Vampyre: Queen of Election

A man-turned-warrior (vampire-thinker) has post-examination reflection of Earth dark-skies readings for the psyche's cleats.

Vampire myth and maps make for quite the sport of Earthling fascination with magic and immortality and flesh-and-bone simplifications, and this one's inspired by my love of varied vampire comics/movies. Thanks for reading (and Happy 4th!), 

DISCLAIMER: This work of mythology/fiction contains images/references with no ties to any representative person(s)/body (e.g., Bram Stoker) and is cast as purely a 'personal' expression for social art (for 'open' views). 

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I was traveling around North America persuaded to think by my cyber-circle pals that my quest for pirate-myths and lore should invoke in me a special other-worldly interest in the knowledge of vampires, immortality-oriented dark-skies thinkers of blood-drinking half-cannibalism activity for underworld invisible Selfie-culture dislikes of the non-humor variety for Earth citizenry (hmmm).

I had found a real vampire-sorceress, a queen of vampires, queen of election, who named herself Vampyre and frequented a world-tower structure where tourism was pronounced. She liked luring trekkers, you see, into her haven or abode where she'd convert, transform, or bloody-murder the wanderers. Was this some Selfie-hate for incomplete-distances readings for the leviathan of Earth's evil sport (for the Ego)?

VAMPYRE: Do you like garlic-and-cheese, traveling thinker?

ME: I like potions and Holy-Water (sure); and I do think vampires are undead.

VAMPYRE: We're but teleportation thinkers of distance-leaps of non-faith!

ME: I'd make wage for such languages, Vampyre, but you're not a democrat (yes?).

VAMPYRE: You said it, thinker; I'm the visage of a vampire-legend for dark maps.

ME: So, you make offer for me to become your elected assassin for hunters?

VAMPYRE: We vampires are clan-like, like cultures, and I'm an election-hostess!

ME: If I refuse?

VAMPYRE: Post-conference of the promise you made to be civil, I'll send killers.

ME: So, I'll now wander as a vampire-club inquisitor tracked by your killers.

VAMPYRE: Isn't that the fare for the flair of fair helmets, thinker?

ME: Vampyre, you unwittingly transform me into a hero for football (damn).

VAMPYRE: Good fortunes whilst you endure, Selfie-like (ha).

I departed from the company of Vampyre ('Queen-of-Election') inside that darkened tower of Earth distances for tourism; she'd now transformed me into some kind of wanderer-hero, tracked by her bloody-murder killers (creatures of night and day-invisibles) post-refusal of her proposition to become her club assassin for nailing of hunters, precocious gents/ladies who sought to find and destroy vampire culture (damn). While I enjoyed some hearty kitchen-made red-eats at my hostel-station (Inn-Express), I didn't doubt to think Vampyre was a thief of travel (for Facebook or something). Had I become Van Helsing (unofficially)...Selfie-like?

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)