Blac Vampire: It's My Life

Sitting inside the Carleton University Library, staring at her image on the screen, he felt himself moved beyond words. All semester long he had been prowling the bars, clubs, chat rooms and shopping centers of the metropolis for the right gal. Black women, White women, Hispanic women, he'd been with them all. Hell, he'd even been with a guy or two. Sex held no fascination for him because he'd done it all. And in the end, he ended up alone. The media told him he had a lot to be thankful for. He was a good-looking, light-skinned and curly-haired young Black man from a middle-class ground pursuing higher education at one of North America's top schools. Going from an American College in Boston, Massachusetts, to a Canadian University in Ottawa, Ontario, had been quite a change. As usual, he faced all challenges with conviction and determination. Given all the things he'd had to overcome, he was a superman in the eyes of many. Yet loneliness plagued him every day.

He walked through the campus, just a young man in a sea of a thousand faces. He saw a dark-skinned young Black woman walking around holding hands with a slim, blonde-haired White guy. They seemed so happy. Contrarily to what some might say, he had nothing against them. To him, love was love. If they found happiness together, then he was happy for them. He kept walking, and nearly bumped into a slim Asian gal who looked adoringly at her parka-wearing East Indian boyfriend. One hundred meters away he ran into a tall, athletically built Black guy who leaned against the Dunton Tower Wall, locking lips with a lovely blonde-haired young White lady. Clearly love was in the air. He smiled, and kept walking. In spite of the December weather, he felt fine walking around in a bright red silk shirt, blue jeans and boots. No jacket necessary.

Inside the Food Court located within the University Center, he took out his student ID card and used it to purchase food. The ID read Stephen Wagner-Dorsainvil. His Haitian father and Irish-American mother gave him a hyphenated name, go figure. How they met was a story in itself, his parents. For his father, Jacques Dorsainvil was the last survivor of a decimated clan in the Caribbean. And his mother had barely survived a similar fate in the United States of America. Yet they met, fell in love, and had him. And now it was his turn to venture beyond the Family Plot to find his Mate. After two years at Boston University, he felt bored. Surely life had more to offer than Bean Town. He'd visited numerous American cities, from Atlanta to New York, from Princeton to Hartford, from Houston to Juno. He didn't find what he was looking for. His kind were extremely rare. A lot rarer than the movies and poorly written science fiction and horror novels would have you believe. He smiled to himself as he thought of all the things humans didn't know about his kind. Such as their ability to walk in sunlight unscathed.

While walking to the bus stop after finishing his lunch, he ran into a tall young Hispanic woman carrying a Twilight Saga novel. He excused himself for bumping into her, and silently joined the throngs of Carleton University students waiting for the number four bus to Hurdman station. It would take him close to the Saint Laurent Shopping Center, next to which he lived in a small apartment. He smiled to himself as he thought of the young lady with the Twilight Saga novel. He wondered what she would think if she knew who or what she just bumped into. A bona-fide Vampire. Of course, his species were nothing like what the humans thought they were. For starters, he was born a Vampire. His father and mother were both Vampires, albeit from different sides of the world. An immigrant from Haiti met an Irishwoman in Boston during the 1980s. in the eyes of the world, they were a Black man and a White woman from different cultures and faiths. His father was an Adventist and his mother was a lapsed Catholic. Yet what they had in common, the world would never suspect. They were both members of a species known as the Homo Sapiens Sanguinis. The Man of the Blood. The Drinker of Blood. The Vampire.

He sighed, watching the snow fall from the bus window. His peers at the University took so many things for granted. Ordinary phenomenon fascinated him the most. He could HEAR the snow falling. Each and every flake within a radius of half a mile. Such was the keenness of his hearing. His senses of sight and smell were even better. The sunlight did not bother his eyes for he was no more a creature of the night than the human themselves were. Also, while he saw slightly better than humans at night, his night vision was quite poor. His sense of smell was amazing. He could smell the Heineken which the bus driver, a portly blonde woman, downed the night before. He could also smell the cheap aftershave on the young Asian guy staring adoringly at the red-haired White gal in the green sweater. Oh, yeah. There were all kinds of things he could smell. Unfortunately, he also smelled things he wished he didn't. The gorgeous young Black woman in the blue and gold pullover sweater and short skirt did not shower today, though she doused herself in perfume. Ah, humans. They were such funny creatures.

Once the bus reached Hurdman Station, he took off on a run. In five minutes he made it to his apartment on Donald Street in the Vanier sector of Ottawa, directly across the mosque which sat next to the catholic church. He found those two buildings proximity to one another quite comforting. Perhaps one day humans would stop fighting each other over questions of race, gender, sexual orientation and religion. In his neighborhood, Christians and Muslims of all colours were friends and neighbours. He found that pleasing. Funny how a creature most decidedly inhuman was the most sensitive and caring soul on the block. While walking home, he saluted dear old Doris, the elderly White lady whose driveway he helped clear that morning. Doris was a nice person, and she was the first to welcome the displaced Haitian-American student to Vanier. He wondered what she would say if she knew what he truly was. More than an international student at Carleton University. More than a biracial guy born to a Black father and White mother. He was actually more than human. He was a Vampire.

Once he reached home, he took a warm shower before buckling down in front of his computer to do some homework. He wasn't hungry. He'd already fed twice today. Gulping down six pints of blood. He bought them from a blood bank, one which asked no questions. The O-positive human blood was delicious. He warmed it up in his microwave before gulping it down. It tasted better warm. Only human blood properly fed his kind, that was one fact the humans actually got right. He restricted his feeding to blood banks just like his parents taught him. He was twenty three years old and had never taken a human life. He was quite proud of that fact. Those of his kind who violated the Sacred Rules were hunted by both Vampires and humans. He tried not to think about his friend Jose Vasquez, the Mexican-born Vampire he used to hang out with in Charlestown, Massachusetts. Jose broke the rules by feeding off a human who attacked him in a bar fight. Jose was hunted down and killed by the Authorities. Those humans and Vampires who disposed of law-breaking Vampires. There were a couple thousand Vampires living in Boston and most of them were law-abiding citizens. Jose had been the exception, in a secretive community where being exceptional was illegal. Poor Jose. His death drove his mother Maria mad, and the poor Vampire matriarch had to be put down too.

That night, he fell asleep in front of the computer. It took nearly a superhuman effort to drag his tired ass back to bed. As he slept, he dreamed. How he longed for the City of Boston, his birthplace. Ottawa was whack, seriously. The Capital of Canada couldn't hold a candle to Bean Town, Massachusetts. As he dreamed, his mind roamed and he thought of Jose's older sister Anita. The tall, beautiful young Mexican-American woman whom he first ran into during Orientation Day at Boston University. Six feet tall, raven-haired, brown-eyed and bronze-skinned. A vision of perfection. And she was friendly, open and lovely. And a member of his species. Yet he couldn't make a move on her because she was his best friend's sister. Anita Vasquez, Princess of a Vampire Clan from Mexico. So out of his league it wasn't even funny.

Yet somehow, he caught Anita's eyes and they shared a connection. One they kept hidden from Jose. He couldn't be allowed to know about their secret romance, which lasted a few months before fizzling out. Anita wanted something he couldn't give. He was not yet ready to become someone's Mate. And she never truly forgave him for it. They remained friends over the years but had a falling out after her brother Jose's death. How he wished he could have saved Jose. How he wished he could have been the hero the night the Authorities shot him with tranquilizers and executed his best friend before his very eyes. How he wished he was half as strong as myths and legends made his kind out to be. The truth was that Vampires were barely stronger than ordinary humans. Also, they didn't live forever. A Vampire could live for centuries, maybe even a thousand years. In the end, death claimed them just like it claimed the humans. A Vampire's existence was filled with joy and sorrow, just like a human's. In his sleep, he cried for what might have been. For the Vampire is the most human of all monsters.