The Vampires of Cap-Haitien

"You are not my Stephen, you are a monster, a scourge upon this Earth and you will be destroyed," screamed my mother, Elsa Voltaire, as she brandished a kitchen knife which she pointed at me. I looked at her, confused, and saw nothing but hatred in her once-loving gaze. What prompted this rather unsavory welcome, you may ask? Oh, the fact that I'm now a Vampire, and apparently, this makes me unwelcome in the house in which I was born and raised.

"Maman, c'est moi, what are you doing?" I protested, while trying my best to dodge the blade brandished by the woman who brought me into the world. At this moment, she was trying very hard to take me out of it. Flinching, I finally wised up on the fact that I was unwelcome, and hightailed it out of there. I fled the suburb of Quartier Morin, northern Haiti, the lovely place which had been my home for so long. Vampires have no homes, we are wanderers, such is our fate as creatures of forever...

Now, I say this with all due respect, but my hard-working, fervently Catholic mother always believed in the supernatural, to the point that it made her seem 'off' to our neighbors in our hometown of Quartier Morin. I grew up hearing stories of my father, François Seraphim Voltaire, and how he supposedly left her for another woman and abandoned our little family. Folks say it drove her insane. I think seeing me come back from the dead finally drove her over the edge, and it saddens me to this day...

In the movies and poorly written horror novels, when one becomes a Vampire, it's a rather grandiose affair. The Vampire becomes a cooler and sexier version of the mortal which he or she had been, with better looks, and cool new powers. That's the appeal of the Vampire life in the world of fiction. In real life, or, rather, the Erebus of my new existence, I can assure you that it is definitely not the case. There's nothing glamorous or cool about becoming one of the Undead...

I, Stephen Voltaire, am a person with a story to share with you. On the evening in question, I woke up to find myself in my grave, and frantically dug my way out. I thought it had to be a mistake. I wasn't dead. Dead men definitely don't walk. I remember hanging out with my friends, Lucas Hubert and Jerome Etienne, at Grande Riviere Du Nord, and I also remember being pulled beneath the waves when my leg got caught on something.

What I did not know at the time was that it wasn't a branch or rock that caught my foot, but the maw of an ancient monster. A Vampire which had been buried in that river since the days of the Duvalier regime. A monster whom I was linked to, even before I became what I am now. Fate brought us together, as it were. That ancient beast caught my leg, and filled me with its poison...

Insensate, I was finally freed from the river and brought ashore by my friends, and to their unknowing gaze, I appeared dead from natural causes. Yet another young man who drowned as a result of wandering into the deep waters. I was laid to rest in the Cimetiere Du Quartier Morin, right beside the grave of my ancestor, former Haitian Army Colonel and supporter of Emperor Jean-Jacques Dessalines, the legendary Henry Voltaire. To the world, I was dead and buried, except I wasn't dead. I was Undead, and the world would have to reckon with that fact...

That night, as I fled my family's house, I wandered in the darkness, not knowing what I was. As I walked under the stars, and made my way to the City of Cap-Haitien, Capital of the Nord-Department of the Republic of Haiti, I silently lamented my fate. Roaming the darkness, I came upon a stray dog, and immediately, the poor animal sensed that I was different. It fled from me, and, filled with an urge that I did not know I had, I chased after it.

I was a rather athletic young man before my untimely demise, but I wasn't quick enough to catch a dog. Becoming Undead seemed to have added to my speed and overall athleticism considerably, and I managed to catch the animal. Driven by my urges, I sank my teeth into its neck, marveling as they lengthened and sharpened, allowing me to pierce the animal's throat, and slake my thirst. As the dog's warm blood flooded my mouth, I knew contentment of a new and uniquely different sort.

I discarded the slain dog's carcass by burying it, and saying a few words. I only hoped that the poor creature would remain in its grave rather than rising from it, ravenous and confused, like I had. As I said before, I was new to the Undead state, and had much to learn. I walked through the nighttime streets of Cap-Haitien, and made my way to College Notre Dame Du Perpetuel Secours, the venerable old Catholic school which I attended with my friends Jerome and Lucas.

Why did I venture there? Oh, simply because I was a creature of habit, and since I graduated from that school a mere two weeks ago, it was still a place of comfort in my mind. I went into the little greenhouse that the Scouts of Troop Henri-Christophe liked to gather in on Saturday afternoons, and made my way inside. In this makeshift refuge, away from mortal eyes, I slept away the daytime hours. When dusk came, I was out and about, and went about prowling. It simply seemed like the thing to do, you see...

That's how it began, you see. My journey as a nascent Vampire in my hometown of Cap-Haitien. Now, the smart thing would have been to move away to a place where nobody knew me. After all, I grew up in this town and went to school here, so lots of people knew me. They're bound to be alarmed if they see me out and about, considering many of them attended my funeral fairly recently. In the back of my mind, I knew these things. Yet, I refused to go away because, well, there's no place like home.

"Al, is that you?" came a voice, and I froze, for I recognized the voice as that of my good pal Jerome Etienne. I'd gone to Feut Vert Night Club, a nice spot near Café Du Port, right by the sea in Cap-Haitien. I was doing the bump and grind with a tall, curvy, dark-skinned beauty whose name I couldn't remember when my buddy hollered at me. What's a brother with fangs to do?

"Excuse me, dear," I said to the young lovely woman, and she shrugged in a disappointed manner, as I left her and went to deal with Jerome. My buddy Jerome looked just as I remembered him. Tall and chubby, with dark brown skin and slick, curly hair. When we were in Terminal Deux at College Notre Dame Du Perpetuel Secours, I used to get Jerome to do all my Calculus stuff for me because he's got a head for numbers. I was better at other things, like social sciences, and getting into trouble...

"Hey, Jerome, I've got good news, I'm not dead," I said, and I grabbed my astonished buddy by the shoulder, and ushered him away. At first Jerome was shocked, and then I put his mind at ease by means of a wild tale involving being buried alive, and a mortician's costly mistake. That seemed to placate him, believe it or not, and I managed to lure him to a secluded spot, to do what had to be done.

"What are you doing, Stephen?" Jerome asked, his eyes red and his stance wobbly, thanks to all the alcohol he'd been drinking, and I smiled and leaned close to him, before sinking my fangs into his neck. I left Jerome sitting on a chair, in the VIP area of Feux-Vert Night Club, making a mental note to fetch him before the end of the night. I returned to the dance floor, and found my dance partner in the arms of another. Go figure, I thought dismissively.

"Welcome to a whole new world," I said to Jerome, a few nights later, when he finally woke up. By then I'd moved from my old lair in College Notre Dame, and found better accommodations in a nice townhouse in Rue-Huit, close to the Marketplace. In a neighborhood full of businesses such as the Notary Public, and Serge Dry Cleaning, I would be close to everything I needed. I told my new landlady, Madame Vincent, that I was a student attending Universite Roi Henri Christophe, and she asked few questions.

"Stephen, what's happened to me?" Jerome asked as he sat up on the bed, and I smiled at my fledgling Vampire and then, I told him everything. All things considered, my good buddy Jerome was lucky to have someone like me around, not only to bring him into the world of the Undead but also to guide him. I'd already figured out a few finicky things about the Undead state of being, and was glad to have a new 'student' to mentor, so to speak...

"Jerome, my friend, you're a Vampire, like me, and trust me, it's going to be so cool," I assured my good buddy. Sure, we can only go out at night because the sun will fry us until we're frigging ashes, and we have to drink blood in order to survive, but so what? Jerome and I are young and strong, and becoming Undead means that we'll stay that way for the rest of eternity.

"Oh, man, why did you do that for? I never asked you to," Jerome protested, and I frowned. With the shades drawn over the windows of my new townhouse, rented with money that I pilfered from the pockets of rich folks that I've, ahem, encountered, Jerome and I were safe from the burning light of day. I looked at my pal, wondering where his sense of adventure went. I briefly considered tossing him out into the lethal daytime, but paused. Perhaps I can get Jerome to see reason...

"Jerome, come on. Think about it, we're going to be around when people start piloting starships and going to other galaxies. And we won't look like geezers when those technologies come about that. Sick, right?" I asked, and Jerome thought about it, stroking his goateed chin. Jerome smiled at me, flashing his bright, sharp fangs. We exchanged dap, and then I showed him what I brought him for lunch...

"Oh, Stephen, you shouldn't have," Jerome said, smiling as he looked at what lay on our table. Nothing but the best for my dearest friend, ladies and gentlemen. My dear friend gushed when he saw what I brought him. A beautiful, sturdy and athletic, well-dressed young woman with short black hair and mahogany skin. This beauty went by the name of Veronique Louis, and she was a newcomer to Cap-Haitien by way of Jacmel, on the southern part of the island.

Something about the lovely Veronique drew me to her, and it's kind of hard to explain. I knew that she was different from the get-go. I met her in the Marketplace one evening, and learned that she was an orphan, new in town and looking for work. I figured that she would make a great entry into our club. The terrified young woman looked at Jerome and I as if we were demons. She cursed us, thinking we were going to have our way with her. Veronique was oh-so wrong about that...

"Tasty, isn't she?" I said to Jerome, after taking a sip of Veronique's precious blood, and nudged the several weakened young woman before passing her to him. Jerome flashed me a fanged smile and drank from Veronique, then came to me. Drinking blood is an intensely arousing experience, and it makes one see the world in a whole new light. Burning with desire, Jerome and I kissed, and then began making love, as Veronique watched, weakened from blood loss...

"Dammit I want you," Jerome said as he took my face into his hands, and kissed me passionately. Hastily we undressed, and began doing our thing. I've always found both male and female bodies attractive, and becoming one of the Undead hadn't lessened my bisexual appetites. If anything, it sharpened them. Jerome caressed my body, and I tugged on his chest hairs, and gave his cute butt a firm slap.

"I can tell you want me," I hissed at Jerome, and he sank his fangs into my neck, drawing blood as I grabbed his long, hard dick and stroked it. Jerome drew me close, and stroked my hardening dick, and then pressed me against the wall. Turning me around, Jerome rubbed his hard dick against my ass cheeks and then pushed his way inside of me. I groaned sharply as his hard dick slid into my ass. I pumped my own dick as Jerome began fucking me...

"You've missed this dick, huh? That's why you turned me into a fucking Vampire," Jerome whispered into my ear, even as he gripped my hips and slammed his dick inside of me. I cried out in sheer pleasure as Jerome fucked me, and we went at it for hours. When all was said and done, Jerome and I collapsed on the floor, spent. We smiled at each other, happy as can be. By then, Veronique had passed away, and was well on her way to becoming one of us. The more the merrier, I say...

"I wonder how Veronique here will like becoming Undead," I said to Jerome, after the two of us emerged from the shower. We'd gotten dressed, and were awaiting nightfall to go out. Much to our amazement, Veronique came back to consciousness, arising from the death-like sleep that presages the transformation from ordinary mortal to nascent Vampire. The young woman stood there, eyes bright red, and she licked her lips, gazing at us in sheer confusion...

"Hello my dear," Jerome said as he approached Veronique, and I tensed, for I could sense something was amiss. My predictions were proven correct when Veronique lashed out at Jerome, and I watched the two of them struggle, roaring like a pair of animals. Jerome hurled Veronique through the window, and thankfully for her, it was dark enough that when she crashed through, she didn't instantly burst into flame. Veronique landed on the ground, over a hundred meters below...

"Oh dear," I said, as Jerome and I stood on the balcony, and looked at Veronique, who stood on the street, looking about in sheer confusion. Jerome and I watched as she looked upward, directly at us, and with our keen, inhuman eyes, we clearly saw the look of baleful hatred in those eyes of hers. Veronique then took off in a run, shrugging off the various mortal men and women who'd gathered after watching her fall from such a great height, and rise as if nothing had happened...

"This Veronique woman is going to be a problem, Stephen, we should have killed her," Jerome said, and I smiled and shrugged. Alright, in those heady early days of my Vampire existence, I was both inexperienced and plagued with a sense of invincibility. I hadn't met any other Vampires who weren't of my own making. I didn't know any of the rules of the Vampire community, if such a community indeed existed. I had amazing powers, and felt powerful and free.

I couldn't fathom that Veronique the Vampire was going to be a problem for me and mine for decades to come. After all, the world around me was full of turmoil. With the departure of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the island of Haiti was under the control of a career military man, the infamous General Raoul Cedras, there was enough social upheaval going on around me that my prowling might go unnoticed. Who's going to miss a few random people when military men are executing people on the streets?

In those halcyon days, Jerome and I lived like kings in the City of Cap-Haitien. We had money to spend, and partied like there was no tomorrow in the bars and clubs. Café Du Port became one of our favorite haunts, and we paid the members of the Forces Armees D'Haiti to look the other way when it comes to our debauchery. Life was good, until the bodies began to pile up, and the local Vampires got wind of our wasteful ways, and sought to put an end to us...

"Hello there, I am Jacques, Monsieur, I believe that we need to talk," said a dapper little gentleman, chocolate-hued, and clad in a dark gray suit, as he approached me one evening. I was coming out of Refuge Cine, one of the local movie theaters, and was accompanied by my date for the evening, a lovely young woman named Beatrice Toussaint. A newcomer to Cap-Haitien by way of Jeremie, in the Grand Anse area of Haiti, Beatrice was eager to explore life in the big city. The lady couldn't do better than myself for an escort, let me tell you...

"Who is that?" Beatrice asked, and she pointed at the little man who walked up to us, a confident smile on his handsome face. I looked at him and knew at once what he was. A Vampire. One of the Undead. My kind. I don't know why, but for some reason, I felt unnerved as he came closer still. I held Beatrice's hand reassuringly, and then addressed the stranger.

"Hello, Jacques, I am Stephen, nice suit," I replied, as though Jacques the Vampire and I were just random guys who knew each other from the gym or something. Jacques smiled and held out his hand, and after a brief hesitation, I shook it. Jacques hand felt cold and slimy in mine, but I nevertheless shook it. Before withdrawing his hand from mine, Jacques left me a card. Winking at me, he sniffed the air, like a man inhaling a fragrance at shop or something.

"You are new in town, and we elders want a word with you, have a pleasant evening," Jacques said, and then the dapper little Vampire walked away, practically sauntering down the street before disappearing from view altogether. Beatrice looked at me, an unasked question all over her lovely face, and I smiled at her and cupped her chin with my hand.

"I do business with all manner of people, my dear, nothing to worry about," I said to Beatrice, and just like that, I took her home. Jerome had moved out in recent months, having found a suitable dwelling in the plush Carre-Nage Quarter, close to the sea port of Cap-Haitien. We still met regularly, and Jerome had a key to my place, but yeah, we were leading different lives those days. Suits me just fine if you ask me. I value Jerome, but I do like having my privacy... "You are a man of mystery and charm, Monsieur Stephen," Beatrice said to me, as we canoodled in my living room, comfortable on an old leather sofa. Beatrice sat on my lap, looking pretty hot and tempting in a shiny red summer dress, her long dark hair cascading off her shoulders, her dark brown skin glistening by the light of an old oil lamp. The beauty of Haitian women is a wonder to behold, and Beatrice Toussaint is a fine exemplar of it...

"You flatter me, mademoiselle," I said to Beatrice, as I kissed her tenderly, and caressed her curvy body. My roaming hands found their way to Beatrice's thick round ass, which had been haunting my thoughts lately. I absolutely love a nice round derriere, and I don't care if it's attached to a woman or a man. Beatrice and I undressed, and then drank each other in...

"Hmm, nice," Beatrice whispered, as I kissed her lips and caressed her breasts, and then made my way down. The female body is a wonder, filled with so much beauty, and its capacity for pleasure has baffled many a man. Becoming one of the Undead has done nothing to lessen my craving for beautiful women, and I've been indulging myself lately. I sucked on Beatrice's breasts, flicking my tongue on the areolas, even as I slid my hand between her thick thighs...

"Just relax and enjoy, sweetie," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, and Beatrice sighed happily as I spread her thick thighs, and then buried my face in there. I inhaled the scent of her womanhood, a scent as unique as her fingerprints. Sliding my tongue inside those gentle folds, I began pleasuring Beatrice. Soon the young woman began moaning, and her voluptuous body trembled as I worked my magic on her...

"Oh don't stop," Beatrice moaned, as I flicked my tongue over her clitoris, and worked two fingers into her wet pussy. The lovely gal was like putty in my hands, and I had her right where I wanted her. Later, I happily showed Beatrice some new pathways to pleasure. Putting her on all fours, I admired her big round ass, and playfully slapped it, causing Beatrice to squeal in delight.

"I love a nice ass," I said to Beatrice, who turned around and winked at me. Stroking my dick, I pumped my hand up and down its hard length as Beatrice shook her big round ass at me. Filled with desire, I grabbed her ass and then thrust into her. Beatrice's passionate screams filled the townhouse, and I began to fuck her with wild abandon, loving the way her big ass bounced as I thrust into her. Beatrice squealed, and backed her big ass against me, driving my dick even deeper inside of her. I like a woman who gives as good as she gets in the bedroom, and Beatrice is that kind of woman. What I absolutely crave, when I seek out a woman, that is...