Thank you.
You asked me, on the last occasion we were together, if there was anything wrong with me, if I was ill, if I had come here for my health. I should have explained it to you then, but I could not. You were not ready for the truth, but perhaps now... well, I must take that chance. I can keep my secret from you no longer. I hope you will forgive me for forcing this confidence upon you.
Have you not wondered why I only ever agreed to meet you at night? Did you not think that strange? That I should sit with you in this pub, and never drink with you? Let me ask you something: when was the last time you saw me do anything normal? When did you ever see me walking round the shops, buying food, having a coffee at the diner, going for a walk along the beach? In short, when did you ever see me during the day?
No, I thought not. You could not see me during the day, for I never step outside then.
No, it's not quite that. If it was an allergic reaction to bright sunshine, why would I leave England to come here, where it is so much hotter, where the sun shines brighter, and longer, and where the twilight lasts so long, and the dawn is so slow to flood the sky with light? Is not this a stupid place for one who cannot stand the sunlight?
I came here because England is no longer safe for me. It has not been safe for a long time, but I was afraid to leave. It has been my home for so many years. Leaving it seemed... I don't know, terrifying, with an intensity at which you could only guess. If you only knew how many years...
May I ask you...? How old do you think I am?
Yes, I do look about twenty, but appearances can often be deceptive.
What year was I born? If I tell you, will you believe me? No, I can't ask that of you. It is too much to expect you will understand straightaway, but in time, I hope... I was born in '73... 1773!
I'm sorry, I could not resist the drama of telling it like that. Forgive me. No, I swear to you it is true. I would never lie about a thing like that. I have so much mortal qualms about my age.
Mortal? Why should I not use such a word? It describes so aptly what you are, and what I am not. I have lived for two hundred years. That scarcely makes me mortal, does it?
I'm sorry. It is a shocking revelation. I guess you thought there was mystery in me, madness perhaps, but this... You do believe me, don't you? I know it is difficult, but please try to understand. It has been so hard, getting closer to you, not being able to help myself, and yet knowing that one day I would have to tell you this. Secrets like this cannot be held inside forever, though I confess I have never admitted what I am to a mortal before, not without knowing they would die by me, that they would never expose me.
It is not easy, being what I am. Do you have any concept of immortality? Does it really mean anything to you? Of course it doesn't. How could it? One only truly understands a concept as monstrous as that when one receives it.
Vampire? Yes. That's about it.
Nosferatu? Good God, no! I rather think I'm a cut above them. Have you ever met a Nosferatu? No, of course you haven't. Hideous, ghastly little beasts, living in caves, holes in the ground, hunting through the back streets like urchins. I rather think not!
No, I'm not descended from Dracula either! Dracula was fictional. I am real. Of course, he was based on one of us. Bound to have been. I have little doubt that Stoker had met one of us. One of my kind. Not a Nosferatu. Do you think he could have written such a novel if his only contact had been with them?
I'm sorry. I do not mean to mock your ignorance. It is just so typical. I had hoped you wouldn't be so predictable, but I guess it is the way you were brought up. Horror movies, I suppose? Thought as much. I daresay you know about the sunlight, the fire, the stake through the heart... no, formica doesn't work! I've seen that one too; one of the better ones.
The Devil? Oh please! I have never believed in God. I grew up in volatile times. It was impossible to believe in a just God, as it is now, I think. And to believe in the Devil – I presume you mean Satan – one has to believe in God. I don't. I believe in Evil, in Darkness, but I have never been its slave. I was created by a wise one, who lived in the Light, who lived among mortals.
Oh, yes we can. I have. I let you get close, did I not? You have seen me, touched my skin. Touch it now... Yes, it is cold. I haven't fed tonight. I always did before, because I did not want you to know what I was. But you have a right to know. Maybe I just feel guilty for deceiving you for so long. Did you truly never guess? Did you never look at my face and think it was wrong somehow?
Look at me now. Do you see my eyes, how they shine so brightly, how many brilliant colours there are? No, look deep into them. I can't hypnotise you. Can you see it? The depth that isn't human? The sense of years? And look, look at my tears... Yes, it's blood. I weep blood, sweat blood. I'm nothing but blood really.
No please, don't go. You are not in any danger, not from me. I would never hurt you. I have let myself get close to you, which is always a mistake, but I cannot go back on it. There is some threat, perhaps, because I haven't fed yet tonight, but I needed you to see me like this – pale, weak and inhuman. I thought it would be easier for you to appreciate what I am saying, if you saw me how I really am, not the illusion I've always shown to you in the past.
I could not have told you, not when we first met. I was afraid. Too often in the past I have seen the fear, the disgust. Often there is no moment of revelation, just a sense of something wrong, and then they cannot take it any more. Madness is a relief in some ways, a buffer to protect the vulnerable from the dreadful truth of what I am.
Lonely? If you could understand immortality as I do, you would not need to ask a question like that. There are always times when it is worse – as there are for humans. In many ways I am still a human. I still have feelings, emotions which sweep me along. I try not to get emotionally involved with my victims. It's easier not to. But sometimes...
Yes, I mean you... not that I intend you to be a victim. I realise this confession of mine puts a great strain on our friendship, but how could I not tell you? Sooner or later you would have figured it out for yourself, and I would rather be honest with you. Human feelings, you see!
I guess you need to be alone now, to think about this. I must ask a few further things of you: promises that you won't expose me to danger. I have risked a lot by telling you this, but I couldn't let it rest any other way. You know where I dwell, and you know what would destroy me. I must ask that you keep that lair secret. If any other human knows, I am lost. Of course, you might destroy me yourself, if you chose to, but I shall just have to trust you on that one! Secrecy is all for me, I'm afraid.
Also, I must ask you to keep my secret to yourself. Nobody else must know what I am. God knows, it is easier to keep a low profile in a big city like this than it ever was at home, but there is still a danger of being discovered and hunted down.
Please, don't apologise! I know the way superstition works. Why do you imagine I had to leave England? Even in a stupidly rational country like that there were still dangers, people who were prepared to believe what they saw in my eyes. I'm not saying folk are like that here, but you never know. Your country was the centre of witch-hunts in earlier days too, you may recall.
Thank you. I realise I should have said something of this sooner, but I found it impossible. You were so friendly, so trusting, so comforting. It has been so long since I felt human contact like that. It made me very unsure of myself. And my emotions... No it is not always easier to stand back. I am still young in the Dark Ways. There are many doors still locked against me.
No, I must go. As I said, I have not fed tonight. I must do so soon. I'm starving! Sometimes I try not to feed, try to starve myself, but I have no desire to suffer unnecessarily. Why should I? It's not as if I have a problem with what I am any more. I can accept it, so why should I fight it?
You want to what?! No, that is quite impossible! It is forbidden. No mortal may see a Child of Darkness drink... not if they want to live out the night. Only a victim may see the true horrors, a victim or an initiate...
No! I will not let you be either! Don't be foolish. You do not know what you ask of me. If you did, you would never ask it, believe me. I have created others in the past, and they all turned against me after the transformation. I have vowed never to commit such a foolhardy act again. I have not the judgement to recognise a true inclination for the power. I wish I did, but I have chosen so badly in the past. I will not do it again, not for anyone, so please do not ask that of me. It is unthinkable!
I must go now, truly. If you want to see me again, if you can bear to after the things I have told you about myself, I shall be here at eleven tomorrow night. I will wait until an hour before dawn. If you cannot speak to me again, I will leave this town, and leave you alone forever. I can do no more than that.
Once again, forgive me for presuming upon you in this manner, but I could not rest until you knew. I have taken so many risks in confiding in you, but I trust you will not betray me. I have no choice but to trust in you.
Farewell then, my friend, my beautiful mortal love. Farewell.
[7th December 1993]
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