My Transformation

I sat on her headstone as I drank the blood of a recently decapitated rat.  Fog rolled through the cemetery as the warm drops of blood dripped down my throat.  It's ironic that I still visit this place after all these years.  I always blamed her for my transformation, and now eighty years later, I'm the undead, a souless creation of the night.  Wait.  Let me go back to the beginning.1

~~~~~2

The year was 2005, and my wife, Deborah, and I had just celebrated our third wedding anniversary.  I surprised my wife with a home-cooked delicious meal that I had spent hours preparing.  We enjoyed shrimp kabobs, marinated in white wine with a little garlic and oil as an appetizer.  For the entreé, we had filet mignon, grilled to a perfect medium rare.  We also ate fettuccine, tossed in a rich alfredo sauce and mixed vegetables.3

After our meal, I cleared the table and washed the dishes.  As I started a pot of coffee, I removed my homemade cake.  My wife peeked over my shoulder and saw the cake for the first time.  She began to cry.  I was so proud of my accomplishment, but I soon realized she was crying not because she loved my cake, but because she was mortified at the sight of it.  After a brief argument, I was off to the store to buy another.  4

It was late on a Thursday night; so, I went to a twenty-four hour supermarket.  I figured I could hit the bakery section and be home within forty-five minutes.  I pulled up to the store, but was unable to park due to a delivery truck blocking the entrance.  So, I pulled around back and walked around to the front.  I made my selection quickly and started back to my vehicle.  Now, I noticed the parking lot was unusually empty.  As I scurried toward my car, a cold mist rolled in.  The light in the parking lot, shining on my vehicle, flickered, then went dead.  Before I could react, I felt hands upon my shoulder.  I was paralyzed with fear as he sunk his teeth into my neck.  I could feel the life drain from my body as he drank my blood.  My heart raced as it worked overtime to compensate for my falling blood pressure.  Just as I was about to pass out, I was released, and I fell to the floor.  Lying on my side, blood pouring from my body, I blinked and tried to concentrate on the anniversary cake which was just out of my grasp.5

The following morning, I awoke in a hospital bed, surrounded by my family and friends.  I came to my senses, and they told me I had been attacked by a wolf or a wild dog.  Apparently, two security officers, just finishing their shifts, stumbled upon the attack and startled the animal.  The doctors told me I had lost a lot of blood, and I was lucky to be alive.  Forty-eight hours later, I was released from the hospital, and I returned home.6

After coming home, I began to notice changes immediately.  I could hear and see things more clearly than I ever had in my past.  I could smell people and animals moving around the properties that bordered mine.  I became extremely sensitive to light.  I lost my once insatiable appetite for food.  7

Ten days had passed since my attack, and I could feel the night calling me more and more.  I hadn't eaten in over a week, and I was beginning to go mad with hunger for blood.  I couldn't explain why, but I had begun killing small animals and drinking their blood.  It was the only thing that would pacify my hunger.  8

Now, two weeks after my attack, I was paid a visit by my attacker.  Even though he moved more quickly than human eyes could see, I had no problem making him out, and I knew he was there before he arrived.  He taught me the secrets of the night and told me what I had become.  He stayed with me long enough for me to make my first kill.  9

I moved with lightening speed and razor sharp accuracy.  Driven by an animalistic hunger, I attacked.  She was a college-aged girl, who had apparently had a little too much to drink.  As she shuffled her keys around, trying to gain access to her vehicle, I was directed to strike.  Before my victim could even scream, I was already upon her, hands grasped around her throat.  I squeezed the life out of her as I stared into her eyes.  My mentor yelled out, "Take her, Logan!  She'll make a fine meal."10

Before I realized what was happening, instinct took over.  With my razor sharp claws, I ripped open her belly, disemboweling her.  As pools of blood and excrement dripped to the floor, I began to salivate.  I pulled her head back, sunk my teeth in, and drank.  The blood quenched a thirst that I had never felt before.  I had become a predator of the night.  I had become a vampire.  11

~~~~~12

The year is now 2085, and I haven't aged a day.  My wife had passed thirty years prior due to natural causes.  After my transformation, I left my home and lived as a creature of the night.  Although I blamed my wife for my transformation, something continued to draw me to her, and I would frequently visit to see how she was faring.  13

Now I come to this place once a year.  I sit on her headstone on our wedding anniversary and think of the life we could have had together.  14

I head off into the night in search of a meal.  In the beginning, I would kill people just to survive.  Now, I do it just to watch their facial expression change.  It's amazing what people say or do when they have just moments to live.  The best part about the kill is no two people taste the same.  15

I currently live in the Pacific Northwest of the continent of North America.  During the day, I sleep, rest, and gather my strength.  I'm protected by two siberian husky/wolf hybrids, named Natasha and Szievesen.  At night, I prowl the streets looking for my next meal.  Don't drink too much, or park in an unlit area.  Make sure you keep your wits about you at all times for I am lurking in dark corners, waiting to strike.16