestiges of New York. “What will I do with
you, George?” he asked.
A light breeze stirred his long pale hair as he regarded me. His
fair skin glowed, almost luminescent. When we first met he had
told me how much he admired my darker, no, he called it “burnt
gold” skin. I was flattered; I should have been suspicious.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” I said.
“Here I am,” he smiled. “Though unlike you I have not sought
to eradicate my accent.”
He walked towards me as if he had no cares, as though this
night were eternal. As if he saw beauty in it.
“The night is beautiful, as are you.”
“Look around you. I am to die in squalor,” I said.
“So melodramatic. Can you not read the poetry in these ruins?”
“All I see is the decay of civilization.”
“You are very negative,” he frowned. “You never have fun,
child. You have not cultivated perspective.”
“I haven’t had time to cultivate anything more than a thirst.”
“Forty years wasted.” His shook his head as if he were a parent
faced with a badly behaved child.
“You’ve had more than four hundred!”
At this Sergei wrapped his arms around me and held me for
a moment then leaned back and said, “It’s good to see you too,
George.”
He tilted his head in that irritatingly affectionate manner he
had. I refused to lower my eyes.
“Yes, you deserved better,” he said at last, walking past me into
the street. “But you know things don’t always work out the way
you planned, even in different circumstances.” He waved his arms
towards the obscure night sky.
He was within my personal space so fast a breath could not
have passed. He smiled because he knew that I could not keep my
thoughts from him.
“Things change. Life changes. People change. You must adapt.”
I felt the breeze from his words caress my lips.
“A little late for that, don’t you think?”
“You insist on ruining this, our final night together?”
“Maybe if you’d sent word that you were coming I could have
arranged to be in a better mood.” I didn’t mean the sting and yet I
did. My eyes began to tear as I pushed Sergei from me. He landed
several yards away. He rose, brushed the dirt from his tailored
clothes, and looked at me without moving any closer.
“My joy, there is nothing I can do. You had forty years as a
twenty year old man. Isn’t that enough? Some don’t have that.”
“I want more,” I whispered, and turned away, unable to face
him.
“Everybody wants more. We get what we’re given,” his voice
softened as though he were disappointed. “You have changed.”
“In the superficial ways,” he continued. “They were always
important to you. I didn’t realize how important until just now.
But inside,” he stood in front of me and put his hand firmly upon
my chest. “Inside you are still a twenty year old boy. You never
matured. One of the unfortunate truths for the vampire is that he
matures emotionally at a slow rate. It would be much better had
it been otherwise.”
“What difference does it make now?” I slumped to the sidewalk
uncaring of its filth. Sergei crouched next to me, looking towards
the broken front wall of the nearest building.
“Here, kit kit,” he called softly as he held out his hand.
First I saw the little pink nose, and then a golden eye and a
furry ear peeked around the crumbling blocks and mortar. Sergei
teased the cat with sweet sounds until it came out into the open.
Not even an adult, the cat was thin and its calico fur was matted
with dirt. But it crossed the sidewalk, rubbed against Sergei’s leg
and allowed him to pet it.
“I’m not eating that,” I said.
“I don’t intend you to,” he said frowning. He appeared to be
listening for something, his eyes distant, his attention distracted.
He ran into the tall, dense weeds which grew next to an abandoned
market so quickly he was all but invisible. He returned with
a dead rat in his fist. He offered it to the cat as alms and it immediately began to feed, delighted sounds coming from deep within its throat.
I looked at him as though he had lost his mind.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why not allow that poor creature a last supper? Not everything
is about you.”
I got up and made my way along the sidewalk, not as though
I were going somewhere but just the opposite. Where did I have
to go?
Sergei came up from behind me just as I stepped under a streetlight
and put his arm around me in a brotherly fashion.
“We have now, George. We will go together.”
I wanted to cry but lurched away from him instead. He stood
there looking at me. Then he held out his hand and beckoned with
his fingers. The light turned off.
”Come. We will watch Karma rise,” he said, his eyes reflective
in the dark.
I let the tears fall. What difference did it make? We were all
bare souls anyway. All that matters is that we are not alone.
Sergei put his arm around my waist and we flew up to the
rooftop of what was left of a tall building.
“We need not fear it any longer,” he said and we both looked
towards where the sun was rising over the tattered skyline in a host
of glorious pastels. “It is not the end of life but the beginning of
our eternal resonance throughout the universe.”
Just as my skin started to burn, it cooled. There was no sound.
Not one insect sang. A black orb began to cover the sun. It moved
quickly as though it was an eclipse but this celestial event did not
cross the sun. The planet Karma traveled towards earth, growing
larger as it neared. It looked like a huge black hole had opened up
in the sky. I felt as though I would fall headlong into it, entering a
doorway into another life. I knew at that moment that I was a part
of the cosmos, a true element of nature. This was not an ending.
We lifted our arms as we rose to greet the dawn of the new day.