[The story is based on Anne Rice's Interview With The Vampire the AMC series]
During the 1870s and '80s, it gave rise to the Industrial Revolution which paved way to the concept of capitalism dominated by social elites: the aristocrats - who played...
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"SO YOU TALKED to a Mayfair."
His monotone voice with a hint of vexation rang to my ears, making me flinch and roll my eyes. "Well, if you came back early to me, then I wouldn't have talked to him, Lestat."
He was suddenly beside me. Both of us were watching the guests mingle and dance in front of us with our mean faces. "I've been here longer than you, Tala. And I tell you, avoid the Mayfairs."
"You've only been here for 2 years Lestat. Don't be dramatic."
"It's enough time to know the Mayfairs are weird and creepy."
"That's coming a lot from an immortal vampire." I sneered.
But Lestat was serious. "I've seen things. And I don't want to talk about it."
"Come on. Mayfairs are just mortals like the rest of them. What could they possibly do wrong?" Then I spotted the racist uncle of Zacharias talking to some women. I smiled wickedly. "Well, on the other hand, I can definitely make them do something wrong."
I stared at him deeply, trying to reach his mind. Then, with intense concentration, I was able to grasp his head like a puppeteer.
I watched as Zacharias' uncle walk into the middle of the dance floor while everyone else was waltzing. He was the only one who's not moving, so he stood out from the rest of them. Then, in everyone's horror, he pulled down his pants and showed them his saggy hairy ass then pushed out a ground-breaking loud fart that echoed throughout the place, overpowering the music, and rendering the people speechless.
Some laughed in amusement, and in ridicule, while some judged him with such distaste; and the whole room was alive again with a new gossip to talk about.
"Whoa, I could smell his lunch earlier."
"Brenton Mayfair is drunk again."
"Why is he even here? I heard he's the black sheep of the family."
"Brenton Mayfair should be with Jocasta in a mental asylum. Both are off the rails."
This was good. His public fart and the mayor's wife's public rampage slowly erased the memory of the rumor about me. Lestat was right. Aristocrats were shallow.
"See? I could manipulate him like anyone else. He's nothing but a mortal." I pointed out to Lestat.
"Be careful, Tala." He warned. "Don't underestimate enemies. It's always been the reason why you lose in chess."
"He just farted." I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes again. "How is this related to chess?"
"Stop messing around, Tala. You need to see that life is a chess game. It's the battle of the wits. One wrong move, you lose."
"Whatever. I need a drink." Then I felt my pale violet eyes dilate in excitement. "A real drink."
Lestat grabbed my arm, stopping me from further moving. "Not here."
