Un-Living

An attempt to write, for a contest, a Vampire story without cliche's.

 

Once upon a time I had a name and my place in the sun, but now the notion of a title is as unimportant as the shine of life upon my corrupted flesh is ungodly. The only thing that has been left to me is a purpose; the purpose of being this thing that I have inadvertently become.

I work with the needy- those that have fallen at life’s many obstacles. Not in a professional capacity you understand, more as a necessity of being this entity. In life I had wasted many years in ‘gainful employment’; assisting the unfortunates and the vulnerable people of the world. Among others I had used my strength to help the weak, the meek, the old, the young, the disabled, the insane and the despised. When I felt that I was making a difference the work was rewarding and worthwhile, but mostly people came to me for an easy answer and that fact took its toll.

Eventually, inevitably, I had become fatigued by the constant yammering and the unyielding clambering for my ‘unconditional positive regard’. I was tired and weak from taking in all that they had to give and I became irreconcilably depressed with the burden of their woes. My colleagues said that I was ‘burnt out’, my family said that I was unappreciated, my friends said, ‘f**k ‘em all’.

Over time my ears became deaf to all those around me, my eyes refused to see that which was in front of me. I became ill with the responsibility of all that had been given to me as the cacophony of their chaos overtook my senses. Finally my sense of self was no more and I existed as a passionless hull of all that I had once been. I began to take substances to heighten my senses- to give me a semblance of significance in the world around me. 

It proved a crude and futile attempt to recover the shattered pieces of who I had been and, as a consequence, I died a lonely, wretched and resentful person; no longer capable of understanding my own needs and desires. My family and friends had long since removed their presence from the sadness of my life, so no one had been there to help me overcome the creeping death that follows folly.

I recall sitting alone in a bedsit, drunk as usual, when I had closed my eyes that final time. I was a mere 45 years of age, but still I was pleased to know that my eyes would not re-open upon this hellish earth again. I was happy to be freed from the guilt, shame and agony that had blinded me. Death held not fear, but hope.

I could no longer hear the pain of others, but I knew that no tears were shed at my passing; nor did they when my fragile frame was engulfed in flames. Wherever my ashes were scattered I could not know, nor did not matter, for I was free at last.

Or so I had thought.

When I awoke again I found that I had come to be in an alien landscape- a dreamscape perhaps. It was a place where many others like me wandered endlessly and, like me, were unable to see or hear. We spoke out those things that we felt in our eternal souls. We spoke of the trials and tribulations- the atrocity and adversity that we had seen and heard in life, but never could we speak or feel for ourselves. The self of us all had long since perished, forgotten to us and all that once knew who we had been.

We wander alone and talk endlessly of the others, those that had occupied our minds during our lifetimes and whenever we came into contact with our new brothers and sisters we felt their burden also and spoke it involuntarily.

We spoke the pain of those that had taken our hearing and sight. Altruism was a curse, I now knew- our empathic capabilities mocked by most of those that we had come into contact with. I understood that I had become one of those that had been used as a conduit by which fear, anxiety and trauma was dispelled disproportionately throughout the species. I was part of the reason that people did not look for their own solutions, not the guide that showed them the way, as I had once believed.

My brethren and I were the sitters, the carers, the minders of soul angst and had become trapped in the necessity for safeguarding the others’ problems. They did not truly need us, but it soon became apparent to me that they still demanded our counsel in the realm of their dreams.

They would come to us as they slept and lay their ethereal hands upon our shrouded bodies, thereby compelling us to feel their troubles as if our own until they were satisfied that the responsibility for their actions had been abdicated. But worse still was to come.

The truth of what I had become was revealed to me not long ago as a woman laid her touch upon me and, obligated, I absorbed her anguish at the state of the world I had long left behind.

She laughed with relief as the anguish became mine alone to bear; to see, hear and feel for the eternity I would speak it. It was her pain that told me what I had become.

She, too, had borne the burden of humanity and had pursued me to transpose this weight of knowledge upon me. I felt her fear and it was the fear of being what I had become. I saw then that the life I had given up in the living realm had prepared me for the un-life of the vampire.

Fear not, for no hunter am I- no, indeed I am the prey and the preyed upon. Although my purpose is to absorb the life force of others it is not for my gain. The accolade and applause for my ‘vital work’ had appealed to my vanity and had led me to folly. My ego had prevented me from knowing that I was an identifiable source of compassion- an opened vessel that would carry the weight of sin and sorrow until my soul was tarnished beyond hope.

 My brothers and sisters and I had been used to avoid the distractions of their ills and once sated of their need to offload they had gone about their thoughtless lives. They bought pleasure to avoid pain and wanted nothing more than to be entertained while in the global holiday resort that humans call ‘home’.

Foolishly we Vampires had believed that all hearts, souls and minds had the same capacity for love and that we were, potentially, of the same ilk, but no, most are just along for the ride. We allowed them to be at peace with their apathy and complicity as the true demons ravaged the earth- and they have enslaved us for eternity in return.

The woman said that she was sorry, but that she would rather ‘rule in hell than serve in heaven’.

Had I any concern for myself I might have smiled at the irony.

Author's Note

Does this fit the 'Vampire' genre?

Reviews

[Twilight]

Well, yes it does (in response to the Author's Note). Obviously, that is almost incidental in this piece. All of the deep-thinking and play with words etc, would be equally suited to almost any other genre too. Thus, no real need for it in this kind of context. Having said that, it is thought-provoking and linked in quite an original way, to the supernatural genre.

But, what does the "dreamscape" look like, which you refer to? Indeed, what do the vampires actually look like? Descriptive details such as these are often (but not always) very helpful, in any form of supernatural tale. Had you included them, they would have made this story even better! Thanks for entering it in my Contest, "Weird Tales"!