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I've watched you through out the centuries, give birth to yourself and die. You have been a saint and a sinner. A church going homemaker, dressed in your pretty dresses and curly hair, and a fast paced business man, too busy for god. You have lived life's of decadence, and many more that were deprived. You have been a Shao Lin munk in China, and a pampered wife in ancient Greece. Other times, you wandered the streets, strung out in the rain with a hat slung low over your eyes to hide the tears that the owner of the gallery had refused your works. Others, you clung to the arms of a sultan, dressed scantily, revealed breasts dangling with beads. You have been all. Male, female, good, evil, dark, and light. And I have watched them all.
Around the 1910's I became weary, as many of my kind do, and lowered myself deep into the earth, hidden in a coffin--silk lined and warm. I stayed curled up and unaware inside, the heat of the ground pulsing and protecting as I dozed and lost you. When I awoke once more, the world had changed. The century had come and gone. Sleek cars roamed the streets, and lights glittered hideous, neon messages. There had been a depression, two world wars, a slaughter of the innocence in Vietnam, and human boys were being shipped to the Middle East to fight a war over the black blood of the planet.
Whores traversed the streets openly. A decay of morals had ridden the society, and I watched as I walked down the lonely night streets as boys as young as eleven sold drugs, a few shooting themselves up. I caught a rather beautiful female, who welcomed my kiss of death with open arms and grateful tears, and before the darkness over came her, she whispered words that I had never heard while feeding before.
"Thank you."
I realized I had slept through so much, and had awoken in the generation of desperation. I knew I had to find you then. I slipped along, staring at veterans of Vietnam and Desert Storm they walked down the streets, yapping blindly to their memories and ghosts of the pasts. I met up with one who had a 90-yard gaze that could kill and was locked in anomie so deep he barely heard your words. When a car backfired as some drunken teens tore out of a party store, he threw himself behind a trashcan, yelling, "They're comin for us Charlie! I know they are!"
I felt a tinge of sympathy. It was sad to see what humans were doing to themselves.
I continued wasteland of a civilization, searching for you. Knowing somewhere, I would find you. I watched the lights of the city flicker, slipping into the sewers at night and finding a small niche to sleep in. Rather unlike me, but there was no place to keep my coffin at the moment--and I didn't much care to find it anyways. You were more important than my own comfort. As the weeks turned to months, I began to contribute my fair share to the downfall of this new age. To make the money I used to travel, I would not only remove what I could from my victims, but began to slip drugs to needy hands as well. Why not join the crowd and feed the desire? It wasn't as if it was affecting my people.
I searched and searched, swimming through the air thick with the feces that was this generation, created from their parents and grandparents by them chewing up their sins and shitting them out in the personification of agony that was their progeny. Everything was desperate. Everything was lost. But nobody seemed to care.
And then...then I found you.
You were a young boy, trapped in the bleak world, only fifteen. Like the entire environment that had become Earth, you were sunken in and gray, skin a bit too tight over the cheeks and a pasty color of dead flesh. Your eyes were lost and tear filled, your skin covered in burn scars from where your real father had burned you with an iron after raping you, claiming that you were "a pussy boy". Claiming you needed to learn to act more like a woman. You were a mistake by your teenage parents who had given you to the system after that event, and you had fallen through. They had given up on you, long ago lost your records and forgot who you were for a few grand to a greedy social worker.
In turn, you had been sold as part of the secret slave trade that was part of the great country known as America. You had been bought by many masters, filmed for fetish videos in Japan, used as a Cherry Blossom Boy in China, and then, at fifteen, too old to appeal to many appetites, sent back to the US for half the price you were sold for. You were dead inside. A boy who had been a grown up by five, an old man by ten, and dead by fifteen. The epitome of this new world.
I had enough.
You watched me approach--the dark god who wandered the shadows, with raven hair. A tall man, wearing a cloak and clothing of the early 1900's. With the glint of the devil in his eyes and fire in his soul. You cringed back in fear before standing up from where your master had told you to sleep on the dog bed, and ran towards me, into my arms, and I lifted you into them and against me, holding you tight to me in a crushing hug. At last. At last you were home.
I never bothered to kill the man. Instead, I found my old friends and those who I had sired to become one of us, and told them of his existence and that he was fair play. And you became my heir, I your sire and master. And now, instead of watching you die. Instead of seeing you become many different people and suffer, you sit beside me, at my right hand, head against my chest or resting firmly in my lap.
They say that vampires have no soul. But instead, it is the opposite. We have no bodies to corrupt. No mind to control us. We are all soul, all feeling and need. We live by our desires and our loves and hates. We are capable only of those things. Feel them stronger than humans ever could. And now finally, with you as one of my own, by my side forever, you finally know what will always be true.
I love you.
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