Stranded

Visiting my old home. Every year I do it. I go back out of respect not to the land that I spoke of in and older post (Rarity, August 19), but to her. Ive spent the last few weeks out here, hours from my new home. The land hasn't changed much. It has been subdivided in to 3 separate titles, but when viewing the land from my hill, the fences are barely noticeable. I now stand over the grave...

Most mammals have parents that care for them, raising them, teaching them, in the hope that they may one day look after themselves. Most. Some lack such a lifestyle. I didn't stand a chance from the age of 5. Before then, I had a mother. As opposed to Arthur, she showed she cared. She would always be there after my nightmares, watching me return to sleep. If I was picked on by the kids at school, she would comfort me, wiping the salty tears from my blue eyes. When I stubbed my toe, or shut my hand in the door, I would crawl into her embrace, and she would stroke my long blonde hair and hum to me. Beautiful compositions from an age long gone vibrated from her chest. Bach - Sarabande, my favorite.

Climbing into the car after school, I could here mum pleading with Arthur to put out his newly lit cigarette. As the car left the school, the aroma of cigarette smoke floated into the back seat. I began humming the Sarabande to myself, attempting to block out my surroundings. Then came the crescendo of crunching metal, accompanied by the ominous screeching of tyres. A chorus of screams erupted, inside the car, and out. Soft moans from the drivers seat created a drone. The harsh melody of chaos was new to me. As the slamming of the car halted, the distinct smell of petrol joined the cigarette smoke. Another smell hung in the air, sour, unfamiliar. My neck ached from whiplash, and as I moved my left arm, a throbbing pain responded. I struggled to complain with winded lungs. I clutched it to my chest, undid my seat belt, and crawled into the front of the car. I collapsed in the arms of my mother. This time, she didn't stroke me, or hum to me. Her arms were cold, her face ashen, though she could have been sleeping... With horror, I realised the unknown smell was that of death. Before I had time to react, large arms wrapped around my body, and tore me from her. I screamed for her, reached out towards her, but I was unable to break away from the strong grasp. Arthur clambered out next, hesitantly, pausing over mums body. His foot splashed in the puddle of petrol that was under the car. Seemingly accidental, his cigarette fell from his hand and ignited the petrol.
I began screaming, crying, fighting the grip that held me from my mother, and the inferno that instantly began to consume the car. The heat from the fire began to sear my flesh, as i reached out for her. Metres felt like miles... Why did she have to burn?

She had to. Arthur was always too rational. He put the body of his wife before his lifestyle. Our lifestyle. They will never know what she was, as it is meant to be. To this day, deceased vampires have been presented with a premature cremation. It is one of the reasons we travel in groups; someone must burn the body. Arthurs comforting words: "If you ever even think about telling anyone who we are, I'll rip out your throat."

Since that daything have changed. With my mood, my hair has darkened to a dirty brown. My eyes have hardened, the innocent blue now murky green. I have not called him by his parental title in over a decade for his treason. I call him by his first name. He has developed a strong hate for humans, blaming them for his wifes need to burn, to prevent another witch hunt. I began to hold Rosalie the way her mother held me, until recent events.

Now every year, on the 15th of November, I visit the hill at my old home. Ashes of her charred body buried at the foot of the cubic stone atop the hill. I engrave a mark every year to count how long I have been stranded. 12 years, and counting.

Back in the Saddle

With the HSC now behind me, I'm free to do as I please. Not much has changed in the last month. Rosalie isn't going to come back; she contacted me and told me she grouped up with a group of vampires we've met before. Were not still in contact with them, so I don't even get to see her. As for the family thats still here, Arthurs mood has been sour, and he seems as if hes about to spit fire at anyone who crosses his path. Jack and Helen are broken. I can see them falling apart. Its a shame; they were considering producing a second child. Rosalie changed that. I can't imagine how much they're hurting right now. I spend most of my time with James. With Rosalie gone, its usually him, Lily and I trying to wreak havoc. It always falls short, a stones throw from the pond, without Rosalie.

School life is different, different meaning there is none. I'm missing not being able to see Lisa every day. I still hang out with Joe. I don't think he knows about how I feel about Lisa, he keeps trying to set me up with his other friends. Come to think of it, I don't even know how i feel about Lisa. And I suppose now we'll drift slowly apart, and not be able to see each other. Or we'll suddenly move apart when my family kicks in and moves to a farther part of the state. I don't have many friends, so I'll leave fairly unnoticed.

I'm back in the Saddle now. Moving on will be tough, but necessary. At least some things won't change, like my weekly trips to the butcher to retrieve a helping of pigs blood. Awful stuff.

I Still Want To Live

Its coming closer. My HSC, I'm talking about. Yes, I'm doing my HSC, even as a vampire; I want to work a career until 30. After all, I'll only ever get one shot at it, as fleeting as it may be. I'm no fool, I know my emotional state during these final exams isn't going to be of any assistance. This would be so much easier if Rosalie never left.

No need to pronounce me dead due to an absence of posts between now and early November. With everything going on, I'll need focus sharper than razor wire. I might altogether abandon this blog until then, leave it like Rosalie left me.

I'll miss you guys until then, though I may drop in to say hello. Bob, John, Sarah, and whoever else deserves a mention; thanks. Its been so much easier having total strangers listening to me. Theres nothing quite like it.

Breakdown

Sarabande. A song by Bach, which I learned on guitar to play for my HSC. I dedicate it too my mother, for personal reasons, and had to perform it today in front of a live audience for practice. I stepped into the room to retrieve my guitar to practice, only to discover a performer was missing, and I was the only one available to perform. Rushed in front of everyone unprepared, I quietly awaited for my introduction to be completed.

That was when my feelings began to hit me. Memories - the few i have of my mother, began swirling to the surface. My teacher, with her back turned didn't notice the first tear run down my face, and drop onto my guitar. The soft tap it made travelled through the microphone, and was slightly amplified. The front row members of the audience noticed, however, and whispers generated. I struck the first chord to alert the teacher i was ready, and my introduction was completed.

As i began to play through the piece, tears began chasing the first, and softly landed on the body of the guitar. My teacher, who had now noticed could do nothing. I played the song to the dead silent audience, accompanied by the soft tapping of teardrops on a hollow body. Fortunately, I had no friends in the audience who would later attempt to comfort me. Not even Lisa showed up, which is a positive; I hate being seen upset. I was oblivious to the clapping of the audience as the piece concluded, and before my teacher could ask what was wrong, I stood up and left.

Not looking back, I packed my guitar in its case. I heard my teacher unevenly announce my leave, and introduce the next performer.
Before she could leave the room to see me, I was gone.

Cruel Hunt

Its begun. Peter and Arthur have realised the full concern with Rosalie missing. Vampires must always travel in groups. If one of us dies, the body must be burnt, lest our prescence be revealed in an autopsy. Arthur is notorius for have a flame at the ready the instant a vampire passes away. The search for Rosie is no longer a search to get her back, it has become a hunt. Rosalie must be found, in case she dies, and reveals the existence of vampires. I can't stand the thought that the primary concern is not for her well-being. Its as if they don't even care about her.

I also can't stand the thought of Rosie dying. Arthur has been checking out all the butchers he can, asking for a girl buying blood. If she gets caught, rather than returns, Arthur and Peter will permanantly keep a close eye on her. The only way out of this for her is if she finds another group of vampires, considering she is unlikely to return.

What if shes already dead? Or has been caught buying and drinking blood? I can't stand that possibility...

Come Home... Please?

I just sit here... waiting. Whenever the phone or the doorbell rings, I jump at the possibility that its her. I haven't heard from her, I haven't heard of her, I don't even know if shes still alive. Everyone is still distraught. I can't believe it actually happened. Everything seems so much darker... As if all the good has been sucked out of the world. If you happen to check up on this Rosie, please come home? We all love you. We all want you here. Can't you just come home and pretend this never happened? You mean so much to me. I can't feel myself without you here.

Remember that time Lily planned that prank on us with the chicken eggs? And we figured her out and covered her in them... Aren't the memories amazing? I want to have more of those times with you. Forever. Well... forever being about 200 years.
Come home...
Please?

Tattered Ribbons

The wooden door swung open revealing an array of torn paper and cut up ribbons. The floor, the bed, the benches were littered with it all. My heart nearly stopped from the shock. What I saw around me was the gift I had spent hours folding, starting over, folding and starting over several more times. I had decorated it with black and purple ribbons, that had been carefully placed to produce a stunning flourish of colour when the origami structure shifted forms. The product of 16 hours of work was given to Rosalie on her birthday this year, and it now lay shredded before me. As I stepped into the room, I spied a note laying on the bed. It boasted a single dreadful word.
Goodbye.

I couldn’t believe it. James gentle, comforting hand on my shoulder was like a train pounding into me. His words were buzzing mosquitoes in my ears. I broke out in sobs, as tears began rolling down my cheek. The screen door downstairs clattered, signaling the return of Rosalie’s parents, and Liz. They were shattered too. They couldn’t even issue a search; we aren’t citizens of a country and the last thing we needed was media attention.

The distraught atmosphere thickened when Arthur, Jack and Peter returned. It hurt more realizing I was the last to know my best friend had run away in the night. Not to mention this was my fault. The arguments of late revolving around Lisa and Courtney had only piled on to the regular pain she suffered, mostly due to her parents. She was gone.

Will she come back? Did she have to destroy my creation? That gift showed how important she was to me, and in defiance, she destroyed it. So many questions are running through my head right now. I can’t believe I did this to her, and didn’t see it coming.
I want my cushion back.
I want my best friend back.
I want my Rosie back…

Colder At The Edge

The lake smelt fetid, tainting the beautiful atmosphere created by the cloudless, moonless night. I stepped into the water, frigid about my ankles. The lake was always colder at the edge. I continued walking amongst the shallows, before reaching the possum that had lost its way. I had seen it fall from an overhanging branch only minutes ago, during a tussel with a neighbouring possum. It struggled for a moment, but quickly drowned. Now it lay here in front of me. I reached down and drew it out of the water. I quickly tore a patch of skin off and began sucking what little blood I could out of the creature. Even this shortly after death, I could feel the blood beginning to coagulate. It did not feel like I was feeding. It felt like I was drinking death. Unfortunatly, this was what I had been forced into. Running low on blood at home, and unable to purchase blood from the butcher due to punishment, I was forced to scurry up what I could.

I turned, tossing the creature back into the shallows, and walked towards shore. Two headlights appeared at the top of the hill leading to the lake. I quickly fled into the nearby bushes. A group of teenagers pulled up and began preparing fishing rods, laughing, teasing. One of the younger ones, Matt, was the target of most of there foul language. I could see, even in that light, that this boy didn't want to be there. He was the younger brother of one of the other people there. I assumed he was there out of obligation. I could have left then, gone home, but I watched curious.

I'll feel guilty for that for the rest of my life. Jack showed up, wondering what was keeping me. Matt walked off into the bushes, just for a walk, to escape the verbal siege. Jack couldn't resist the oppurtunity. I wish I had the courage to stand up to him, or alert the humans. I didn't. Jack followed the child off into the bushes. I followed too, whispering pleas to Jack. He shushed me, as Matt began returning, walking in our direction. I could hear him mumbling to himself, as he kicked small rocks along the floor. Jack stealthily approached, and hid behind a tree in Matts path. My mind began screaming at me, pleading me to help the boy. I put my own safety first; Jack never liked missing a meal. He shot out from the tree, and plunged a heavily serrated knife into Matts throat, cutting off his vocal chords. The knife was ripped out, and Jack immediatley placed his lips over the wound. It was done with such skill, it horrfied me. It still haunts me. Although very rarely, I still see Matts face in my dreams. From sadness, to shock, to a blank expression.

It was useless arguing with Jack, I should have let him go. Matt wouldn't remain in my memory. Or had I left after my feed... I could have saved him.

Incisions

I've been out for a while. Understandable. James found my blog thanks to browser history. He wasn't happy at all, and I've got the cuts to prove it. Fortunatley, he had enough sense not to tell Arthur, otherwise my jaw would probably be on a pedestal as a warning to anyone who thought they could spill our existence. He makes me sick. I havent called him 'dad' in almost 13 years. He concieved me, but he is no father of mine. What he did? Probably something that seemed reasonable to him. Maybe it was the right thing to do. But I'll never forget it.

Unfortunatley, there will be no story of my past to explain this. Not for several months anyway. The story won't come until the 13th anniversary of me calling him Arthur.

Anyway, back onto the discovery of the blog, Rosalie knows as well curtesy of James. She knows about all the posts involving Lisa. She's even more angry at me than before. After a fair amount of explaining, I managed to convince Rosalie and James the blogs wouldn't amount to any harm. There convinced, though that wasnt until after James got dirty and carved a stunning array of incisions into my back. Its nothing I can't handle. I'll just have a few more scars to add to those littered around my back.

Frodo the Vampire Slayer

Now i think the world is out to get me. Lisa's way of saying thank you for being there for her was more than mere words. She gave me her ring; silver with hands holding a heart with a crown. The hands symbolize friendship, crown loyalty, and the heart love. I had an urge to ask if I could pick the ones relating to me, but I imagine that would've torn her up even worse. Is there no way around this?

Now for the ironic factor; the ring is from the "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" series (Someone supposedly gives it to Buffy). She didn't tell me this on the spot, but rather over a text message. She was supposedly too embarrassed to admit she grew up obsessing over the show, and has every box set in her bedroom. Good thing she didn't tell me in person, I wouldn't know how to react. However, looking at this situation from the other side, Buffy Vampires are evil (hence the need for slaying). If Lisa knew what I was, she would be afraid of me, which I may be able to use to my advantage. In other words, pretend to be Vampire out to drain any human senseless enough to get within arms distance of me. Then she won't be hurt from not being with me, and I wouldn't have to risk killing her. Although if she found out Arthur would probably kill her. And me for being an informant.

As for Rosalie at the moment, we managed to keep things cool by ordering a round of pizzas to go under the name of Frodo Baggins. Somehow that's extremely amusing for us.

Rarity

The soft splashing of water under my feet accompanied the choir of birds in the trees. I could feel the frigid water begin to soak through my shoes as I pushed the dense foliage out of my path. I emerged on the hilltop. A large, cubic stone sat just off-centre of the highest point on the hill. I sat down on it, cross legged and observed. Herds of cattle stood around, almost lifeless as the sun approached its final hour. A small group of wild pigs, black as coal, emerged from the river a few kilometres away and tore at the ground for a late meal. Kangaroos still bounded across the landscape, free as the wind.

This was my most recent home. It was beautiful. I spent 12 years here, on these thousands of acres, learning aspects of the natural world. Many evenings, when my mind was troubled, I would climb the hill, more so a mountain, and watch the sun set, mull things over. The mountainous region, nature in all its beauty, had been tainted by power cabling. Enormous towers, constructed by man. If I turned around I could watch the commoners drive by, or a coal train on its routine trip to the power station.

Now, thousands of acres has turned to 7. I can no longer observe the kangaroos, cattle and pigs. I now lean against my chimney, and observe the rabbits as they emerge at dusk. But it is still beautiful, even after 3 years. One day, I plan to watch the sunset here, on this very rooftop with my beloved. Then, we will pack our bags, and travel out to my old home. We will watch it from the stone on that mountain, and I will recount all the times I walked out here, just to think about factors of my life, what decisions to make.

The only question; will I ever have a beloved? Rosalie and Lily are the only vampires I know that are within my age margin...Though Lily won't qualify as within my age margin for another 5 years or so.

Thus ensues the problem. I'm the only male Vampire within Rosalie's age margin that she has met. I can't believe how stupid I have been. Rosalie's discomfort when driving me to the hospital, it all makes sense. She was jelous of my feelings for Lisa. James filled me in on that this afternoon. Rosalie is my best friend... I don't think we're supposed to be together, I want to be able to be there for her forever, but as a friend. I have a feeling I'll be viewing alot more sunsets before this gets straightened out.

November 1678, England

My dear Grandmother Joan, whom died long before I was born, always had a story to tell. Unfortunately, one of those stories inspired a vendetta in Arthur.

England , 1678, Joan, 7 years old, was expecting a sibling. Rarely does a child vampire feel the joy of a similar aged sibling, but Joan was no different. With all the suspicion and witch hunts at the time, she didnt stand a chance. Her mother had been pregnant for over two years now, which did not go unnoticed by certain members of the public. Rising early in the morning, Joan couldn't help but notice the fog was glowing in the distance. Waking her mother and father to show her the strange phenomenon brought horror upon the family.

Her father walked outside, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Get some shoes on, where leaving!" He commanded, his eyes revealing his worried state.
The family each grabbed shoes, and Joan was dragged out the door by her father. The pretty glowing in the distance was brighter. Closer. As the trio fled, Joan oblivious to what was coming, the angry mob came upon the house. The house was joined by the glow, and althought the fog was thick, Joan knew the house was aflame. 7 small glowing spheres broke off from the house, spreading around the area with extreme speed.

The speed of the horses was far superior to the fleeing vampires, especially with one being pregnant, and soon one of the spheres revealed the prescence of a horseman, who caught sight of the family. A horn sounded, and the other glowing spheres changed direction, directing themselves to the horseman. Joan knew what was happening now. Her mothers worried sobs had given away her fate.
"I'll distract them." Were her fathers only words, as he unexpectedly changed direction.
There was no time to call him back.

They reached the thick woods now. That would not save them. The other horseman wre approaching, and Joan was hurriedly hidden in a bush.
"Don't move. Don't make a sound. If anyone asks, I was going to kill you." Her mother said, binding Joan in her concealed spot, gagging her.
As she moved away from the spot, the horsemen finally caught her, there torches burning the morning fog. Joan watched from her position as her mother was caught.

Before long, a large mob surrounded her mother, her father brought forth. They were tied to a young, dead tree. The mob threw down logs at there feet, to the sound of her fathers screams.
"Give her a trial!" he screamed.
Then, Joans mother said something noone expected.
"Its no use, they'll find our breakfast before we get a chance to flee," she spoke, admission of her fate laced through her delicate voice.
"HERE!" A man cried from the crowd, bringing forth Joan, taking off the gag.
Outrage poured from the crowd, cries of cannabalism and witchcraft.
"You deserve no trial," a horsman stated, issuing silence. "You will burn."
Joan was shocked at how plain the mans voice was. Tears streaming down her face, which the mob mistook for fright of the witches, Joan watched the flames come to life.

Joan watched as her parents were consumed by the fire, as her parents murderer cooed softly to her, attempting to comfort her.
"It'll be alright, their gone now." The man whispered.


Joan, raising Arthur almost 200 years later, she taught him her morals. She passed down her hate for humans to him, which he attempted to pass down to me. Fortunatley my mother was on an alternate side. She somewhat quelled his hate for the species while she was alive. But thats another story. One I'm not up to disclosing.

(Events as described by Arthur)

A little bit more Truth

This is mainly directed at Pandora, but also anyone else who is a bit confused. Firstly, I'm not supernatural. Im a result of evolution; completely normal. We have enzymes that are specifically designed to work with blood. Our life expectancy is about 200 years, not that much more than a human. If a turtoise can live for 300 years, why cant we? Also, in case you think my name is really Chase, its not. Seriously guys, a 150 year old guy named Arthur has a son and calls him Chase? And the last name Bloodmere is a little suspicious right? See, this is what we call language techniques. Its a play on words; Chasing Blood, Chase Bloodmere, see a connection? I thought it was creative. Human names on my blogs are real, and Rosalie is her real name, but the rest are fake, so if someone I know finds this, they won't know its me. These blogs arent even posted from my own computer. I don't even directly post these blogs. Every forum post, and every blog or comment is copied and pasted by a trusted human. The display picture isnt me, its that trusted human, with fake blood, edited with photoshop. That way, theres no way for some genious hacker to trace me.

Sorry if this post came across rude or demeaning, I'm just a little flustered at the moment. Nothing personal Pandora.

Aftermath

Feeling inspired by the hero of Devil May Cry, I flipped a coin to decide whether or not I would visit Lisa. Heads, she would see me as soon as possible. Tails, I would remain at home for the duration of the evening. The coin soared through the air, slapped down on to my palm which hurriedly slammed it down onto my left hand. I stood still, a moments hesitation. I slowly began to move my hand away. Heads.

Rosalie's frustrated breathing as she drove me to the hospital sent irritation through my body. She has to drive me everywhere, so she frequently acts this way, but honestly, doesn't this seem a viable reason? I didn't say anything to her for fear she would turn the car around, but inside I wanted to scream at her.

The emergency ward was fairly quiet, save a patient nearby whining in pain. Lisa's mother was gone, talking to one of the nurses in private. As I knelt beside Lisa, our gazes locked, I held her right hand for comfort. We both knew we were heading into awkward territory, but neither backed down. Somewhere along the line, our faces came closer together. I could see a repeat of World Youth Day coming, but I still didn't back down. The memories of that night flew back, the feeling of those soft lips, until I realised it was happening for real. I pulled back suddenly. She seemed distracted, her response awkward.
"All this bleeding... its making everything taste like blood."
I nearlt laughed, if it werent for what I had just done. I explained that I didn't want to go out with her. I said I was more of a "hook up kinda guy." It felt terrible saying that. I couldn't stand pretending I was someone who disrespects women. I've only ever kissed two in my life, Courtney and Lisa. Maybe the pain killers had some mental effect, because she seemed dazed. He mother returned, and I took the first oppurtunity there was to bail. I doubt she realised the source of the bloodied taste, but it was too close for comfort. This is what happens when you listen to a coin. Gotta hate fate.

Hour of Need

One large meat lovers pizza from my favorite restaurant sat in front of me. This time I had the ordered under "Captain Jack Sparrow." Recent orders for "Voldemort" and "Lord Rahl" had gained me a reputation; It was a ritual the waitresses knew me for. Next to the pizza was a home bred caged chicken, moments from death.

After clipping away a patch of feathers, I bit into the neck of the creature, its cries of distress oblivious to me. It was a ritual my family knew me for. What broke my daydream was the phone ringing, conveniently laying on the kitchen table meters away. My face covered in blood, I snatched the phone and placed it against my ear, downing a mouthful of that chickens life. It was Lisa. She sounded stressed and upset. I quickly learned she cut a large portion of her thumb off with a knife as she was cutting up meat. She was home alone, and was waiting for her mother to return to take her to hospital. She called me. In her 15 minutes of need, she called me. She was begging me not to leave her until her mum got home. Delirium had begun to take her, and I was forced to comfort her, not that I was upset about the loss of time, and the left over blood pouring out of the chicken (which was my only blood supply for the next few days). On the negative side, I feel this moment of comfort strengthened the bond between us. My heart faltered each time she failed to respond, for fear she would lose consciousness. Pacing the kitchen, covered in blood, I worried for my human friend.

Now, as I type, Lisa resides in hospital. My mind constantly questioning, do I visit her? If I do, it may further strengthen the feelings there. I know I won't be tempted to drink any spilled blood; the chicken Arthur is cooking right now is evidence of that. If i stay here at home, will it upset her? The one she was compelled to call when she felt alone and vulnerable remains at home, unwilling to visit. Which of the two would be more detrimental?

Sitting here in limbo, tearing my hair out from the stress, is not a comfortable feeling. Its times like these I wish I could bury my head in the sand. Or wish that I had a substantial supply of sand nearby. I may just resort to flipping a coin... A ritual my friends knew me for.

Mistakes Are The True Teachers

A teenager in todays society would use any excuse to take a day off school. I can't say I'm much different. Last night, while happily chatting away on msn, Rosalie on the computer next to me, I learned something about my ex girlfriend. My only ex girlfriend. My human ex girlfriend.

I was thinking of saving this story of my past for some point in the distant future, but alas, I feel the urge to divulge it now.

March 2008, I had been going out with Courtney for 9 months and 7 days, but whose counting? For my first relationship, it sure left a mark. She didn't know what I was, and nor did I intend to reveal it. It was a pupil free day, so I went to her house while her parents were at work.

Leaning gently on each other, watching The Lion King, (as teens do) I placed a small kiss on her neck. Before I knew it, I was laying over her, passionatley kissing her neck. I had always prided myself on my willpower, and believed I would be able to resist temptation. Maybe I should have drained a chicken from my backyard before I left. I suppose you can guess what happened next. Where she was expecting a hickey, she recieved a bite mark, that tore deep into her flesh. I quickly realised what I had done. Her screams still ring through my ears from that moment, as I backed off, thick blood dribbling down my chin. That was the last time we ever had a proper conversation. I ran out the door, and never looked back. She concealed the bite from her parents, not wanting them to know I had come over. On the bright side, my identity was never exposed.

I used to think she had convinced herself it was a fettish of mine, until now. Last night, I was talking to her close friend, Cassie. She said Courtney never gave a straight answer when she was asked about why we broke up. Recently (according to Cassie) she let slip the words "he scares me".
That brought back memories of the day I lost the first girl I ever felt for. I can't even talk to her anymore, out of fear, and she has made clear that she wants nothing to do with me. I wasn't willing to show my face at school after this. Rosalie understands. I should have listened to her when she told me it was a bad idea. If i truly felt for Courtney, I should have let her go. But I learn from my mistakes. I won't feel the loving touch of a human again.

Something you didn't know about Alexander the Great

Alexander the Great created the third largest empire ever to exist. In a decade he conquered most of the known world, and reportedly, only death stopped him. If you know anything about him, you may realise he was incredibly intelligent and forward thinking for his time.

Rumours were spread that the man he inherited his army from (Philip II of Macedon) was not his real father, and that Alexander was actually the son of Zeus, who slept with Philips wife Olympias. Little was it known that they were more accurate than modern historians realise. Alexander was a vampire. Demosthenes, a politician from Athens was his real father. I can't say for sure whether Olympias was a vampire, as it is often suggested that Alexander was a halfbreed, but Demosthenes was definitly subjected to chasing blood.

Olympias concealed Alexanders vampirism from him, diluting his drinks with blood, until some time in his teens. When Alexander eventually assumed the throne, he eaglerly began conquering the world, so as to mark his name in history. For 10 years he continued, not willing to rest, for he knew that should age much longer, his condition would be evident. When his army refused to go further, they began travelling back home. Demosthenes, stricken with jelousy that his son had been so successful, began to oppose him, and in his 90's (an age rarely reached in those days) committed suicide in a temple to escape the wrath of his son.

It was on his way home that Alexander realised he had pushed his limits. Going into his 30's, and aging incredibly slow, he was forced to fake his death in sickness. He allowed one of his commanders to take his body to Egypt. This allowed his commander to assume power in Egypt, as the body of the previous ruler was required to be present to take position as Pharoah.

Few Egyptians knew the truth. Alexander then modified his appearance, shaving his head, and removing all facial hair. He dissappeared off the map at this point, to live for an unknown number of years.

7 words

Going through a humans wallet can teach you more than you want to learn. Today I went through my friend Joe's wallet at school, with the innocent intent of taking his pupil ID card. That was when I realised I was a terrible person. Can I call myself that? Or is it a human, or humane term? He had an Australian blood donor card, which I was tempted into reading. 7 words forever burned into my memory, reminding me of what unthinkable crime I nearly committed.
I do something special.
I give blood.
Ironic that I would come across this only the day after I asked Lily to steal donations.
Joe bragged that his donation could help to save 3 lives. 3. That was when it hit me. Peter killed one human, drawing enough blood to last him two weeks. With every donation I was prepared to devour, I would be stealing the lives of three, with enough blood to last only several days. Am I really any better than him?

I was visibly upset upon this realisation, and left Joe, though he isn't one to notice much. Lisa, on the other hand, watched me like a hawk. Now sitting in the library pretending to read a book on a cushioned chair, I felt the slight depression in the seat as someone sat down next to me. I continued reading. Lisa remained there for a moment, before aiming her body at me and asking what was wrong. I pretended to be surprised at her prescence and engaged in conversation. Sometimes I wish I had someone to vent too. I couldn't just blurt out that I have a desire to drink blood, and nor could I consult Rosalie. Not just because she wasn't there, but because Rosalie often has tribulations to battle, and I didn't want to risk bringing my only true friend down.
But the conversation between me and Lisa continued. She didn't prod, which was wise, but rather changed the subject resulting in humorous talks of irrelevent factors of life. It felt good to laugh. So much better then letting Rosalie pour her problems, only to upset me simultaneously.
Lisa is one reason I wish I was human. If I were, I would fight to spend every moment with her, maybe even get married. Typical fantasy. But I'm not going down that road again. And I've already come close.

The sleepout, World Youth Day 08. In the frost of Randwick racecourse, students began huddling together for warmth. I was lying next to Lisa, and felt her soft, delicate lips press gently against my cheek, before a slow, hesitated withdrawel. My emotions went crazy, my mind began spinning, and before I knew it, my lips chased hers, and met. The following day, I came to my senses, and told her we couldn't be together. Typical human excuse, I've had a bad experience in a relationship. But I was telling the truth.

I will not go out with Lisa. As much as I want it deep inside, I can't risk a relationship with a human. You humans don't realise what you have. You can find someone and be with them. For me, there are too few partners for me to find one I would want to be with. Maybe I have too high expectations for a vampire.

13th August reveals how inhumane I really am, and that I have to watch as the only human I have genuine affection for lusts for me (I doubt it would be love) without being able to kiss those lips again. How I hurt her from World Youth day, leading her on proves I'm not only inhumane, but heartless.

The Den

As vampires that live for periods of time longer than that of any human, it's understandable that we can't legally own a house. The concept is far too risky, so we resort to renting out homes for a few years at a time maximum, then moving on. Sometimes we only remain in one place for a few weeks. My family has come to call our place 'The Den,' purely because the title mocks the common perception of our kind. The Den doesn't only contain our bloodline, but also several other nomads and families; which is understandable due to the small size of the average family. My only brother is 48 years older than me, and my mother passed away a decade ago. That makes an all guy family, so we decided we'd move in with another group of vampires for obvious reasons.

But after spending the last 24 hours in The Den, I can't stand it anymore. Peter killed a girl. We knew it the moment he stepped through the door. His shirt sported excess blood from our rather messy eating methods. Though i must give him credit, he eats in a much tidier fashion than anyone else. What makes what he does worse, is that he brags about his kills to all of us. When almost half of us prefer to preserve human life, it doesn't ease our minds to know that a friend is tearing out their throats with amusement. Rosalie agrees with me. Shes a vampire of 18, only a few months older than me. We get along well, and we agree on most matters, so we had our private discussion about that fool.

On the bright side, it shouldn't have to continue much longer. Recently, there have been blood drives at my school every 3 months, which was originally a day that would plague my conscience, and threaten to take me. Fortunately, me and Rosalie convinced Lily, one of the older females, to work for the blood bank. Succesfully landing this job will see regular deliveries of donor blood to The Den. After that day, I vow to spill the blood of any vampire residing in The Den who takes the life of a human for a meal.

The Whinge

How to whinge? I learned from the best. Plastics. The most superficial band of society, and coincidentally the stupidest. They whinge over any detail, from the terrible make up on their putrid faces to the existence of any life form that doesn't spend its life assisting them. What really burned my insides was a typical pair whinging over gaining an insignificant amount of weight, unnoticable on there bodies, already bordering annorexia.

Now don't misinterpret, I don't have anything against those who suffer reasonably from annorexia, but I can't stand the ones that fight to keep there weight at a minimum, refusing to eat just to be able to brag about the bodies to others, and impress the lesser half of the male population. Now it's my turn to whinge. They're problems are clearly insignificant, when compared to my eating disorder. Yes, I call it a disorder because thats what i view it as. I wish i was a normal human. Though I know many would love to live for over 200 years, I'll tell you now, the grass is greener on the other side.
For me, its not a battle to limit my eating for physical appeal, its just that finding a substantial supply of blood is difficult. Thats why some of us hunt humans. Your all easy targets. I think those vampires are sick, it's too similar to canabalism, and ever since I found out I was different from all the other kids, I've hated the prospect of taking a life.

Unfortunatley, I have to live with it. I've experienced moments where my imagination would conjure vivid images of me diving on my school teachers or friends and tearing the flesh at their necks open. The worst part is, I wished I could do it. Suddenly the tribulations of a plastic seem insignificant don't they? Imagine you had to listen to them whinge while inside you there was a voice screaming at you to shut them up at their vocal chords.

Next time you hear an insignificant whinge, or if you ever wish you were one of us, just remember this. And this isn't the half of it. If you read my previous post, you might have noticed I've tasted human blood before. If I were up to disclosing that story, it would turn anyone off vampirism for life.

Chase

The Truth

Welcome to Chasing Blood. I am Chase

Yes, I am a real vampire. And why make a blog? Because I'm bewildered by societies perception of vampires. To be honest, it was the Twilight series that finally pushed me over the edge. I understand its all a bit of fantasy, all for amusement, but thats not how the world has responded. Vampires have become revered, a new craze. There is nothing to revere about us. We are horrible impressions of the human race, and if it weren't for police, and our hidden identity, we would probably drain the life out of anyone with this point of view.

I want to show you what vampires really are, break common perception, the usual. If you are reading this, I implore you to spread the word of this blog to anyone.

The Truth:
1. Vampires drink blood to survive. Not necessarily humans blood. In my oppinion, blood is blood, although some vampires insist human blood taste better. I've tasted human blood, but I didn't kill her, I'm not a murderer.
2. Vampires aren't contagious. The whole idea is proposterous. If we were, there would be multitudes of us out there. A simple bite can't change someones genetic structure.
3. Vampires are not immortal. Wouldn't that be a blow to science. We do, however, have a much longer life expectancy. At the age of about 25, we tend to decelerate the aging process. The oldest vampire I've ever heard of was supposedly 281 years old. To avoid exposure, we fake disappearances for underage vampires, and live nomadic lifestyles.
4. Vampires can eat human food. It still offers nutrients, but most of it will just pass through our bodies. To survive completely off human food would result in a weak vampire, scrawny, who eats unreasonable amounts of food. I'm part like this. Though my excuse for not gaining weight is the standard "my metabolism is excruciatingly efficient," which humans soak up very easily.
5. Vampires can walk in sunlight. Again, it would be baffling to discern how this could be possible. The whole twilight sparkling would be odd too. We do dislike sunlight, but by no means is it too much to bear; it just burns a little. I don't even know where the idea that sun turns us to ash originated from.
6. Vampires do not possess superhuman strength/speed. We are really very similar to normal humans. In fact, where so much like humans we can supposedly reproduce with them. I'm not sure whether thats true or not, we rarely risk human-vampire relationships, and I've never witnessed a successful mating process between species.
7. Vampires have emotions. Again, our genetic structure corresponds greatly to humans. We can suffer depression, feel guilty, and even suffer mental disorders.
8. Vampires reproduce through sexual relationships. I thought that would be obvious, but who knows. The reason there are so few of us is because a vampire is much less fertile than a human, and we have a 27 month maternity period. Nearly 3 times that of a human. We also reproduce rarely because we risk exposure with every pregnancy.
9. Vampires possess human teeth. There are no fangs for efficiency, we haven't had millions of years to evolve that feature, though it would help. Human teeth, however, can tear flesh all the same.
10. Vampires are not all attractive. That is entirely fictitious. Just like humans, we can be hideous or attractive.
11. Vampires die. Yes. We die just as easily as any other living creature dies.
12. Vampires are smart. We aren't geniouses, we make mistakes, and a small percentage of humans surpass our intelligence, but functioning vampires are generally at the top end of society.
13. Vampires are not to be revered. We do have an urge to kill. We are deemed evil by society. We do not possess romantic qualities any more than a human does. Some of us are dicks, some of us are nice, but most of us are dicks.

If you think I missed anything, comment, I'll add the truth to the list. Though I believe that covers all the possible ones.

If you don't believe me, that is your choice, but I still believe this blog will make for an interesting read. Feel free to follow the life of a vampire to see what chasing blood is really like. You'll soon realise that being a vampire is a burden. Another reason we don't reproduce often. The desire to tear open the throats of innocents is always threatening us, and sometimes it overrides our control. Im only 17, I haven't come across a time where I took a life out of hunger. I try to keep well fed to drown the desire out. Please, for our sake, don't worship us, or try and love us. We don't want that. I know you may be thinking this blog is contradictive, because I have claimed we don't want our existence to be revealed, but honestly, I don't think this blog is going to send cops after us. At worst it will result in vampire hunters. Personally, I don't think they'll catch us. We are very intelligent, and can easily blend into the human world. Its even difficult for us to discern human from vampire, let alone a human do the task.

Welcome to Chasing Blood.
I am Chase.