Melchizedek James

It’s been weeks since my last post.  I spent some time traveling Europe and the Middle East, specifically Israel. In between provinces I hunted a beautiful lady for which I spared her life only to take her to Count Dracula as a gift.  However, I did enjoy a few bloody, tasty treats along the way.  The French do make a delicious meal which satisfies the vampire palate and brings joy to my soulless heart.  It must be the rich French cuisine for which they nourish their bodies.  It’s true what nutritionist say, “You are what you eat.”

I paid the count a visit to share with him my discovery of the vampire book, the Book of Judas Iscariot.  Yes!  The book exists and I have discovered it’s location. It was an Indian Jones like adventure fraught with vampire hunters, passionate collectors, greedy informants and murdering priests.  I came close to becoming extinct several times and discovered a new vampire ability.

At least, I can rule out any link between Bella Swan as the unholy mother of Judas for his prophesied incarnation.  That was just fanciful speculation without the facts.  Those facts I now possess and need Dracula’s advice as to what to do with this new found knowledge.  Of course, I didn’t tell Dracula everything, since we are by nature, untrustworthy creatures, but I need an ally in this dark world we inhabit and Drac is a powerful ally.  Things are going to get much worse.

Once I recover the book I will turn it over to Professor Cristian to interpret it, then keeping him alive will be a bit of challenging once the book has been interpreted.  Dracula may put an end to the professor’s life unless we come to a blood bond with an agreement no harm comes to the professor.  For now he is safe because we both need his unique research skills and interpretation.

Though I’ve discovered it’s location there is the matter of recovery.  I need to find a Levite of Aaron’s bloodline to help me recover it and I haven’t a clue as to how to find an Aaronic Levite.  Thus, my need for the good professor’s assistance to refer me to one of his Jewish colleagues in the Holy Land.

I like being a vampire.

Her scent drifted in the early morning air as she she walked along the sidewalk near the water’s edge.  Her shoes tapped on the concrete with harmonic echoes, drawing my attention from the shadows where I watched.  The spicy wood and licorice scent of Lolita Lempicka perfumed the air, blended with salty sweat and a taint of blood which permeated from her creamy skin.  Her raven hair flowed to her shoulders in long waves and glimmered in short. twinkled bursts of light as she strolled under the street lamps.  A low, guttural growl escaped my lips and self-control ebbed away into blood lust.

I stepped out of the shadows and she startled.

“I apologize my dear.  I didn’t mean to frighten you.”  Actually, I did.  The hunt had begun…

I’ve been quite busy hunting, feeding, and seeking.  I’ve also taken a stab at poetry.  More details later, but for now I’m trying to throw a vampire hunter of my trail.

I’ve been catching up on a bit of research with Prof. Xavier Cristian.  There have been some interesting developments regarding the whereabouts of the Betrayer’s book.  It appears I will be traveling overseas to recover the Book of Judas Iscariot.

I paid Willie a visit.

Willie was a childhood bully who taunted me during my junior high school years.  I never stood up to him and his bullying had an effect upon my life before I was turned.  He made me into pusillanimous man and I hated him for it.

Recent events reminded me of Willie evoking long forgotten memories and feelings of how he made me feel before I became the monster I am.  I embarked upon a quest to locate him and found him residing in Bakersfield, CA.  Road trip.  I reside in a small city in California and Bakersfield is only a few hours away from my lair.  The road trip would be on the back of a Harley.

I’ll spare the gory details, but I found Willie and was delighted he was happily married man.  I knocked on his door, introduced myself and was also pleased he recognized me.  He apologized for his treatment towards me when we were kids.

I slaughtered his family in front of him, but let him live.  ”Apology accepted.”

Letting him live may have been a mistake.

Philosophers, vampire hunters, clergy have debated for centuries whether the vampire is soulless and beyond redemption.

In comparison to the population of the world, we are relatively few, but we occupy many positions among humans.  In terms of history and contrary to belief, our species is quite young, having originated from Judas Iscariot, the Betrayer of the Christ.

One vampire resides in Vatican City and serves as priest in the Catholic church.  He was a priest before he was turned and after a few centuries of living the bloody, vampire life he sought his refuge at the Vatican.  He revealed himself to the pope who believed vampires were a species of humans and let the vampire resume his priesthood.  There’s more the story than that, but his reinstatement into the priesthood was the catalyst for the centuries old debate about the vampire’s soul.

Incidentally, the Vampire Priest is the oldest vampire living amongst us having been turned by the Betrayer shortly after the inception of the Catholic Church. When Vatican City was founded the Vampire Priest sought his redemption.

He hasn’t ingested a drop of blood since.  His nourishment comes from periodic blood transfusions.

The argument is if we have a soul, then we have a conscience,; and if we have a conscience, then we can make moral choices.  It we can make moral choices, then we can be judged; therefore, if we can be judged, then we can be redeemed.  Some say, the Betrayer turned the priest in order to seek out the answer.

My particular philosophy is we are mere creatures on level plane with animal predators and live by instinct and not conscience.  The difference between the vampire and the animal predator is we possess an intelligent instinct to reason while animals possess a survival instinct to live.  Regardless, we are both driven by the instinct to hunt and kill.  To survive.  We just think more about our instinct to survive.  It’s a very thin line.

The vampire soul is myth.

Walking past a high school one late afternoon, I witnessed a group of boys bullying another boy.  I stopped to watch the ordeal unfold.

A large boy, whose size regulated him more to a man rather than a boy, poked the smaller boy in his chest with  his big, beefy finger.  The smaller boy stepped back each time he was poked until he bumped into another boy, one of the bully’s friends, who pushed him back towards the beefy bully.

The boy was scared, near tears yelling at the bully to leave him alone.  This, of course, garnished laughter from the other five boys who were taunting him and only encouraged the bully.  Eventually, the scuffle moved out of sight and I heard the distinct sound of fist hitting flesh and bone.

Astonishingly, memories of my childhood flooded back to me during a time I was bullied.  Willie was the name of my nemesis who bullied me during my junior high school years and I never stood up to him.  The unfortunate experience carried on into my adult years and was the catalyst for my attempted suicide.  Feelings of being that scared boy, afraid to fight back, came rushing back causing a conflict within my vampire mind.

I hadn’t felt fear since I was turned, in fact, it is safe to say I don’t fear anyone or anything.  Men fear me.  The fear of those days were more intense than ever which made me think I still held a childish grudge against Willie.  Ridiculous.

The repressed memory of being bullying caused me to instinctively rush to the boy’s aide.  It wasn’t more than just a thought before I stood behind the bully and grabbed his cocked fist.

The bully spun around.

“Who are you?”

I looked at the boy cowering on the ground.  ”A friend of the boy.”  I stepped forward towards the bully, poked him the chest and said, “May I suggest you leave him alone.”

He slapped my hand and said, “You can’t touch me, asshole.  You’re an adult and I’m still a minor.”

Anger burned through my veins and it took every bit of strength to suppress the overwhelming urge to kill the bully, but that would have been unwise.  I took in a deep breath, then with lightning speed, I grabbed the bully by his collar and lifted him off the ground.  I drew him close to my face, opened my mouth and let him watch my canines extend to their full length.  He wet his pants.

‘If I should ever see you bully this boy again, or anyone for that matter, I will pay you, and your family a late night visit and slowly, methodically kill each one of them as you watch.”

I released my grasp and the bully crumpled to the ground like a baby curled up in the fetal position.  His friends ran for their lives.  Kneeling next to the other boy, I helped him up.  He picked up his things, including a broken iPod, then looked at his crumpled nemesis.

He kicked him in the gut.

“Who are you?’  he asked.

I didn’t want to become friends with this boy, so I said, “The boogeyman of your nightmares” and displayed my toothy grin.  I bit my lip a little to draw some blood and let it drip down my chin.

“I wish I had your powers.  Thank you mister.”  He walked away from me, unafraid of my theatrics.

Interesting.  My young, potential prey saw me as his hero.  It has caused a conflict within my dark heart.  I thought I wasn’t subject to human frailties of emotion, but here I stand reacting out of  repressed fear and anger from the shadows of a long forgotten bully.

I paid Willie a visit.