No one should be immortal

No one should be immortal

Hunting activities

Cause my fangs to bleed

Teasing me for what I need

It is cold. It is boring. It is mundane, even monotonous. It is never ending. It is dry and slow. It is ageless full of nothing to celebrate. It comes to me as a gift would be intended yet there is no gift. While it strengthens me in powers, it bores me to repeat using them. It is never slippery or full of any danger for me and therefore carries no challenges. It suggests I will adapt to an ever fast paved future, yet nothing impresses me. It is called be immortal and all it represents might as well be living dead.

This probably the main incentive behind hunting a particular model of human. Without doubt follows a long second to revenge and justice. Unraveling the mysteries of the universe could never be true. This chase of doubt seems careless and without purpose to me. I need to be in the trenches. Always have. Tis why I bite my own wrists to bleed, when I am alone and without hunting activities.

The two hidden species I have lived as, created one that I cannot escape from. Bitten as a fallen angel, near death and completely demoralized by the worlds oldest vampire apparently stands alone and without name. I am certain now that I live alone to which I have grown to call my species ‘vampter’.

Leaves me quite safe in theory. My powers, original species standing alone, private, memories of an angel and lethal as a vampire, I am ruthless, unknown of guilt yet again still left immortal.

I have had mortals beg me to bite them and bring them back as vampire. Of course these mortals I mostly never do. Their motives are childish and reasoning’s book read as though some fairy tale. If they only focused in totality and knew the truth of what I am and what I do.

I never am ill, so I need not heal. I feel no pain, therefore fear nothing physical. I close naturally fast. So much so, it would be impossible to bleed to death. I crave to a painful level the need to orgasm. I do this quickly and strongly and do not need penetration or to be touched. However I love the fumbling of a mortal, still unaware of me, trying to please me. So very few do before my patience runs out and the taste of their blood becomes a much stronger ecstasy for me. I do not gain or lose weight, suppose that has to do with a liquid diet, consistent with the amount and nutrients I need.

Rather than do what I hate is done for me, I will not assume you do not understand my point. This book is simply a start in a series of recording my kills for the sole purpose of revenge.

My journey continues, however my memory does not.

My weakness. My memory. Short term memory. Sometimes, long term. I lived as a fallen angel some 2,000 years ago and then without choice, as a vampire 1,000 years ago, rather living as both.

Once bitten, I was not stripped at the evil angel and rebel I already was. I was so weak and alone. Weak to defend myself, then alone from my group given I never did what I was told and was desperately trying to become human.

I was 15 years old. Seems so hard to imagine now. Laying to rest my wings, I have since lost. Laying in a field of dandelions weeds on a midsummer’s dream enjoying the warm soft breeze I felt and closed my eyes. My tiny old dirty dress had served me well for sometime. I was in the corner of the field clearly not inhabited or pruned by man in a very long time. The grass must have been 6 or 7 feet high and thick as my black hair..................... tbc.......