Lucio Rimanez: Vampire Diaries

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A NIGHT AT THE FAIR 2

Lucio Rimanez: The Vampire Diaries3

On a cold dark December night I felt an emotion that should have died in me many moons ago. Isolation had taught me that life is not worth living unless you openly and honestly embrace it. My name is Lucio Rimanez and I am a Vampire. Let me tell you about it.4

I remember waking at the usual time. I think it was around four p.m. when my eyes opened and I first threw open the coffin lid. Please don’t think that all Vampires sleep in coffins, most of us don’t. But I’m an old romantic and my love for the Hammer horror films of the 1970’s has installed in me a slight weakness for the theatrical glamour of old Vampire lore.5

What isn’t so glamorous though is the physical discomfort of sleeping in a wooden box that was designed for a corpse. You wake with an aching back, a crimped neck and a smell of damp wood that is far from attractive when you are trying to obtain a meal for the evening. 6

Fortunately, during this period of my life I had managed to obtain a large house from a lonely old lady, so at least I had the luxury of a bath and change of clothes before the hunt. I had spent so much time in old graveyard crypts, rundown factories and abandoned houses that this was real, unadulterated luxury. 7

The hunters were still out there of course, but my new home had security cameras, dogs and guards, so It would take more than a sledgehammer and a gulp of courage for them to get to me now.8

I have to admit to you now that I did take advantage of the loneliness of old age to acquire my new salubrious surroundings. I had replied to a newspaper advertisement from a ‘mature’ lady who was looking for a companion/friend and very quickly began a friendship with her. I was tired of running and also tired of being alone, so was glad to help her through the twilight years of her life. She had the enthusiasm and lust for life of a much younger lady and I knew that she would give me a hiding place for a while. All she wanted in exchange was a little bit of companionship. Her name was Margaret and she was sixty-two years of age. I am far older than that, but I looked thirty years her junior; it was a good pairing. I would take her to the theatre, to caf&#;s and to museums. We had a great time together, we really did. I was somebody she could have on her arm. I was a young man who she could talk to and confide in. She knew what I was, and she knew that as she grew older and frailer that I would remain the same. She had been married once. Her husband had been a good man and also a wealthy one. On his passing he had left her alone in a large country home and with no children to share her old age with she had grown lonely. She had money, but nothing to do with it, and nobody to spend it on. 9

Was I such a bad person in doing what I did for her? I made the last five years of her life the most enjoyable time she had experienced in decades. And when she died, she thanked me, rewarding me with the entirety of her estate. 10

I knew that the hunters would find me eventually, but after six years of living in this luxurious house I was still able to maintain the façade. I would cruise the streets at night, normally feeding upon the outcasts of society, and by day I would lock up the house safe in the knowledge that I had a full time security team looking after me. 11

Young runaways and addicts were the main targets for my blood lust during these years. They were always easy to pick up. I would drive to the city, walk the streets and they would flock to me. A promise of money and/or a good time always got their attention. I would take them to a secluded area and make their deaths as painless as possible. Did I feel sorry for them? No, not really. Life had rejected them and I was merely taking away the pain, this is how I justified it. This is how I always justify it, and anyway, I need blood to survive, as humans need food. You kill animals; we kill your rejects. What’s the difference? Wherever I am right or wrong who is to say? God judges, but God is dead, so I continued my nightly feed and left the morality to the angels. But back to the story of the night that was to change my life.12

My plans for that December evening were unconfirmed. I just knew that I wanted to walk the streets for a while. I needed to reflect upon my current situation. I was comfortable, but I was bored. All of my life I had craved adventure and I had experienced as much as would fill one hundred lifetimes. But after so many decades of running from the hunters, from racing to adventure to adventure I had grown tired. I had felt the overwhelming need to hide away to, but now it was stifling me. All of the books had been read, all of the plays had been seen and all of the arts had been visited. I had been away from real life for too long now, using the works of others to comfort me, but I could sense that it was my time to rejoin the mess that is humanity once again. I needed to get away from the books and plays; I needed to live again.13

I thought about joining the old groups that used to amuse me. The Satanists had always been fun. Their memberships must have renewed themselves from the last time that I had attended their parties. Even the oldest member would find it hard to believe that the man they saw now was the same fellow who had cavorted with them over thirty years ago. Then there were the other Vampires. There were factions, rivalries and wars to be had between them. That was always diverting. There is nothing better than a group against group situation to get the blood flowing again. 14

So I mulled over my choices, and planned to walk the streets that night and come to a decision by the end of the evening. I bathed (Vampires love water and the smell of cologne), dressed and left my house at seven p.m. on a cold and icy Saturday evening. I got into my old Ford Sedan and started off towards the city centre.15

The neon lights burnt my eyes as I drove towards the city centre. I live in the dark and it takes a while for my sight to adjust. That is why, if you should ever cross my path, that you will notice that I wear small red spectacles. They help me to experience the unnatural lights that flood the new cities. The lights are something that I have never quite grown accustomed to, as when I was born electricity was merely a dream and the nights were always filled with perpetually blackness, only occasionally lit by the romance of a full moon.16

Sometimes I drive for hours until the sun begins it’s daily ascent and I feel the need to seep back into the darkness. I love automobiles and I can spend weeks never even leaving my vehicle. I will pull up to a young lady offering her services, take her away to feed and go back home to sleep without once leaving the vehicle. 17

But tonight I needed to walk, so I parked up the old ford and walked in silent contemplation towards the lights of the city centre. 18

I passed the rows of terraced houses, looking through the windows and imagining what was going on behind the four walls that cover so many sins. Domestic squabbles and abuse is often hidden behind the most serene of coverings. I passed the early evening pub-crawlers. The young girls, shivering from the cold as they tottered precariously on high-heeled shoes, wearing garments that barely concealed their flesh. The men smelling of alcohol and cheap cologne. Their shirts, shoes and gelled hair making them virtually indistinguishable from each other as they passed me by. Occasionally they would glance at me. They would look me up and down and then smile to them selves in a confused and slightly contemptuous way. 19

I dress well, and I look like a gentleman, but my style is dated. My suits were tailored in the 1950’s, and as I look like a man in his thirties I can appear rather incongruous to the aggressive young male of 2008 England. I really should change my style so that I blend in a little easier, but nothing about the fashions of today appeal, so I retain my dated yet stylish look. 20

My walk continued and I passed the ubiquitous burger bars and pubs of the city centre. My senses filled with the smells of the night. Food and alcohol mingled with the perfume of the people. For my kind the smell creates an intoxicating rush that becomes something akin to desire and lust. It’s something that I love about the modern world and it never ceases to please me. 21

I was about to enter one of these pubs when my ears were attracted to the unmistakable sound of a nearby fairground. I love fairs; they are like a beautiful woman. They offer so much on appearance alone and sometimes (alas only occasionally) they have even more to offer on the inside as well. 22

My pace quickened, my heart rate accelerated and before I knew where I was, or what I was doing I was there. Lit, as bright as a Christmas tree and in the blackness of the winter night was a fairground. My eyes hurt from the light, but a great grin spread across my face. I stopped, waited until I had adjusted to the brightness of the lights and walked into the fair; the night had finally begun.23

As most of my readers will know, a fairground can be an exhilarating place. The sounds and flashing lights blur into a non- stop spectacle of movement, enjoyment and kinetic energy. Every face wears a smile and every person appears to be having a wonderful time. There is a dark side as well, a dark side that was to be all the more significant on this occasion as I was to learn very shortly. But, as I walked through the neon lights of the fair all thoughts of pickpockets, scams and illicit sexual advances were far from my mind. I had been too wrapped up in books and art and I wanted to enjoy life again.24

I enjoyed the rides, was enclosed by a cage as it rose to the moon, then plummeted to the earth accompanied by the delighted screams of youthful enthusiasm. I whirled with joy on carts that turned direction at the second you anticipate the collision. I even bought a hotdog and joked with the parents queuing for the snacks as their children rushed excitedly to the next ride. It was fun, here I was a vampire of over three hundred years of age, and I was having the time of my life in a little city centre funfair in. I had just strapped into another ride when to my great dismay I saw a face that I had seen before. It was the face of a hunter; they had found me again.25

I saw her eyes at first, and then the familiar purple lips and locks of curly white hair tumbling loose from her black woollen hat. It was Elbitha, and she was watching me with the seriousness of the hunter that she was. The ride began before I could act and I was quickly thrown into a dangerous situation. Gravity held me flat against a cushioned wall and I was whirled back and forth in a circular steel tube. She looked on from the observation post above me and I realised with horror that I was completely helpless. I tried to move but the speed of the ride increased, my head sank back into the wall and I saw her smiling lips grin as she ordered “Now, section four, trap him”. The contraption roared to a halt and the last thing I remember before unconsciousness took me away was her face smiling above me, silently whispering the words, “Count Rimanez, welcome to 2008. The year will be your last”.26

When I awoke my body felt good, rested and fresh. I raised myself into a sitting position and realised that I was lying on a bed of white satin. The room was dark, but I could make out luxurious furnishings that told me I was not where I had expected to be. The room was large, a white rug made from the hide of a wild beast covered one section of the floor and a golden, jewel encrusted mirror spoke of a decadence that I had only once been accustomed to. One word came to my mind, Mircalla, could it be her? Could it really be her? 27

I stepped out of the bed, climbed into a red velvet dressing gown that was laid upon the seat of a fine Edwardian chair and walked towards the door. I felt for the handle and it turned with ease. The door opened and there she was, as beautiful as she always had been. Her blonde hair was cropped into a curly bowl and her blue eyes glistened with the mischievous ebullience of old. It was Mircalla; she had come back to me. I fell to the ground and wept, it was a dream, it just had to be a dream. But then she spoke to me, “Lucio, you impulsive fool. Has there ever been a trap that you have not fallen into?” The voice was unmistakably hers and I rushed to my feet, holding her in my arms and letting the emotion take over me with great weeping sobs of joy. She was real and I clutched to her like my life depended upon it. “Mircalla, what has happened? Where have you been? Where is the hunter? How did I get here? Where am I?” I had so many questions and they just fell to the ground like the tears of joy that escaped from my soul. She looked into my eyes, her beautiful face full of joy and love. “We need you back Lucio. I need you back. It is beginning again, it is all beginning again”.28