Black Female Vampires Rock

Is it considered prejudice if you're against dating your own kind? My name is Cassandra Saint James and I'm a Vampire living in the City of Toronto, Ontario. I was born in the City of Cap-Haitien, on the Northern coast of the island of Haiti on January 29, 1812, and I became one of the Undead on February 7, 1834. As a citizen of the Haitian society of the old days, I was well aware of supernatural forces at work in the mundane world long before I was transformed into what I am today. The one who brought me into this dark world is none other than Jacques, a tall and dark-skinned man who was once a slave on the island of Hispaniola, as the Republic of Haiti was once called. When he became a Vampire, he slaughtered his former master and his family and later participated in the Haitian war of independence against the colonial forces.

I lived a pretty normal life back in those days before I became a Vampire. I went to school and intended to become a schoolteacher. I was betrothed to a fine brother named Jean-Marc at the time that I died. When I came back as one of the Undead, I stayed away from my family and friends. I feared what I might do to them in my present state. Besides, Haitians are a little more in tune with the supernatural than most other cultures, so my family and friends might recognize me as something unnatural just by looking at me. It was a risk which I was unwilling to take. I left the island of Haiti for France in 1879 and in 1920, I moved to the City of New Orleans, Louisiana. For some reason, New Orleans reminded me of my hometown of Cap-Haitien, on the other side of the world. My hometown would always be dear to my heart, long after it had stopped beating.

My journey in this world wasn't easy. As a woman, a person of color and a Vampire, I faced many dangers and much prejudice. I once got lynched by a mob of angry rednecks in the Louisiana bayou after I killed two Klansmen who had grievously wounded a Black male friend of mine. In those days, a colored person's life was worth less than a dog's in the eyes of white America and this was especially true in the southern United States. After I dispatched the two racist thugs to their eternal reward, their relatives and friends came after me. They tracked me down, found me and tortured me before hanging me from a tree. Lucky for me, none of these fuckers had ever dealt with a Vampire before. We can survive pretty much anything except being beheaded, burnt to ash or staked through the heart. A hanging only caused me temporary discomfort, but I played dead well enough. They didn't even bother with burying, instead they left me dangling from the rope fixed to the tree branch, as a warning to other colored folk. Shortly before dawn, they all left. I freed myself from the noose, and then I found a nice shaded spot to spend the daylight hours. The following night, I killed me some more rednecks.

I had gotten kind of fond of the taste of redneck blood, which seemed like Karmic justice to me since they just loved killing colored folk. I should have quit while I was ahead, though. The thing about white men is that when it comes to killing, they're second to none, except maybe the Arabs in the desert countries on the other side of the world. The rednecks of New Orleans were deathly afraid of the colored woman with fangs and blood-red eyes who could not die. I had been shot, stabbed, and even hung and still I came for them. Every night I killed at least one white man. Sometimes I killed their women. The whole time I was in Louisiana, I never fed on a single colored person. Why? Simply because I felt no animosity toward them, and also because unlike white folks, colored people are quite familiar with the supernatural. Had I started feeding on colored folk, they would have banded together and come after me, and at least one of them would have known what I was and how to dispose of me.

Colored folk were off-limits as prey because I was fond of them and also because they knew how to destroy me, and white folks were lunch on legs to me because of what they had done to me and my people. I was having a grand old time in the Bayou, and in time, I became somewhat of a legend. The thing about legends is that someone is always after them. That's how one becomes a legend, by taking down a previous legend. This World War One veteran named William Hunter came to Louisiana from his hometown of Boston, Massachusetts. William Hunter was a man of learning, and in his time, he had seen many horrors. He knew of the existence of Vampires like myself and other creatures which mainstream society claimed didn't exist. Hunter organized a party of men to hunt me down.

How did William Hunter differ from other white men who had come after me? Hunter and his merry band of would-be vampire slayers enlisted the aid of Reverend Luther Brown, the Pastor of the First Baptist Church of New Orleans, a prominent church attended by local colored folk. Hunter knew about colored folks extensive knowledge of the supernatural and wanted to use that knowledge to hunt me down and kill me. While the local rednecks might have balked at the thought of a colored preacher joining them on a hunting party, Hunter ordered his men to treat the colored preacher with respect. This man and his followers would prove to be formidable adversaries for me and my kind in times to come.

I needed allies, and I recruited them among the locals. One night, in a small family-owned restaurant in the colored section of town, I encountered a tall, broad-shouldered and muscular Black man named Ebenezer Seamus. His friends called him Big Ben on account of the fact that at nineteen years old, he measured six-foot-six and weighed 250 pounds. The brother was BIG. I seduced him and bedded him. While he slept, I bit him and turned him into one of us. The glorious Undead. Drinkers of blood. Eternally young and strong, and averse to sunlight until the Day of Judgement. Big Ben became an amazing Vampire. In mortal life, he'd been quite strong and as a Vampire, he became formidable. Together, we cut a bloody swath through New Orleans and beyond. We ran into a mulatto woman named Isabel Clarington and turned her into one of us. Isabel in turn tracked down her former fiancé, a handsome brother named Arthur Lincoln, and he joined our little family. Our unholy quartet was nigh-invincible. We fed on people across Louisiana, slaughtering anyone who got in our way.

William Hunter, his henchman the good Reverend Luther Brown and their allies tracked us down across the southern United States and beyond. Along the way, we created lots more of our kind but many of them were cut down by Hunter's slayers. One day, I confronted Hunter himself, alone, in the graveyard of a church where his wife, Jennifer Barry, was buried. The previous night, Hunter had grievously wounded my lover Big Ben, who barely survived, and I wanted to exact revenge on he who had wounded the man I loved. I stood ten feet from Hunter. He was really something. Six feet tall, blond-haired, green-eyed and lean but still weighing over 200 pounds. By contrast I was only five-foot-eight and 120 pounds. I'm small, with a curvy body, dark brown skin and hair which I braided long before it became a popular style. Men often underestimate me. Not this man. In one hand Hunter held a stake and in the other he held a crucifix given to him by his friend the good reverend. He was ready for battle.

I leapt at Hunter, and we struggled for several moments. Even though I was only 5'8 by 120 pounds, being a Vampire granted me superhuman strength and speed. I could lift 2200 pounds clear above my head if I pushed myself. As Hunter and I dueled, it soon became obvious to me that brute strength wouldn't cut it. Hunter was a formidable adversary. He thrust his stake through my chest, but missed my heart. As I lay on the ground, he stood over me, gloating. Always a mistake, as he would soon learn. With a swift move, I kicked his legs out from under him. I pounced on Hunter as soon as he fell. I had my fangs at his throat. I could have killed him. I wanted him to suffer first. So I ripped out of one his eyeballs, and threw it away. As he howled in agony, I sank my teeth into his throat. I didn't kill him, though. I turned him into one of us. How's that for punishment?

I left William Hunter in the church cemetery. Truth be told, I never knew what became of him. Maybe he got away and he's still out there, one of us blood drinkers, but still hating us because of his past as a slayer of Vampires. Or maybe he killed himself, if his cadre of vampire slayers didn't do it for him. I don't know his final fate and I honestly don't care. If William Hunter ever comes calling I'll kill him. I did it once and I can do it again. Anyhow, that was then and this is now. I am really enjoying myself in the twenty-first century. I crafted a new life for myself. My old band is still around, though we're no longer together. I'm a Law student at Ryerson University these days, taking civil engineering courses at night. I have a job as a security guard in the closed camera room inside the darkened basement of a bank during the day. I rarely hunt, I prefer to buy from blood banks instead. Blood is blood and it nourishes me, which is what I need. I have a job, a decent apartment, and I'm back in school. Life is good.

As for Ebenezer "Big Ben" Seamus, he's still around, though we're no longer together. I loved him once, enough to go up against William Hunter solo after he burned my Ben with a torch after capturing him. Now, like all vampires, Ben eventually regenerated any lost or damaged parts of his body. Still, while he completely recovered physically ( even his scars vanished ) he wasn't the same mentality. Getting captured and tortured by William Hunter changed Ben, and it also put a strain on our relationship. I think a part of me will always love him but we're not a couple anymore. These days, I'm dating a tall, good-looking African-American brother named Stanley Endicott. He's originally from the City of Atlanta, Georgia, and studies at the University of Toronto. He's got that southern drawl I miss so much and he's really good to me. If he keeps treating me this good, I just might make him one of us. What do you think?