September 24, 2023

Humans are...bizarre creatures.

It feels unfair to categorize them so. He had been a human once, after all. Surely there were reasons for their strangeness. A lack of supernatural instincts. Inferior senses. Their predilection to...love. They were weak in nearly every sense; how could their choices and behavior be seen as anything but irrational?

It has been nearly 200 years since he was first turned, a time so far in the past as to be obscured in his memory—the one human feature that remains of him. It is a blessing he supposes; no immortal would wish to be saddled with a perfect memory that spans thousands of lifetimes. As humans forget, so does he. He knows, in the way one recalls facts and figures and trivia, that he was born a man with siblings and parents, that he was married and even had children. He remembers that he favored his daughter, Victoria. But he doesn't know whether she had brown curls or straight, blonde hair. He doesn't know if she lived to marry and have children or if her sons ever made anything of themselves. He could find out, he supposes. But...what does he care for that life, any longer?

Across the street from the pool of darkness he is currently concealed within, a woman stands on the corner, a street lamp over head. She is...advertising her wares, he supposes, leg popped attractively at an angle, her chest thrust out to catch the light and cast advantageous shadows. She salaciously greets the Johns who walk by, trying to tempt them into partaking in what she offers.

He wonders if the old him, the living one, would have been interested. Did he love his wife back then, when marriages among the higher class were made for financial and political expediency? Did they learn to love one another, or merely tolerate each other as most were known to do? He understands that humans today are more likely to marry for love, but that is equally perplexing to him. Had they no idea of how short their lifespans are? Did they not wish to elevate themselves as much as possible through personal alliances any longer? Love carries with it such a risk as heartbreak and person ruin: inadvisable.

He steps forward, out of the shadows. His would-be victim takes notice. He knows it is not instinct that motivates her now, for if it were, she would go inside the tavern a few feet from where she stands. She would seek safety in numbers. But no, in him she sees her own victim. Possibly a quick fuck and a few hundred bucks.

They both take the bait.