By Benji The Vampire Confuser
Based on the Vampire Mythology of Buffy the Vampire Slayer created by Joss Whedon.
Whenever you see people in movies or TV having an identity crisis, they’re always looking at themselves in a mirror. Well I can’t do that, as hey, no reflection. Makes it kinda hard to shave if you know what I mean. So I had to tape a picture of myself to the bathroom mirror.
There I am, a year ago. Still human. Except, is that really me? That guy with the glasses, slightly crooked teeth and acne scars? My face tingles as I let my features slide into what is popularly called a Vampire’s “Game Face”. Still the glasses. Still the acne scars. The teeth are different though. Pointy, jagged, long. Took a while to not talk with a lisp. Then there’s the bumpy forehead, and yellow eyes. My sire took a photo of me on my “Birthday”, that’s how I know what I look like. I tape that picture to the mirror next to the other one.
The two me’s. One mortal, a fairly decent human being really, though kinda a wuss. The other, a Vampire. A demon that feeds off of human blood. Evil, destructive, violent. But which one is real. All the violence, all the sadistic pleasure I get from beating someone to a pulp with a bat, or my bare hands, the rush I get from the fear, and of course the blood, I remember all that being part of who I was when I was human.
Not that I’d ever have killed anyone when I was human. Much less beat someone up with a baseball bat. But I’d thought about it. People would make me so mad, and I longed to mete out punishment and just generally destroy things.
Maybe everyone felt like that once and a while. The columbine kids did. The only thing that separated me from kids like that is that, I didn’t do it. Thought about it. Fantasized about it maybe. But I didn’t. Because I’d get in trouble? Maybe. Mostly just because I knew it was wrong. Morality.
So here I am now, a Vampire. Morality doesn’t play any part anymore. That which made me a good person, my soul, is gone. So why do I still remember everything? My soul is what made me, me. So why do I still remember my whole mortal life? Why do I still have the same basic personality as when I was human? I’m still shy. I still like cats. I love the rain, hate opera, enjoy philosophical/theological discussions (like now). I watch Alias and Lost and read Harry Potter and comic books.
So I gotta wonder, is the soul really that important? Seems like everything that made me, me, is still here. It must have been stored in my brain, which the demon “inherited”.
And the Demon. Where did it come from? Is it like a replacement soul? The dark Lex Luthor half of my Clark Kent soul? What kind of Demon is it? Does it have any thought, personality of it’s own? Or is it a formless thing, completely non-sentient unless it inhabits a human host?
If I get staked, what happens? I’m kind of unliving proof of an afterlife in my opinion. Do I go to Hell? Would I like it there?
I’m kinda wierding myself out. Think I’ll go play Grand Theft Auto.