Vlad's blog: Confessions of a vampire

Friday, July 29th

I don't know how you found yourself here.

Maybe you followed a link, thinking to yourself...

"What the fuck is this shit? One more blog from a suicidal teenager looking for attention... Probably an emo kid with a ridiculous, overgrown bangs ; dressed in black from head to toe, like he was grieving for the entire human race ; painted with more khôl on his pallid skin than the saddest clown ; choking his neck with studded collars, like a pug trying to look fierce before his first real fight ; wearing leather arm bands, too wide for his frail wrists; perched on metal platform boots that even the queerest drag-queen would refuse, even if the rights of the LGBT community depended on it..."

Maybe you didn't have anything else to do—nothing more interesting or constructive, anyway. Maybe there were no more life-changing tweets to share, no more Look-At-My-Wonderful-Enpty-Life photographs to like on Facebook, no more home-made, embarrassing YouTube videos to green-thumb...

Maybe you were just curious or sincerely interested.

It doesn't matter.

This blog is not for you. Don't leave any comments, I won't answer them. I don't give a shit about your opinion. I'm talking to you, but these lines are not intended for you. You can judge me if you like. Maybe you won't be able not to. Maybe it's what I deserve. But, It doesn't change anything ; not anymore. It's too late, now...

This is a confession, but I write it for myself. I write it in the vain hope of saving what's left of my soul—if it's even possible.

I write to find redemption, if there is such a thing...

...

You're still here?

Let me explain, then -- explain what pushed me to create this page. Let me tell you about the events that opened my eyes. Let me describe to you the reason for my repentance.

The reason is 22 years old. She has raven black hair cascading down her narrow shoulders. She has green eyes that shine when she cries. She has white teeth that illuminate her face when she smiles. She has a soft voice that sometimes flies away in melodic laughter. She has the body of a woman, but a baby's soft skin.

She has...

She had.

She was perfect... I loved her.

I loved her, but I killed her. I couldn't do otherwise. I could no longer resist the urge, suppressed for so long because she trusted me. After all that time, I killed her. All that time spent watching her when she didn't even know I existed. All that time spent protecting her without letting her feel my presence. All that time spent earning her trust, and, step by step, her love.

Months of a chaste and wonderful passion. Months during which I discovered feelings again, feelings I thought were lost for good. Months hoping I could change at last, become... human again.

But last night... Everything fell apart.

It was late when I arrived, and the whole family was asleep. Only the dog felt my presence and growled at me. I reassured him of my intentions. I was not a threat—or so I believed.

I crept into her room through the window. She had left it open for me.

She thought it was romantic.

She was waiting for me, lying on her bed. She was naked, as she had promised. For a while, I didn't dare disturb her slumber -- I just enjoyed this vision. Her wavy hair, like a crown on her pillow ; her full lips, slightly parted on an even breath; her small, firm breasts, going up and down following the hypnotic rhythm of her respiration ; her delicate hand, resting on her flat, creamy belly ; the adorable hump of her smooth mons veneris, and lower, the incendiary hollow of her sex ; her long legs, casually spread, hesitating in their invitation... An offered woman in the little girl's room she grew up in.

I hesitated for a long time. Was I the one meant to steal her virginity? Was I the one meant to take her innocence away?

She must have felt my presence, however invisible. She opened her eyes. Her heart started to beat faster. Harder. Louder...

I was lost then... She was doomed.

The hammering sound filled my ears. I forgot her erotic flesh as the regular flow pumping through her veins flooded my mind. Hunger replaced desire. Instinct replaced love.

I took her into my arms. I buried my face in her neck. I whispered a vain apology and dug my fangs into her carotid.

I took her life silently.She didn't scream. Maybe she knew all along how it would end. Maybe she was not the naive one after all.

...

Nah! Just kidding!

You really believed it, huh? All that mushy bullshit... You like it so much...

It makes me want to puke.

My last conquest? I matched with her on Tinder two days ago. She was a tall blonde with huge tits and a flat ass. I don't even remember her name.

I took her to a fancy club and I didn't even need to push her. She sloshed herself up like a sailor and I watched her prance around, half naked on the dance floor, for a good part of the night.

Around 3AM, she took me back to her place, a tiny, depressing flat downtown. She was already trying to suck my cock before we even reached her doorstep.

I ripped her clothes off without a single complaint from her. The cunt even laughed. Her slutty dress was worthless anyway. The branded bra was obviously expensive, but so tacky. As for her panties... What panties?

She threw herself on the bed on all fours, whispering a dramatic « break me! » that remained ineffective. Her face became that of a pouty little girl for a second. Then, she lifted up her ass, like a bitch, and started to sway it from left to right. Another whore, raised with porn, without any clue about the meaning of eroticism.

I came closer, slowly, and flipped her over without effort. She giggled when she landed on her back. Her breasts were sagging on both sides of her chest, jiggling like jelly. I grabbed her knees and spread her legs bluntly. I kneeled between them and she stopped laughing, anticipating my mouth over her swollen slit, soaked despite the alcohol.

I tore her thigh and spat out a mouthful of fat flesh. Her femoral artery exploded, spraying blood all over my face. My kind of squirter!

She hiccupped, eyes wide out of surprise and incomprehension. She started to whine when her brain finally registered the pain signals sent by her ravaged thigh. She screamed when she saw me lick my chops and dive between her legs to feed on her life. It didn't take long.

...

And tonight, I'll find another one. Man or woman, I'm not picky. You have to eat, right? And after all, I'm not as hypocritical as you are. I hunt my food, instead of lazily waiting to be served a slice of mystery meat. At least I don't forget where my meat comes from, how it's killed, how it's butchered. I'm the one doing all of that. Happily.

But for now, I need some rest. I'll leave you be for a while.

Have a good day, cattle...