In the days before computers, Iwas essentially swapping my basic PC hard drive for the size,speed, and massive processing power of a mainframe computer. Butthe transformation was a gradual process, as I quickly found outwhen my eyes opened and the new world was simply black.
My balance was askew, which madeit difficult for me to stand up and find my way. After tripping onthe oval wood table in front of me at least three times, I crawledto the bathroom where I was able to light a candle after strugglingto find a spark.
My world was so hazy until thefaint light pained my crusty eyes as I rubbed them furiously withmy fists to gain a clearer self-image in the mirror. My rebootedbrain was still experiencing some rough patches and images of abeast with shiny, sharp teeth flashed across my mind as if that wasthe reflection I was looking at in the mirror.
I grew excited as my pulsequickened, breathing heavier by the moment like I was running awayfrom someone or something. When the frightening image faded and myvision cleared, although my eyes were still red and burning, itbecame apparent that my neck was severely cocked to the leftside.
I reached upinstinctively with both hands and violently snapped my neck backinto place. The dramatic body realignment combined with my stillfragile state as a newbiecaused me to pass out and collapse in a heap onthe floor.
Days came and went and I hadn’tmoved from the same position – pancaked flat on my back. This timearound, my inactivity was accompanied by breath, and breath wasguided by a virtual training manual playing as the main feature inmy mind.
Scenes of unsuspecting men andwomen shockingly looking into the eye of a creature while itdevoured them from the neck were interwoven with a life portrayedas one that was constantly in motion, constantly on therun.
While the pursuer was neverpresented in a distinct manner, the ally was: the mammalian beingwas part man, part evolutionary wonder.
My subconsciouswas treated to a lengthy reel of the evolutionary tract ofcetaceans – from their early days as hoofed creatures withtriangular teeth like wolves, to cat-like creatures, to earlyvariations of the hippopotamus, to bottlenose dolphins and Orca,the killer whale,which is the largest species of dolphin. The hybrid mammal also hadthe ability to convert to a smaller aquatic mammal, capable ofdiving into water and hiding beneath the surface to avoid birds ofprey.
The images left me feeling safeand protected until I spent the last 24 hours viewing footage ofhis natural enemy, the hunter. Hunters had also evolved from Homosapien warriors to beings capable of combating adversaries both onland and in the sky. The loop that kept playing over and over againwas that of a man running through a forest clearing and changinginto an angry pit bull, and then a powerful ram as it picked upspeed, and then a huge grizzly bear with knife-like claws capableof running at speeds up to 30 miles per hour, and then the massivewing span of a hawk capable of picking up small animals with itshook-like talons.
After eachiteration, the ending image was one of the beach and morespecifically, the ocean, and the word SAFETY flashing on the screen. Thehunters were physiologically-designed to combat the vampires, withtheir full set of evolutionary incantations, but they had not fullyevolved. But years of being thrown through the rinse cycle was finally paying off,proving that through strife comes change.
AWAKE
I was alwayswith my son and my wife, even if I wasn’t physically present inwith them. You could say that as a vampire I was theirblood shadow, becauseblood shadows are often referred to as ghosts of beings that giveno physical indication of their presence but, corporeally, they arevery much around.
The next one hundred years-or-sowere pure torture, except for the random acts of blood-letting andviolence that made me one of the most feared disruptive forces ofmy generation.
My life of vampirism startedfairly innocently, as blood-thirsty creatures go. I was on my backand playing the part of the three-day download for days. Before thechange, I had a daily ritual of taking a walk down the street everyafternoon to fetch a newspaper from a local tobacco purveyor, andthen I would stop next door at Mrs. Wilcox’s house for a bakedgood, or two, before heading home. Unless, of course, I was out oftown traveling with my family.
Mrs. Wilcox was 60 years old andhad battling the early stages of Alzheimer ’s disease. To say thatshe forgot her own name some days would be an exaggeration, butthere were definitely gaps in her life that went permanentlymissing from the memory bank. It had been two weeks since Thomas,as she called me, had stopped by and the scones were starting topile up because Mrs. Wilcox had not stopped baking.
It had been years since she hadbeen in my residence, but one lonely afternoon she decided to seewhat was going on with her only friend. The truth was that even ifshe made it back on the street that night, it would have been along shot if she would have found her way home.
A faint knock on the door gotthings started, but barely made a dent in my deep slumber on thebathroom floor. Repeated attempts from Edna Wilcox’s brittle andslightly-discolored hands also went on deaf ears, so she looked forsomething more substantial to pound on the door. She managed tolocate a five-inch-round rock but tried the civilized approach onemore time before resorted to force.
“Thomas? Thomas, are you in there?This is Edna Wilcox!” she yelled straining her lungs, which causedher to cough painfully for about 10 seconds. She thought abouttapping the rock against the door with both hands, but it flew outof her grasp about mid-way to the door causing a loud“Thud!”
The sound servedas a spark that lit the fuse of a keg of dynamite. Edna Wilcoxstood in front of the door admiring a dent that was her handiwork,as my eyes opened and burned
