A lot of fuss is made over one's ethnic ancestry, nationality and religion nowadays. I honestly don't know what's behind that trend. In the community that I live in, blood is essential but not the way you think. The name is Yousef Osman and I'm a young Black man living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario.
In mortal life, I was a proud member of the Somali community of Alberta, where I was born. One day, at the tender age of twenty five, I was forcibly transformed into what I am today. I've got no choice but to live life as what I've become. Any life is better than no life at all, I guess.
"End of the road for you buddy," I said to my prey, a twenty-something gay white male named Josh, whom I picked up at the Honest Lawyer bar in downtown Ottawa. All night we'd been drinking and making out, and now, I've got him alone and it's time to end this little dance. Josh blinked nervously, and didn't even fight or protest when I sank my fangs into his neck, and drank my fill.
A vampire's got to feed, it's a fact of life, we got no choice in the matter. I disposed of Joshua's body properly, making sure that he wouldn't come back. No one shall ever hear of him or see him again. By morning, there'll be nothing but ashes left of him.
"May the Creator have mercy on your soul," I whisper, as I stand in front of the old incinerator, and watch as the flames lick Joshua's body, and he is mercifully spared the fate which continues to plague me. I watch him burn, then walk away, lost in thought.
It's around four in the morning when I reach my place in Nepean. I live in a basement apartment on Prince of Wales, not far from the Carleton University campus. I walk in, feeling good after a successful hunt. My room is fairly big, and the windows are blissfully covered by thick curtains. I go straight to bed, feeling the drowsiness that the approach of the sun has on all of my kind, as far as I know.
As I lie on my bed, my thoughts turn to the old days, days when I could face the sun. I was born in the City of Edmonton, Alberta, in 1972. My parents, Amir and Khadija Osman are immigrants from Somaliland. I lived a normal life, going to the local Masjid on Fridays, playing with the guys and gals in my neighborhood, and cheering for the Calgary Flames.
In 1990, I began my freshman year at the University of Calgary, and enrolled in the business administration program. I wanted to become a businessman, since I've always had a head for numbers and I'm naturally shrewd. Life was pretty mundane, until one night, I went to this bar and met this tall, absolutely gorgeous, twenty-something Arab chick named Mariam Abdulwahab there.
Like a lot of Somali guys, I find Arab women simply irresistible and I was drawn to Mariam like a moth to the proverbial flame. Tall and curvy, with light bronze skin, long black hair and golden brown eyes, Mariam was very beautiful. We talked and flirted, and I learned that she was a newcomer to Calgary by way of Yemen.
If you know anything about Somalis, you'll know that lots of us live in Yemen and that they're our closest neighbors. Lots of Yemenis have married Somalis and vice versa. Our cultures, while different, share many similarities. I was a bit surprised to see a cute Yemeni gal like Mariam at a bar, to tell you the truth, and told her as much.
"Let's just say that I am full of surprises," Mariam said, smiling wickedly, and I nodded at that, admiring her fearless smile. Clad in a black leather jacket over a red tank top, blue jeans and black leather boots, Mariam was simply mesmerizing. And the lady appeared to be feeling me! We talked, drank and flirted all night, and then Mariam surprised me by inviting me back to her place. I thought it was my lucky night. Little did I know that from that moment on, my existence would be irrevocably changed.
"Let's have some fun together handsome," Mariam whispered into my ear, and that's all I needed to hear. Mariam and I walked out of that bar, and went back to her place. Once there, we had ourselves some fun. Understand that until that point, my sexual experiences with girls had been quite limited. I grew up in a strict Somali household, after all.
Like many Somali guys I knew, I experimented sexually with other guys, mostly the ones I would encounter at Somali community events and whatnot. I was attracted to both guys and girls, mind you, but it was easier to find guys to bang. Somali girls were out of our reach, thanks to fourteen centuries of Islamic tradition.
