This happen long ago but I figured I'd share my story. I was an adolescents, in my teens; I wasn't your usual teenager, a god fearing teen that would often be helping the church, helping in food drives and spread the word of god. The lord used to be my sword and shield, my faith since then had waned. Perhaps one day my love for the lord will return but I have not found that day. I still keep the bible my father gave me though. I'm sorry, I'm getting side tracked. I was to bring my younger sister to the church, have her help out; maybe see the light as her faith in god wasn't there, an ashiest. That and my parents were both busy working and doing overtime.
I had been helping load the food storage with rice and other cheap foods we got in bulk. As I worked away I could smell something, my nose was lead to that room; his room but I paid no mind to it as I stopped what I was doing so I could listen to the pastor along with the other students to hear him preach, "his love is greater than anything you could ever imagine, you sacrifice and gave us his son. The painful choice you had to make but for the good of humanity. How could we ever return that love to him? To praise him, to worship him! To love him! For he sacrificed for us. You may look at your place in life, your suffering to realize things are turning for the worse but remember what he sacrificed for us for the life you could have. So do not let his love, his gift go to waste." My sister rolled her eyes.
The pastor had some fur on his outfit as if he had been handling animals like a wolf, his dry hair smelling like a wet dog and his skin pale as the goths at my school. After service I helped out more, moving chairs and tables. The pastor and I were friends, he would help me with my homework, talk to me, helped with charity events, we did so much for the community. was someone I never wanted gone; he was a friend. I have those memories run through my mind, asking myself, "have I ignored the signs? Did I miss something? What did I do wrong?" That dread flooded my body, just knowing I could've stopped this sooner.
That day, he had other plans as he sneered at my sister, earlier that day my sister had been combative with him. That seeing how his countless journeys to hell and back with trying to get her to turn on her belief. The two out of sight I was readying to leave, knowing I'd hear her scurry along sooner or later; I heard a scream then muffled. I rushed over, a quick shove open the door to see the pastor sink his teeth into her neck, the rust smell filling the hair with the other bodies. The dread filled me, before I could run he stared into my eyes having me fall into a deep sleep.
I had awoken to feel my heard swirling, my feet growing heavy. The tears fill my eyes; I did the first thing I could do, run to a police officer and explain what happened. However; this didn't really work and not for the reason I had thought at first until now, he brushed me off not even taking my claim serious only asking, "are you on drugs?" I went to my parents and sure enough the pastor had explained away what I thought as it was only a drug related issue. I protested until he pleaded with my parents to go through my phone, I remember while under his spell from looking into his eyes I had given him access to my phone, for whatever reason until the thought occurred to me that I was hypnotized.
The protest on my end grew stronger as soon as they got accessed to my phone it was filled with multiple drug references, weed, meth, a whole slew of things and searching online, "how to get my hands on meth?" As the such, the words fell from my mouth as the world started to spin around me with the pastor having a sorry look in his eyes. As time went on; my mother grieved, my father working extra hard to afford my therapy sessions with them having me enter rehab even with no drugs being in my system. My parents split, my father having custody of me; still caring for my health and well being. While my mother is a lot more distant, though I can't blame her. The therapy was good for me regardless even if it was all for not when it came to the drug issue; just me playing pretend in terms of, "being addicted" or lusting after substance abuse.
These events lead me to visiting the library, figuring out how to truly harm these vampires, the beast before me. Over the years however the fake info; info written and put in by vampires and meanwhile actual info learned through trail and error along with seeing how they actually act in public.
Side tangent; I do hate myself for reducing my charity work because of this but it's for a greater good. My mother tried reaching, I had declined her visit. The same with my father; as much as I love him, well I would rather not have my old man rummage through or look at my findings on vampires now would I? The blood sucking beast I've tied up, dragged up to my room and poked with my instruments until I could find the actual weak points. Yes the heart is, so is the head however. No running water won't keep them at bay. Over the years I kept training, kept spending time digging.
I found the lies about no reflection; to an extent, same with the garlic and iron. Some vampires are more likely to have an iron or garlic allergy and the no reflection? That's simply a myth, fake info is easier to spread about these monsters than real ones.
No the true way to tell if someone is a vampire or not; look at how detailed the reflection is. The more detailed the further they are from the mirror, oddly detailed then that's likely to be a vampire. Harder to spot I know but honestly, did you think it'd be easy to spot them out in public? Anyways after training for the past ten years. I ran across many vampires and other hunters to learn everything there is, naively thinking I was prepared.
I finally approach him, his appearance having aged a day, youthful and spry as ever, full of energy and vigor as he holds a funeral for a woman in her forties, every word of his slipping my ear as I see him passionately preaching the word of god and as he finishes up outside I approach him.
I plead, "Pastor Mathew; please may I have a word with you in private?" He happily nods and the two of us head into his office, now clean and beautiful; as if not a single drop of blood was there but the smell of cleaning chemicals fill the air. My demeanor shifts as I lock the door behind us and pull out my sawed off shotgun and put it in my hands. The rage filling my soul. The scowl burning into Pastor Mathew as I snarl, "I've waited ten years for this; now I will have my revenge." His feigned look of helplessness fades as he has a sad look to his face.
Pastor Mathew explains, "she didn't deserve to live."
I scoff to ask, "who decides that? You?"
Pastor Mathew defends himself, "I only did what I had to; a non-believer who hadn't taken our god serious, multiple attempts were made to bring her to the light and yet she foolishly left it."
I shout, "you took her away from me because of that! All the others you killed because they didn't believe?" He nods. I say to him, "you know I've met many vampires along my way; none of them were as evil as you."
Pastor Mathew corrects me, "not many of them were as just as me; many feed on rats, vermin and other critters. I feed on non-believers and those undeserving of god's love."
I yell, "what makes you think my sister wasn't deserving of god's love? Isn't that his judgement! You damned her to hell without being given a chance to see the light!"
Pastor Mathew calmly speaks, "When I became a monster and a brink of my hunger, god came to me and told me it was my divine right."
I snarl, "You're crazy! You know that!"
He slowly shaked his head to sigh, "you won't understand until you're older; I used to think the same way like you a hundred years ago. I assure you; your way of thinking is wrong."
I smile with glee, "I can put a stop to you being a monster right here, right now! If a vampire like you can walk these grounds then it's obvious you're not powerful enough to stop me. I've met others like you; although not pastors." He shrugs, ignoring my weapon as if it's a non-threat, something to not even mind. The first fire of my gun hits his chest, but he shrugs it off like it was nothing, my blood runs cold. The slug punched a hole for sure but his body regenerated.
He passionately speak as he punches me in the gut, "foolish boy! God's love is what let's me walk among you in here; my love for him is what let's me in! My belief, my desire; everything I stand for is genuine!" A kick to my gut as he speaks up, "my love for the lord is what makes me strong!" Tears flow from his face, "I beg, ask for forgiveness from the lord for my impulses, for my foolishness when I stray. Your sister dying was an accident; nothing more than feeding too much."
I shout, "you and your god can go to hell for all I care!" His passionate cries for the lord die as he goes from calm to enraged, slamming into me and biting my neck. I had more than enough strength left to pull out my silver stake from my inner coat pocket and stab him in the chest. The light fades from his eyes.
He says with a smile on his face, "I'm coming home father." Then turns to dust. After that I felt empty, nothing; I scurried off into the church halls to feel a dreading pain. A whirlwind of emotions, head spinning and the people around me, they're looking more than tasty. After that encounter I can eat normal food; however it doesn't fill my hunger, the smell of their blood fills my nose even with it being inside their body, my heightened senses still make my head spin with trying to get used to this.
My faith in god started to go from a fire to a fizzled spark, what I had said back there before was said in the heat in the moment but now that I'm one of them? I can only feel hatred, rage, anger if such a god does exist. The feeding on rats in the alley way, having to keep myself from killing random people to feed on, only to ask myself, "is this what he felt everyday? Every time he saw us?" The multiple attempts I've made on my own life, even with trying to stake my own heart only to find myself to pass out before I could finish the job, even with trying to get criminals to kill me; only to wake up in a pool of their blood and awaken to licking my hands like some kind of animal. Then the tears come down my face. The police when they saw this? Only smile and look away when they saw my kind.
The thought crossed my mind as I saw one of the officers from earlier with him sighing, "boy you really couldn't have let it go; could you? You really cost us a valuable asset but you've played ball so far." Every part of me wanted to kill him, to slaughter those officers to only now realize, they knew; they had always known. I will concede; ever since Pastor Mathew died the amount of criminals in the surrounding area did increase ten fold.
I went back to look for something, anything to fix this. I loathe the hunger. In his office, tearing a part walls, dressers, draws just anything to only find a blood cooler, cleaning supplies, the bible and a diary. That nothing in the writings had anything that'd help me. So I'm stuck as a vampire, being a monster.
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