An excerpt from his novel THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS.
What a headache. . .I can't understand what's happened to me. I have never felt so terrible in my life before. Everything hurts. I hope things will not be like this after I turn 21 next week. My God, what the. . . Where the hell am I? What is this? Oh my God! ! ! Someone's locked me in some damned coffin! ! ! What's going on here! ! !
"Hey! Can anyone hear me?"
Damn, I can't understand this. I have to find a way out of here. Damn. This isn't easy. I feel nothing but some wooden boards which I must somehow take apart. How did I end up in here anyway? Dear Lord Jesus, I've been buried alive! Mud and rocks fall over my face and body as I tear away the wood. Lord Jesus, help me. I must break away more of these damned boards. I can't believe this is happening to me. . . It was actually much easier than I expected it to be. I dig more dirt out of the way to disinter myself. There's a lot of digging, like a mole. My God, how much further before I reach the surface? How deep was I anyway? I don't know how much longer I can last.
Exhumed at last! Now, what the hell's happened here? I'm in the middle of a graveyard! Am I dead? It's so dark, so cold. Dear God, what's happened to me? Have I died and not noticed it? I'm still breathing. I can see, smell, touch, feel, and think. I am alive. . .
I can't remember my name. The grave I just dug myself out of is unmarked. Who am I, to be unworthy of a personalized grave? Who am I? How did I get here? I'm freezing. I'm hungry. The stars are my only friends tonight, the only faces I can recognize. I weep like a child. It's been so long since I last cried. I must remember my name at least. I know my birthday is sometime next week. If I can remember that, I should remember more about myself. I wonder if the sun will dry my tears when he shows his face in the morning. God, I'm so lost, so lonely. I'll find my way back home, wherever that is, in the morning. Hopefully by then, I'll remember who I am.
Bright warm sun! Am I glad to see you! Oh, it still hurts to move. I still cannot remember who I am. I'm starving, and I really need some water for this thirst. I can smell a pool of water nearby, some kind of pond. It must be somewhere behind those shrubs. God, how did I end up in this jungle? I don't even recognize the graveyard. It's like I have never been here before.
Water! Fantastic! I knew I had smelled it. Mmmmm, at last, so cooling. . . Aghhh! It tastes horrible! So dirty. But after digging my way out of that grave, I could use a bath. The water looks. . . AAAUGHHH! ! ! MY GOD! ! ! WHAT'S HAPPENED TO MY FACE! ! ! ???
This is not the face I remember having. I do remember what I looked like. Dear God, this can't be happening. What's happened to me? Who am I? I am a monster, a freak. Dear God. . . I've been weeping as a child who's lost his favorite toy. I have calmed down for the moment. I am so depressed. I know I once possessed a handsome face and body. But now, I've become something so repulsive. . . so hideous . . .I can't even look at my reflection in the water. Why me? What am I? I can't even figure out what has happened to me, yet, I cannot deny the horror evidenced before me. I'm straining to recall my past, a past hidden in me, within this rotting and decayed yet animated corpse. What should I do? Where can I go? I can't let anyone see me like this. They'll be frightened to death! What can I do?
Children. I hear kids. I hear two boys racing playfully towards the water. I can't let them see me like this. I'll just hide behind these bushes. They're thick enough to obscure this foul and decayed form. I don't want to frighten anyone. Particularly, innocent children. Perhaps I can follow them back to civilization without them noticing me. I can get help!
Watching them from a distance, I can see them trying to catch some frogs or fish. What unusual garments they are wearing. . .They may be my only hope of finding my way out of here. Maybe they'll help. . .
"Hey boys, I need help over here. Could you get me a doctor? Please, I'm hurt real bad. . ."
"Who said that?" the smaller one said.
"I'm over here, behind the bushes. I'm hurt real bad. I've been burned. Please get me a doctor." I lied about the burning. I needed to explain my horrible appearance before they set their eyes upon me.
"Which bushes, the one with the yellow flowers?" said the smaller one again.
"No David, what if it's a pervert!?" the older, bigger boy said.
"But what if he's really hurt?" asked David.
"I'm really hurt. Please go get some help. Please." A mournful cry emanated from my lips as I supplicated.
The boys behaved cautiously. I meant no harm as I spoke with them. I continued:
"Please get some help. Please help me. . ."
"David, you go get Dad to call for help. I'll stay and wait. Better hurry up, O.K."
Great! I can't stand it any longer. I feel so repulsive and so very ugly. . .like such vermin. I'm a hideous monster. Hopefully they'll take me to the hospital where I can be treated for this condition, whatever it is. Suddenly, I'm becoming aware of my feelings. A sudden urge is overcoming my body, my instincts. I feel an unknown desperation, a hunger I've never known. As the older boy approaches, I can smell him. I can sense his flesh, his blood. I can actually feel his heartbeat even though he's a few feet away from me. He's coming closer. I desire. . .his. . .NO!!! This is lunacy! This can't be. How could I be craving to eat him? Dear God, he's only trying to help me. The closer he gets, the more I want him. I can't help my thoughts! Dear God!!! A little closer. Yes. Yes. That's it. A little more and you're mine, you beautiful, tender boy. . .
"What's your name, kid?"
"Mike. Are you sure you're hurt?"
"Yeah, I can't seem to be able to move. Could you come over and help me stand up? I think my leg is broken."
"AAAAAGGHH!!! NO!!! MOM!!!! DAD!!!!!!!OOOOH!!!!!!!"
I wish he hadn't screamed the way he did, calling for his mother and all that. . . I can't believe I have done what I have done. Somehow, I feel I really needed his blood. I felt this insatiable need for his blood, his heart and I couldn't help myself. God, what have I done? How can I deal with this guilt? I don't deserve absolution. . . How could I have done that? Is this what I will be from now on, a cannibal beast who realizes it's wrong to kill, yet, who cannot stop tearing into his victim's chest just to have a taste of the blood? The heart? Dear God. . .have mercy on my soul. . .help me.
My body falls apart as I walk around. My ears fell out, but yet, I can hear better than I ever had. My nose fell off my face yesterday and I can still smell. It is so depressing to be such a monster. I walk by day and night. I'm a prisoner of this hideous and rotting form. I sob constantly in deep sorrow. Not only for myself, but also for my victims. It's been over two weeks or so. . .I've lost track of the days. . . and I remember each victim as vividly as the first boy, Mike. I've attacked both adults and children. Men and women. I know it is wrong and evil. However, when I smell their flesh, even from a distance, I am overcome by this evil hunger from deep within me. It's a force I cannot fight or restrain. I can't fathom how I can hunger for them in any way. My weak flesh is helpless against my hunger. It's as though I'm a predator for living blood, a fiend with no remorse or mercy until I have finished feeding. Only then, I am overcome with the most painful guilt. I cry and cry and nothing satiates me until I feed on another victim. This existence is, in every sense of definition, hell and damnation. I have absolutely no control over my body's desire for their blood. I abhor it.
I am so lonely. . .Dear God, please help me out of this. My fear is, I'll probably devour any potential companion or friend. . .
I hear dogs. Dozens of dogs. I also hear men. Fearful, yet brave men hunting for a killer. That killer is me. I have been killing in these parts of the woods for weeks and it's time they sent a search party. Thank you God!!! Now is my opportunity to be redeemed. Let them destroy me, for I don't deserve to live. Only death could grant me peace. I will not make any efforts to hide or to run. I want to die and be saved from all this evil, this private hell of suffering which has been made mine.
The dogs have picked up on my scent, my foul stench. The men are eager, afraid and angry. I could sense it. They are each armed with powerful weapons and I hope they are qualified to kill. I do not want to survive this. I am the hunted now and I welcome my death with open arms. Death's dark and cold embrace should be sweeter than the blood I have devoured, greater than the damnation I suffer. But, what was my crime before I became what I am? Dear God, you know I belong in the grave. Take me. . .
A frenzied panic is the only way to describe the situation when they saw me. I tore apart one of the dogs as he attacked me. My strength astonished me. The men fired their weapons and I was hit numerous times in just about every part of my body by the piercing bullets. Blood gushed out of me and gave off a revolting stench. The revelation suddenly hit me: I am immortal. After all, I came from a grave. That means, if I came from a grave, I must already be dead. The dead cannot be killed. It simply certified to me: I AM THE DAMNED. I am the corpse. . .
Perhaps it matters no longer who I was in the past. My name and my sense of identity are for aye lost. What good would any trace of memory be if I cannot live with my past identity? My body seems unharmed from the bullets. I'm an eternally rotting corpse. I don't get better, and I don't get worse. It appears my body's cells regenerate despite injury or my natural state of decomposition. I constantly watch the maggots crawl out of my skin and eat their way back into my skin again as dolphins pierce the surface of the ocean and dive back in. It's truly a revolting sight, but, what can I do?
The hunger has no mercy on me. My hunger for living blood enslaves me to a perpetual hunt. God, I'm in Hell. Dear God, what's to become of me? Why have you forsaken me? Dear God?!!! Why do I bother to waste my time on a deaf God? A deaf heaven who never hears my cries. The torment has haunted me as I've haunted these woods with my savagery, my evil. I, as the music of the masters from centuries past, am immune to death. I'll probably never see salvation. When all the stars crash upon our mother Earth, and the mountains and continents sink into the seas, I will still remain here. NO!!!!!!!!!!