Listen to my Tale

"You will find stories of vampires in the Lettres Juives of [the Marquis] d'Argens [writer Jean-Baptiste de Boyer], whom the Jesuits....have accused of believing nothing. It should be observed how they triumph in the history of the vampire...; how they thanked God and the virgin for having at last converted this poor d'Argens....Behold, said they, this famous unbeliever, who dared to throw doubts on the appearance of the angel to the holy virgin; on the star which conducted the magi; on the cure of the possessed; on the immersion of two thousand swine in a lake; on an eclipse of the sun at the full moon; on the resurrection of the dead who walked in Jerusalem; his heart is softened, his mind is enlightened: He believes in vampires."

~Voltaire, Philosophical Dictionary, 1852

You have read the books, perhaps even seen the movie...but do not let yourself make the common mistake of believing you know someone simply because you know their name. It is one of the world's tragedies, and a fate I would hate for you to meet. With that said, please allow me to introduce myself, from the beginning...

There is not much that I can really recall about my mortal life. It went by so fast, so quickly, without leaving any real indentations or lasting marks. It was indeed, looking back on it now, a meaningless existence. I entered the world as quietly as I left it; and it was just as things were going smoothly that fate threw in some surprises to make rougher the ride.

I knew my direction, and in all naivitae, thought that I could predict where it would all end. There was nothing I had to do, no kind of hideous beast I had to destroy, no outrageous drama I had to commit to. I rose in the morning, tended to my family plantation Pointe du Lac during the day, and then peacefully went to sleep at night. On a whole, it grew to be monotonous and predictable, day after day, night after night. The same thing all over again.
But it was safer that way. If you knew what was to happen, then you could be positive about future outcomes.

It was when my beloved brother Paul reported seeing visions that things began to change around Pointe du Lac. It mingled with the scent of jasmine in the air, this change. And I knew at once that I did not like it.
How could I? I was twenty-five years old and thought that I knew all there was to know : maintain a good income, keep a full stock of slaves, and pray to the Lord on Sundays. It was as simple as that.
So, when my brother came to me to tell me of this God-sent vision he had experienced, I could all but believe him. It made no sense to me, and though I loved Paul with all my heart, I remained too conceited and self-assured to fall victim to his words. I think that I was afraid to believe in him. Afraid of anything that would result in an off-balancing change, and so quickly turning away anything that held the promise to do it. In those times, I was never accused of being versatile. And even now I find it difficult to deal with large life-changing situations. This incident with my brother was only the first such case.
You could imagine how I must have felt when Paul suddenly died his own tragic death, falling down a staircase and silencing any mysteries that he might have known. This, too, was also the start of my perpetual guilt which would eventually swallow me whole and cause me to plead for my own death.

"...whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end to them."

Would you continue living life, after one you dearly loved had passed away and yourself and numerous others held you responsible for the death? Or would you be stronger, a fighter, and continue after the misfortune to live a prosperous life? Needless to say, I chose the former.
Paul's death lead me to something far greater than I had ever known before. When a loved one dies whom you have cared for and cherished, these ominous feelings of despair and uncertainly often sink in. Had I been wrong in disbelieving my brother? Had he truly seen an image sent from God Almightly, a saint whose existence I had always assumed pragmatic and taken for granted?
As I've said, my life was simple in those days, and it was for the most part basic for everyone. It was believed that the only path to true happiness was to live a "good" life, and thus be accepted into heaven in the afterlife for eternal bliss. Life was only the leading up to this paradise, a badly written act of a play that must be followed through until the climax and standing ovation. My family and I, on the other hand, would have just assumed cut to the standing ovation. We had no troubles and a wealth of money and land on our hands. There had been nothing to be upset about.
And now there was everything to be upset about. I found my brother dead, and most certainly (as everyone thought) I must have had something to do with it. Guilt for me has and always will be a relentless feeling. It swallows you whole if you let it, and that's precisely what it did to me. I drowned my misery in alcohol, truly not caring anymore for anything that had to do with the outside world. I didn't care about anything or anyone, including myself. Indeed, the world was falling down on me; and I intended to watch it all the way through, let it cave in on me and crush my skull. It very nearly would have had it not been for him, and I think you all know who I refer to -- Lestat.

And so that's the story really, the long and short of it. I was like you once, dear reader, a human being with hopes and dreams, pain and strife. What you don't realize though, while you're living, is how valuable and precious your life really is.
There is no way to escape the pain and the agony you might feel, for it will find you if you're weak enough to let it, and it will bring you down no matter who or where you are. Don't be deceived by appearances, because quite more often than not, things are never what they seem to be. Those who think otherwise only delude themselves.

Home