How does one vampire?

[Gox]

Walking out of the bustling downtown area of Chicago, I stood on the precipice of adulthood, a mix of exciting emotions boiling in my gut or maybe that was my lunch, but either way, I had done it. Fresh out of college at the age of 20, which kind you is not normal. I spent more late nights studying movies than I thought was congruent to my mental or physical health, but I had done it, and my entrepreneurial dreams beckoned, calling me like the arms of a lover. With the minor mental monologe over I stopped walking waiting for the light to change but as i waited a pretty black cat walking infront of as i looked down i thought about changing directions just to avoid walking past the invisible line the little creature had cut but before I could it walked a around me making an almost perfect square, soon after the cat walked away while i looked with on with eyes of literal what the living fuck. You could say I'm superstitious, and I'd agree I'm half Haitian and half Haitian, and my granny taught me better, but soon the light changed and the crowd behind me started to press forward so I had to take a reluctant step forward. Soon, I crossed the street safely and exhaled. I had no plan on running foul of anything man-made or unnatural, not with my life looking up.

I continued walking down the street looking forward to telling my sister and mom the good news just the thought put a pep in my step shuffling down the road to my my own sound stark and my eyes glossing over the various people that walked past me and around me as the city lights twinkled, I stopped, i had reached my bus stop.

Barely 5 minutes after getting there a bus rolled to a stop in front me. Without hesitation, I bored and tapped my phone against the terminal and waited for it to flash green, letting me know I was safe to walk down and take a seat, even if I doubted that the bus driver cared. As the screen flashed green I shuffled down and walked my way to the back not and took a seat, I got comfortable knowing that my stop was a ways away but before I could even get my phone out to scroll the on one or more apps and websites the thing all public transit riders gate happened, a mixed bag of teenagers some looking older and others younger than me, walked on being loud and living but most concernedly running from another group with the sound of sirens following.

"Shit, just perfect "

As I sat there in my seat I let out a alright and verbal excrement knowing my rider was in for either a delay or just a long and loud ride, but before I could even I could contemplate getting off the sound of gunshots rangout I soon ducked and tried to make myself as little possible but a pain the my side made it difficult.

"Who shoots the back of a bus, can the motherfuckers just not aim"

As I lay on the floor, I tried to breathe, but immediately, a wet feeling filled my chest.

"Shit my lung"

I laid there now less in a coordinated huddle but more in a spark struggling to find a position that didn't hurt. Soon, I tried to get up, but I was back on the floor not by choice but because the shooting hadn't stopped. In fact the motherfuckers on the bus shot back but soon the dumb ass was the least of my concerns as trying to stand only caused my lung to fill with more blood.

I decided lying there was better than anything else right now, and so I did, but soon my breaths became shallower. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, but I had one saving grace: I could hear the sirens of cop cars a lot from what I could hear.

" 'bout fucking time"

That was a mistake, my body hurt more and a cold feeling had started to spread.....I don't think imma get a chance to tell my dad. He should be getting back soon, too. My mom always made our favorites when he got back....


----------------- Prologue p2.--------------


Walking out of the bustling downtown area of Chicago, I stood on the precipice of adulthood and true freedom, a mix of exciting emotions boiling in my gut. Maybe that was my lunch, but either way, I had done it. I'd practically graduated college at the age of 19, which, mind you, is not normal, but it was easy. Everything was like a lifelong case of Deja vu, and auto pilot studying wasn't needed, at least not more than a few hours a week. But I had done it; my entrepreneurial journey beckoned, calling me like the arms of a lover. With the minor mental monologe over I stopped walking waiting for the light to change but as i waited a pretty black cat walking infront of as i looked down i thought about changing directions just to avoid walking past the invisible line the little creature had cut but before I could it walked a around me making an almost perfect square, soon after the cat walked away while i looked with on with eyes of literal what the living fuck.

You could say I'm superstitious, and I'd agree I'm half Haitian and half Haitian, and my granny taught me better, but soon the light changed and the crowd behind me started to press forward so I had to take a reluctant step forward. But I crossed the street safely and exhaled I had no plan on running fowl of anything unnatural, not with my life just begging, I continued walking down the street, my mom still had work and my older sister was still at college so I was headed home to sleep and start planning out my next step.

My actual next step had me shuffling down the road to my own soundtrack and my eyes glossing over the various people that walked past me and around me as the city lights twinkled, but as I walked my eyes meet the ones of man bit before I could do more the blink he was gone, melding into the crowd like a ghost.

After that weird encounter, I soon reached my bus stop. Barely 8 minutes after getting there a bus rolled to a stop in front me without hesitation. I bored and tapped my phone against the terminal and waited for it to flash green, letting me know I was safe to walk down and take a seat, even if I doubted that the bus driver cared. As the screen flashed green, I shuffled down, walked my way to the back, and took a seat. I got comfortable, knowing that my stop was a ways away. Soon, I got comfortable and relaxed, and before the third stop, I was asleep.

I woke up too someone getting on the bus, without much of a rush I slowly got up and stretched, tears if riding the bust had given me the ability to take naps and wake up within 1 or 2 stops if my home, I glanced towards to front of the bust to see my what street I was on, with rush or panic I saw I was 1 stop past my apartment 2 blocks in distance. Grabbing my stuff, I pulled the stop line and rushed towards the exit.

Without a pause, the doors opened as the bus rolled to a stop.

"Thanks" was the best I could scream before I was out on the street and running to the sidewalk, once I had Stepped foot on concrete I was clear as soon began to walk now in a little bit more of a rush the before I decided to m take a shortcut and cut through a an ally.

As I walked on the dirty cracked and worn concrete venturing through the alley, not even halfway through I felt my body be restricted arms pressed to my side all before I felt two sharp pricks on the side of my neck and the I felt week it was an immediate sensation but even more I felt a slow cold sliding spreading creeping down my body.


Soon I started to try and move, panic spreading even faster than the cold. I started to thrash and move, but whatever had me just tightened its grip. As the cold finally covered the entirety of my body, I felt a searing pain from my back, and it was pushing forward. Soon, my pain made the cold look like goosebumps. I struggled to breathe, if only to gasp and scream, but as air filled my lungs, blood filled in an equal manner. As I felt that feeling of wetness and heaviness filling my lungs, another wave of deja vu flooded me.


.....cold now absolutely covered the entirety of my body but I felt as if I was missing something as if the step was only half finished, at that moment I looked down and saw a rather large sword was poking out of my chest. And then it clicked. My perception shattered, images overlapped, memories new....now old. A life almost the same but different.

Then it was dark.

"Twice fucking twice, I haven't even made it to 21 yet ....at least got got jade this time and laid....I guess it's okay."

 

[Gox]

"...coldness, absolute, covered the entirety of my body, yet I sensed a missing element, as if the step was only half finished. At that moment, I looked down and saw it—a rather large sword protruding from my chest. And then it clicked—perception shattered, images overlapped, memories new yet now old. A life almost identical but different.

Then, darkness embraced me.

"Twice, damn it. I haven't even hit 21 yet. At least I got Jade this time and laid. I guess it's okay."

The darkness cradled me as I traversed the liminal space between what was and what would be. Images flickered—Chicago's skyline. It was a disjointed montage, a tapestry of a world I had lived in twice now.

As the darkness enveloped my consciousness, the ephemeral transition led me to a place neither here nor there. A spectral realm where echoes of my former self danced with the promise of rebirth.

Then Chicago sprawled before me, unfolding like a time-lapse of a painting, its city lights further illuminating the night scenery. Soon, the world solidified, and the taste of blood lingered in my mouth, a visceral reminder of the sword that had once impaled me.

From where I stood, a black cat prowled into view, circling me once more before vanishing into the night. But before it completely disappeared, I saw it—its eyes held a knowing gleam, as if aware of the unspoken pact forged in understanding.

Then, an old man materialized from the shadows, his presence a blend of mystery and mentorship but altogether unfamiliar.

"Joseph Augustin," he intoned, his voice carrying a weight that dripped into my very mind, sticking to my thoughts, preventing me from thinking, from speaking—all of my attention forcefully drawn to his words. "You are reborn, a First Blood unbound by ties to sire or coven. Yours is a legacy untouched, a destiny unwritten."

His words echoed in the nocturnal air, unraveling intricacies that I didn't understand, as if all was supposed to be explained.

"Sire or born, you are unbound," the old man continued. "A First Blood, biologically distinct from the brethren, free to create and shape your lineage. Know your weaknesses—sunlight, silver, and faith. Know what you are—a First Blood, a vampire without sire or familia, tasked with ensuring the birth and life of not just the vampire race but their bloodline."

"Embrace your uniqueness, Joseph Augustin," the old man urged, fading into the shadows once more. "For you stand at the precipice of a symphony of shadows, where the nocturnal dance awaits your every step as a vampire."

As the old man faded, my mind cleared, the stick feeling dissolving, and the world around me shattered. And I was back, lying on the ground of an alley. Before I could piece together what had happened, I smelled it—gut-turning, stifling. I stopped breathing; I couldn't bear to smell it anymore. I pushed myself up, keeping my mouth shut and avoiding deep breaths. As I stood, my body felt weird—restricting, itchy skin, aching bones, screaming tendons, and tearing muscles.

Then it hit me like a car with no brakes. My body dropped as my stomach forcefully expelled everything. It didn't stop with lunch and breakfast; floods of red spewed out like a B-list horror movie. Even then, it didn't stop—green and yellow turned to red, and red changed to black. As I lay there, I had heard of people purging for detoxification, removing impurities, but lying next to the puddle, I could only think of how empty it left me. How inadequate those words felt.

As I lay there, I felt empty, drained of everything. Then I saw it—the pool of refuse slowly boiling and evaporating.

"That's not good."

Those words were a mistake. After speaking, I tried to breathe, and the stench hit me. It was as if the sewers had spilled into the streets and then lit on fire. The smell alone forced me to my feet and out of the alley. I could recall everything—the old man, his words, the sword impaling me—but in all honesty, I couldn't care. I was tired, so tired, but I was also hungry. I couldn't focus, and I was barely able to walk, but I did, and I kept walking, forcing my legs to move, taking each step one at a time. The moon was still up in the bleached night sky, but it was falling quickly, and the rays of the sun were peeking over the horizon by the time I entered my apartment. Once inside, I shuffled towards my room and slumped out of my clothes and into bed. These sheets would have to be thrown away, but I didn't care.

I woke with the sunset and hunger. As I woke up, that feeling of unfamiliar discomfort in my own body was there but less. I ignored it and got up, stepping into the bathroom and looking into the mirror. My eyes had turned a vibrant shade of yellow, almost like gold. With realization, everything hit me at once—all the experiences from my previous lives. I speed-ran my life, saving me an extra year. I looked into the mirror and forced my mind to focus. I was no longer human. Panic wanted to take over, but a lethargic feeling spread over my mind, as if this was just another Tuesday. I tried to think, find why I was one in this life and not the previous. What was different? I began to scan my memories as I stepped into the shower, trying to scrub the feeling of wrongness away. It wouldn't go away. Changing focus, I looked at myself. My body was the same—a 5 '9, lightly padded with fat but slim body of even proportions.

"No, a perfect body. Bummer."

With that alone, my drive to scrutinize myself died. Not that I didn't like my body; it's that nothing had changed. So, I delved back into my memories and started to look. My first life was simple, nothing strange, no real evidence for the supernatural.

But in this world, holidays were different, more sacred; events were unexplainable throughout history, and cities and places were just built differently. My old life, and then I'm there, in the annals of history, going back as far as recorded history, people that stood out in this world that didn't before. Small differences, such as someone who died in the Civil War or in the battle of Gettysburg, or the siege of Orleans.


I saw it there—death counts not the same; people who had been confirmed dead were not dead; a rise in disappearances. Spread out enough and during times of conflict to not be noticeable unless you were to compare.

A diversion from my previous world just great enough to draw my attention. I kept looking, jumping really far back this time. After a point, it was the same, but not because the supernatural wasn't there. Artifacts and lost cities said otherwise. It was because the spread of information, people writing down history, was just not accurate. I started to scan forward, skipping much of the early A.D. (B.C.) Era. The supernatural started to pop up then—a man who said to have lived for a thousand years spoke about two different versions of the world, the term "vampire" appearing in battles like Sekigahara, a woman with nine tails saving lives in the Battle of Sekigahara, and a deep-rooted reason behind Japan's spirituality—either a werewolf or a kitsune.

From the American Revolution to Alexander the Great's conquest, this world's history was different. It wasn't just the supernatural; many lost or diminished ethnic groups and their cultures still existed, most being Indigenous ones lost to forced occupation and colonization. Although now they were more like minorities, making up only 20% across the board.

As I finished the shower, I gathered what I needed. Why this time? Why me? I wasn't special; this was just a different world, and I was unlucky enough to die. Either I reincarnated, or I inherited a different version of my own memories.

I had thought enough and figured enough out that I knew my life was no longer on autopilot, and I planned on using it to the fullest. I started drying off, getting as much water off me as I could. I had been ignoring hunger since I woke up, figuratively killing me, but now it felt as if my stomach was eating itself. I stopped delaying and decided—no college, no family, no vegan vampire nonsense for me. I rushed into my dresser and grabbed some clean clothes—a pair of socks, loose black pants, and a grey sweater. Once done, I grabbed a pair of running shoes and sneaked out of my room and out of the house.

I had been ignoring my heightened senses, blocking them out as best I could, but I knew my mother was asleep. I instinctively knew where and how to step to avoid making noise. I reached the bottom floor of my building and exited the door, trying to inhale deeply. But I was once again greeted with a smell that made me double over. It was all around me, and I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I tried to ignore it, taking shallow breaths, and then I was off running. I needed to find food, but I also needed to test myself, my speed—my new abilities in general.

 

[Gox]

The city embraced me as I sprinted through its arteries, my newly heightened senses absorbing every sight, every smell, every sound. My steps, now rhythmic and purposeful, pounded out a tune of the hunt, echoing through the night. The air crackled with the scent of life, each heartbeat resonating through alleys and boulevards, the sounds leaking from walls, echoing from inside homes.

As I ran, the city's sounds became a symphony—footsteps, distant laughter, the hum of electricity pulsing through neon signs. I reveled. I wasn't fast, but I was faster than before, far faster, the surroundings stretching but not quite blurring. I had been running for minutes, and I wasn't tired. All-out sprinting, yet not a drop of sweat appeared.

Each stride tested how fast and how far I could go. That didn't mean I was stupid. I stuck to shadowed streets, alleys, or, if necessary, main streets with as few people as possible.

I rounded corners with the grace of a creature utterly unhuman. I practically flew through the streets, my senses attuned to every sound and scent. The hunger in my stomach was a nagging reminder, a craving for sustenance that pushed me forward. I needed blood, not out of desperation but as a primal necessity. I was no longer playing the innocent child or noble warrior; I was now a hunter, and to survive, I needed one thing.



Eventually, my heightened senses guided me to a darker corner of the city, away from prying eyes. The smell of stale beer and desperation lingered in the air. I spotted a lone figure in the shadows, a heartbeat pulsating, beating loud against the quiet of the night city.

I approached silently, my movements a blend of stealth and foreign elegance. The victim, unaware of the impending encounter, occupied fumbling a cigarette. A smirk played on my lips; I had no illusion that what I was doing was right or okay, but I did not care. I wouldn't kill him, but his blood would be mine.

In a moment, I was upon him. A whisper of wind carried my voice, "Do you hear it too? The heartbeat of the city?"

Startled, the man turned to face me, eyes widening with a mix of fear and curiosity. My presence set off every alarm bell in his addled mind. I leaned in, his pulse resonating with the rhythm of my hunger.

"Sleep," I murmured, sinking my teeth into his neck. An unfamiliar taste greeted me—the expected coppery taste was gone, replaced with a warm and intoxicating one that flooded my senses. He began to struggle and fight, but with unfamiliar strength, I held him fast, my hands simply holding him there with little struggle.

As I drank, memories flickered before me. The old man's words echoed in my mind, a reminder of my unique existence—First Blood, unbound by sire or coven, destined to shape my own lineage. The darkness within me whispered secrets, unraveling the intricacies of this new reality.

When the feeding was done, I released my hold, and the man wobbled, barely able to stand. With a new instinct, I grabbed him by his head and looked into his eyes. I willed my words to be the only thing he could focus on, and I told him to forget, to rest, and to leave. Soon enough, I was running again, and the city's heartbeat continued, undisturbed. My own heart thudded with a new kind of life.

With a flick of my wrist, I wiped the traces of blood from my lips, a ritualistic acknowledgment of the dance's end. The city's pulsating energy had enveloped me as I ran alley to alley, feeding and compelling until at last, I felt full.


As dawn approached, painting the skyline with hues of orange and pink, I retreated, running home as fast as possible. I needed to shower, clean my room, and figure out what the hell was up. So I did—I ran. But it was different; I was fast now, faster than before. The world wasn't a blur, but out of the corner of my eyes, I watched as the world stretched just a little. Eventually, I made it home, but I didn't walk in. I had glossed over too much. My mind was clear, but details and information were pushed to the back. I started running again, this time towards an alley. Once there, I stopped. I hadn't expected the puddle of bowel and refuse to still be there or the person who bit me, nor the sword, but I needed to figure this out. I had hunted; I had done the impossible. As I thought about my death, I wasn't greeted with remorse, horror, or any negative emotion. Instead, I felt excitement for something new. Once in the alley, I let go of my senses—the smell was there, but now only one of many. My eyes caught particles of dust remains, and my nose smelled blood, lots of it. But pushing past it, I smelled fear—mine. I pushed past it until I smelled something akin to iron, leaving an itching feeling in the back of my throat, similar to copper but finer and more distinct, leaving me disturbed.

I tried to follow the smell, but it disappeared once I exited the alley. With no other recourse, I left. I walked home and just enjoyed the night until I reached my apartment building. But as I searched my pockets, I came to the most basic of realizations.

"No keys."

I didn't worry; this wasn't the first time I had left my key. I walked around to the back of the apartment complex and hopped the fence, walking towards a path that followed in between two buildings. My room was on the second floor, not that bad. Even luckier for me, I was stuck with the room that had a window that pointed towards the apartment building next to ours. With far more ease than I had ever had before, I climbed up using metal window guards, bricks, and the closeness of the two buildings to my aid.

Eventually, I reached my room and pulled my window open. Not even a second later, I was inside. My room was thankfully empty of people, instead replaced with a mess of clothes, books, and a random assortment of items. With haste, I grabbed the sheets on my bed. I could smell a mix of sweat, blood, and just nasty. I could smell that along with refuse coming from my clothes from yesterday. I decided that I would need garbage, so I slumped out of my room and into the hallway. From there, I slowly walked past my mom and dad's room and into the kitchen, where I reached under the counter and into a cabinet, grabbing a black garbage bag.


Once I had it, I needed to slow down and test some things. I opened the fridge, pulled out a plate of leftover food, and slid it into the microwave. While waiting, a wave of tiredness flooded over me, leaving me feeling sluggish. All of my actions slowed down; even my heartbeat began to slow. I looked around, and I saw that the sun had begun to rise, its rays just barely peeking through the living room window.

With a beep, the microwave signaled that my food was done. I pressed a button, and the door sprung open. I reached in, grabbed the plate, and waited for it to cool. It was a race against time as I could hear my mom shuffling, and the rays had begun to stretch as the sun rose. I decided that waiting was no longer an option. Grabbing a spoon and the plate, I walked back towards my room. Once there, I used the spoon to scoop some of the rice, guiding it towards my tongue.

"Tastes like Spanish rice," I said after eating it. I waited to see if my body would have a negative reaction, but I felt nothing. I soon finished the plate and waited, not knowing what eating would do to me. I sat there until I noticed my phone on the floor, and with ever-slowing movements, I reached out and grabbed my phone.

Missed calls 14
Jade (10)
Mom (3)
Big sis (1)

Missed texts 71

"Shit," I muttered as I looked down at my phone. I realized I had forgotten—no, I had pushed this to the side. With hesitation, I got up forcefully, bringing my body to the door and opening it while texting Jade.

Me: J, sorry I didn't text or call you back until now. I did it; I got my master's degree, but I'm taking a few night classes, so my sleep schedule changed. That's why you haven't seen me. I just got home, and I'll be going to sleep soon.

After sending that message, I closed my phone. I didn't want to read the messages yet; I needed to tell my mom the same thing, to get ahead of the situation before it worsened. I walked down the hall towards my mom's room and knocked.

"Yes, Buddha?" My mother replied after a short wait.

"I did it, ma. I was approved to fast-track my master's degree in business & economics yesterday, but I still have a few more classes. To get them done quickly, I scheduled them for night classes." My words rang out, filling the quiet morning. At least until my mother yanked the door open and looked at me, flabbergasted. I hadn't told her what my plans were. In my previous life, I had always been a responsible and quiet kid, getting straight A's and perfect attendance.

My mother's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and concern as she took in my words. The early morning sunlight streaming through the window illuminated her face, revealing the lines of worry that etched themselves across her forehead.

"Joseph, my God! You were going after masters without telling me?" Her voice held a blend of disbelief and pride, and I couldn't help but crack a small smile at her reaction.

"Yeah, ma," I replied, scratching the back of my head nervously. "I wanted to surprise you once everything was finalized. It's just a few more classes to tie up loose ends."

Her initial shock transformed into a warm smile, and she pulled me into a tight embrace. "I can't believe it. You've always been my overachiever, huh?"

I chuckled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. "Guess so, ma. I just wanted to let you know before you heard it from someone else. And, uh, sorry for not keeping you in the loop."

She held me at arm's length, studying my face. "It's okay, Joseph. I'm just happy and proud of you. But why night classes? You know I worry when you're out late."

I sighed, choosing my words carefully. "It's just for a little while, ma. The classes are essential for wrapping up my degrees quickly. Once they're done, I'll go back to a normal schedule, I promise."

Her expression softened, and she nodded understandingly. "You always do things your own way, don't you?"

I grinned. "Well, that's what makes me me, right?"

She chuckled, ruffling my hair. "Just like your father. Always ambitious and a little stubborn. I suppose I can't argue with success."

But before I could utter a response, the slowly brightening hallway unveiled my mom's prideful but sleep-addled mind as she locked eyes with me.

"Buddha, what's wrong with your eyes?"

The realization struck me—I had forgotten that my eyes had changed colors when I became a vampire. I quickly rambled out an excuse.

"Oh, those? Due to taking night classes and staying up late while looking at screens, I got these special contacts. They act like light filters and, uh, just happened to change my eyes from brown to a lighter color when I wear them. Pretty neat, right?"

My mom's eyes softened, and she nodded before telling me she had to get ready for work and I needed sleep. Before I could even take a step, my phone buzzed. I looked down and saw that Jade had texted me.

I glanced at my phone, and Jade's message illuminated the screen. Her concern mirrored the text, but it took a positive turn.

Jade: Congratulations, we have to celebrate! You said night classes, are they on the weekend too?

A mixture of relief and excitement washed over me. I quickly typed a response, appreciating her concern.

Me: Thanks, J! Yeah, even on the weekends, but I can make time. Where do you want to meet up?

The wave of anxiety lingered as I typed another message. Jade and I had recently started dating—she was 20, and I was 19. Lying wasn't an option, but avoiding her would be worse. Considering daylight savings, I thought a dinner date would be a reasonable compromise.

Me: How about a dinner date? I know a great spot that's open late. What do you think?

I hit send, hoping my suggestion would strike the right chord and ease any concerns she might have.