Writing is the occupation of choice for vampires.

Writing is the occupation of choice for vampires. Writers often have unusual personalities, so we often go unnoticed.

Vampirism is certainly a popular genre and has been since the 19th century. Back then dip pens and quills were more popular than word processors and TV shows, yet the essence of the story rarely changes, and eons of experience on earth gives you quite a story to tell.

Years of emotions briefly elated yet inevitably destroyed time upon time through centuries of loss on seeing everyone you love buried beneath the ground you once shared makes for a lucrative income when writing accounts.

Mourning the deaths of lovers you are yet to meet. To see death in their eyes while they are still in full bloom. To see the grave upon them before they felt the first pains of ageing and knowing within a few moments of my own life, I will never know their kindness or love again.

To grieve by their graves and wishing I was buried with them yet knowing I will live on, wandering through time from one grave to the next.

In time, I met a woman of such beauty, such vulnerable, needful, eyes, that I became lost to love again.

The years tumbled by, seemingly days to me, she aged and became frail, yet I loved her. She had little time left, and yet I loved her and at her life's end, as I held her face and pushed my cheek against hers, I begged her to believe that her death was okay. "It's okay baby, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay," and then she was gone. She left this Earth and took everything she meant to me with her. Yet for her life in the briefest of moments, I gave her everything.

Big sleep, sweetheart.

It was one death too many and it finally broke my heart. And in the following weeks, and at my most vulnerable, the essence of vampirism, Satan himself, took me back to a place I once abandoned in favor of God so many years ago. I plunged head first into that hell with no thought of God at all in the hope of buying respite from the grief I held so deeply inside:

www.fetbook.co.uk

Little Red Riding Blood.

Perhaps if I was offered a banquet of blood wrapped in the sweetest of things, I'd indulge myself fully. Unless I was abstaining. Which in this wonderfully vampiric world may happen. And before a paid a visit to Red Riding Blood, I was six years clean.Those around me, my kin, my clan, my fellow vampires, have already fallen. The kind that'd happily lick the rim of a toilet if they took a fancy to the girl whose period spattered it. The kind of creatures that could bring you to your knees simply

My kin, my clan, had been waiting for me all along, days to them since I left, a lifetime for others.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lcQcZLyrR0