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The Alaskan Vampire

Inspired by the following prompt: [WP] You’re the only vampire in Barrow, Alaska. Eighty-two days of straight sunlight starts tomorrow.

Part 1

As vampires, we are creatures of the shadow. The moralities of the common man do not apply to us, as we are exempt from such trivialities of mortal right and wrong.

But that doesn’t mean we are savages. among out own kind, we do have laws. The number one law, the law that shall never be broken, is to never kill another vampire.

There are loopholes, however.

And technically shipping your nephew in a crate to Barrow Alaska, where technically the sun will kill him instead of your hand, all because he technically agreed to let you pay for college and you chose the two year community college there called Ilisagvik does not, in fact, count as murder.

But to me, heir to the vampire throne, it may as well be the same. Because inside that crate, currently on a cargo flight heading due north to where the moon don’t shine, I was destined to die from ultraviolet exposure. All while Uncle Gleb, the two faced, sheep blood sucking, traitorous, son of a bat bitch prepares to steal the throne.

It’s been common knowledge that my father’s power has been dwindling for years. That he has been approaching an Eternal Rest, that the crown shall transfer to me, his only son, to rule for the next millennium. And what a millennium it would have been- vampires are somewhat behind on technology, and I was ready to renovate the kingdom! It was time to start GPS tracking human herds for easier hunting, using cell phones instead of messenger bats, and institute some much needed dentistry.

I felt the plane land at two in the morning, flinching as I brushed against a silver nail that had been used to nail the crate together, the plywood itself made from thousands of crushed crucifixes. Already my elbows had been bunrned from brushing against the interior of the box, where the newspapers my uncle had so courteously provided had failed to insulate me from the material.

But even as I entered this cursed land of sunshine and cold and misery, even as I was loaded onto a truck and driven far into the countryside, I felt my father’s power trickling to my veins as I knew he breathed his last. And I knew that despite my distance, despite my uncle’s treachery, I was now king, leader of the vampires by birthright.

That both the throne and revenge were mine for the taking, provided I survived the next eighty two days.


Part 2

As heir to the throne, my father tutored me heavily in vampire law. Like most other legal documents in existence, the rules book consisted of thousands upon thousands of pages, addendums stacked on top of appendixes over procedural documentation. Most of these laws are not legislative- rather, most are laws of nature, pertaining to what exactly we, as vampires, are. And not just us vampires, but the majority of all mystical creatures hiding just beyond the sight of mortal men.

After reading the damn rule book thrice, I think it could have been stated in a single short chapter if the lawyers, who are particularly known for their blood sucking, had never become involved in the writing.

It goes like this.

We, vampires, are otherworldly. Simply put, we don’t belong in the world of humans. But millennia ago, whether through happenstance or on purpose, a few of us accidentally crossed over the barrier to the human world and liked it enough to stay. Considering the otherworld is what humans refer to as Hell, I’m not surprised with that decision.

It’s why we are not mortal-sure, we can still die, but not in the same sense as humans. And it’s why we share characteristics with the animal known as the bat. For upon entry to this world, we had to choose a physical form, though no body that already existed could truly accommodate us. We chose humans first because they were the greatest of the animals, then chose a secondary form to contain the bits and pieces of us that spilled out of their mortal body container.

Some choose the wolf as the secondary form, known as werewolves. Others, chose horses, and are the centaurs. Then there are the minotaurs, who drink more and think less than any other combination, the sphynx, who was so pretentious the rest of us turned her to stone to shut her up, and a slew of other combinations that frankly I’d rather pretend are not my distant cousins and were rather adopted from that island of misfit toys known as Purgatory. For us to hold these physical forms, which are not natural to our spirit, constant maintenance is required. For many it is the drinking of human blood, which restores their human element, and keeps it intact- but each species has their own form of kinky self preservation, such as telling riddles or stealing the love of men.

Anyways, with each form comes the strengths and weaknesses. It’s all symbolistic jargon, made legitimate through the bonding of man and animal. Werewolves are weak to silver, which in my honest opinion should be iron, due to the wolf falling prey to manmade weapons. A centaur’s weakness is women, for the women who tamed the first horse and rode it bareback, though in a twist of logic I find hard to follow the centaur now prefers to ride the women bareback. And vampires are weak to sunlight, just as the bat hides during the day.

Which was important, because as the tip of a crowbar was jammed under the lid of the box that held me, I knew two things.

One, that the sunlight would surely kill me if I was exposed too long, tearing my essence apart until I dissolved back into the otherworld, my inner self shredded like the aftermath of running tin foil through a blender.

And two, that in order to hold my form in the sunlight, I was going to need a Hell of a lot of blood. A literal blood bath, with jacuzzi jets and a bloody Mary minus the tomato juice.

As the lid of the box was pried away, and sunlight cracked through and caused my skin to start boiling, I knew just where to start.


Part 3

As I mentioned before, most vampires are not privy to technology. But I am. And damn, do I love that Netflix thing that the humans came up with.

Mainly, I find it interesting to watch their television shows. It’s like a documentary, or a zoo of sorts. I get a glimpse into how they think. It helps me relate to them. Which, of course, makes them easier to hunt.

For instance, there’s this Pavlov guy I saw in an episode of a historical show, next to the episodes of Ancient Aliens which are frighteningly accurate. For a human he was higher in intelligence than average, and I’m quite disappointed I missed out on tasting him, as I do love an intellectual. And he came up with this experiment that showed he could make dogs salivate just by ringing a bell.

For vampires, human screams are our bell.

“What the-” Said the first human, a greasy haired man with a stomach so large he could barely reach the box, as the lid came off. His words morphed to a scream as I pounced, my naked body springing out of the box as my fangs bit deep into his neck. Oily blood flooded into my mouth, his wide-eyed face turning white as I finished within three gulps. With college coming up, I had been practicing my chugging skills- it had been intended for alcohol, but worked just as well for draining humans of their life force.

My skin smoked as the energy from the fresh blood fought the sunlight, and I pounced on the second human, a stuttering female with a cigarette still hanging out of the corner her lip and a smart phone camera trained on me. Even if she had the time to press record, it would not have mattered- camera’s do not work on my kind.

Damn do I enjoy my meat smoked, and the nicotine buzz I absorbed added to my frenzied state. Within two seconds she had fallen to her knees, and within four she was face down as a permanent snow angel. Beside me, the acceptance letter from Iḷisaġvik college fluttered to the ground, having been included in the box as a final jab by my uncle, my name “Adam Noble” written across the front. Adam, because I was my father’s first (and only) child, Noble, because of my royal bloodline.

My victim’s memories rushed through me as I absorbed their blood, a lifetime of emotions that flickered through my mind in my high. I experienced joy, I knew their sadness, I felt their first love’s kiss. And within moments, the fragments of thoughts dissipated as theybecame me and my own consciousness regained control.

Whipping around, I examined my surroundings, my eyes squinting as I surveyed the white field that extended in all directions save for a small building whose address was stamped upon my crate. Typically, I’d be able to hide in a building to wait for the sun to set- but lasting eighty two days would be nearly impossible. And I cursed as I saw the numerous windows on the side of the building, designed to maximize the amount of natural light flooding the interior, rendering it useless for shelter.

Even in those few seconds that it took to survey the scene, much of the new energy from the blood had worn off, and I was reminded of my absolute hatred of snow. Because snow, like a mirror, reflects sunlight and had the ability to erode my existence from this earth at many times the typical rate.

I screamed as the ultraviolet rays baked me, the landscape the equivalent of a tanning bed from the Jersey Shore set to high, my essence already beginning to deteriorate. In desperation I spotted a tree line just at the edge of my vision, miles away across the terrain. Hesitating only an instant to strip the overweight man of his blood soaked clothes and slide them on, I turned to the forest and began to run. And to put that in perspective, I make Usain Bolt look like the third string sprinter on a underfunded middle school track team, who was awarded a trophy for participation only because the coach had an extra one.

I streaked across the plain, snow flying in a foggy wake behind me, knowing that even if I did manage to reach the shade of trees it would only buy me a few minutes extra time. With each step the pain intensified, my feet falling a little deeper into the snow, and my breath coming more ragged. Blood trickled out of the corner of my mouth, blood that was not mine but the regurgitated blood of my victims, my body unable to absorb it as functionalities started to shut down.

A mile from the trees I stumbled, recovering nearly instantly and reorienting myself. A half mile away, I stumbled again, my movements to regain balance this time sluggish. And a hundred yards away, I fell for the last time, my skin skidding across ice that ripped into my face like a cheese grater.

Sunlight ripped into my essence, tearing into my very being. I began to fray, the anchors that held me to my mortal body pulling loose and taking chunks of my spirit with them, my very nature distorting into a senseless mass. I screamed, rolling in the snow that I hated so much, holding onto the last strands of consciousness as a single idea presented itself to the forefront of my mind.

An idea that was only possible now that I, Adam Noble, was the king of the vampires.


Part 4

When the first vampire came to this earth, he bound with the bodies of the man and the bat. And as that first vampire multiplied, it’s powers trickled down into its children, and their children, and their children, though he kept the essence of his power to himself. Upon his departure into Eternal Rest, he transferred that power to his heir for the next millenium, who transferred it to his heir the millenium after, and so on and so forth until it eventually reached my father. Then it reached me.

Though, at only a mere few hours, I was about to become the shortest vampire king in all history. And the powers would flow back to my uncle, the next closest in line to the throne.

Except I had an idea.

The sunlight broke my spirit, ripping what was once whole in half, breaking apart the bonds that held me to man and bat and threatening to send me piecemeal back to my original world, that of Hell. And as I rolled in the snow in agony, I cast my power about me, rooting myself to this physical world by anything I could grasp.

And I bonded with the thing I hated most in that arctic tundra.


Cold more intense than I had ever felt washed over me as the snow whipped up in flurries, mounds of it rushing to cover my body. Thick sheets of it wrapped around my arms and legs, encapsulating them like a shell covers crab meat, while strands cris-crossed over my torso until they formed a thick white sweater. Inch by inch the snow swarmed over my body until no skin remained uncovered, its reflective surface bouncing away the sun’s rays, protecting me from the ultraviolet radiation.

For an hour I lay there in the snow. An hour where my spirit recovered, my essence mended itself, and strength returned as I became rooted again in the physical world. I would have stayed there longer, had my stomach not begun to growl, and I knew I needed to feed. That I craved the energy of mortals.

With slow, grudging movements I stood, defiant as the sun beat down overhead. And in sheer spite I looked up towards it, and did something I had never done before.

I roared.

The sound of my voice filled the plain, the very snow itself trembling as it traversed atop it. And towards the direction of the dead mortals I had left behind I heard screams, and turned to see a small pack of live humans in the distance. I squinted, identifying that they were armed with shotguns, and though my stomach rumbled I decided the risk was not worth it. Several camera flashes came from their direction as I thudded away, the added weight of the snow turning my sleek run into a lumber, and I let them take their pictures. As a vampire, I would show up as not more than a blur, if anything at all.

After three hours of walking through forest, my nose caught wind of the smell of fire, and my eyes saw a tell tale column of smoke in the distance. I knew that where there was fire, there would be mortals.

And there were.

The small cabin perched atop a hill, the winter scenery giving it the picturesque feature of utter tranquility. A quality that I intended to remove.

Technically, as a vampire, the rules state that I am not allowed to enter a residence unless invited. But that assumes that there is a residence to enter.

So I removed the residence.

With the added weight of snow I charged up the hill, my breath coming in short low grunts, my nostrils flaring as I aimed at the corner of the cabin where wooden support beams held the weight of the structure. My shoulder, now with the extra padding along with thick hair that had begun to sprout from my skin splintered into the wood, hitting with the force of a semi truck carrying a cargo of lead weights.

The cabin didn’t have time to groan. Instead, it shrieked as wood split in half, nails were ripped clean, and the roof collapsed inwards.

In the fresh rubble I identified three humans, all stunned. And I concluded that technically, the rubble was no longer a residence.

So I entered.

As a vampire, my key instinct has always been to suck blood. It’s what gives me my energy, my life force. But now I felt something different, a new instinct that drove my hands as they reached for the first quivering human.

“What- what are you?” He managed to say as my hands closed around his torso, each of my fingers as thick as his forearm.

“Adam Noble!” I roared, but the words caught in my throat, as if they had to travel through a blizzard to escape. And as such, they became garbled, the sound mangled to something only vaguely similar to my name.

“Abominable!” Screamed another man behind me as I ripped his companion in half, his crimson blood staining my hairy white knuckles on the way to my mouth, “Abominable!”

And while I feasted, the bones cracking between my teeth, the two other men ran from the cabin, down the hill, and to the nearest town. By the time the authorities arrived, I was gone, back to the forest, my energy replenished. I slept well that night, my snores sounding like miniature avalanches, and awoke early the next morning to steal the local paper from a nearby house.

Abominable Snowman, read the headline, followed by a picture so blurry it could be anything, Rewards offered to anyone with a clear picture of the beast or information.

I snorted, knowing they would never find a clear picture, turning the page to sports to check in on how one of my cousin’s, Lebron James, was performing. Godly, as usual. That shit’s not natural, and I don’t know how the mortals believe that it is.

As I continued to wait out the eighty two days, I found more ways to entertain myself. The humans were always tasty, but the town was small, and the supply was limited. Soon I’d move somewhere more populated. I carved a snowboard from whittling down a tree trunk with my claws, and after a few days of practice I’ve picked up some decent skills. I do a sick inverted rotation, and I shred the gnar.

Though I’ve been slow to admit it, I’ve come to realize that I’m no longer a vampire. The bat part of me is gone, destroyed through the exposure to the sun. Replaced by a bonding to snow.

Abominable Snowman. I could get used to that name. The new form came with it’s own weaknesses, of course- instead of sunlight, warmth was now the main threat to my existence. But in Barrow, Alaska, warmth was something I hardly had to worry about. And even stranger, I felt no need to return to my past as a vampire.

Especially because now, my revenge was simple and absolute.

All vampires derive their power from the vampire king. And though I was no vampire, I was still king. So now the powers the other vampires drew from me were not of bat, but rather of snow.

Each of my brethren would slowly begin a transformation, being driven farther and farther north each day in search of cold and fear of warmth. They’d change physically, becoming more and more like me. Already I could sense Gleb coming, zig zagging his way towards the more frigid climate to seal his own fate. Reluctant, but with no choice.

By the time he would arrive, Gleb would be neither vampire nor abominable snowman. Rather, he’d be something in between.

The most important vampire law is that I cannot murder those of my kind. And technically, Gleb would only be half my kind.

Which meant there was a loophole to exploit.


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