I might get kicked for this
But I don't really give a toss. XD
So yeah, I joined a writing competition this last Saturday, 15 November. The general topic was about "Utopia", the perfect world, and we were given 5 stimuli to incorporate into our works. We could do a short story, poems or song lyrics. The 5 stimulis were related to the 5 senses, and they were: a Republic Polytechnic teddy bear, the scent of lavender, sweet biscuits, a laughing track and a drawing of a box filled with blue dots and a yellow dot outside the box.
We had to incorporate the 5 stimulis as creatively as we could. I did the best I could, but like all fictions by me, it is imperfect since it has been unedited.
My short story is written in 1st person, a nameless vampire whose utopia is to be a human again. It is a twist since we usually see humans wanting to turn into vampires, but this vampire lusts to be human again.
I was the only person to write a fic of a horror genre in the competition (I downloaded the rest of the contestant's entries to read).
------
Here you go:
Unattainable Utopia
You can imagine what I am. You’ve heard it all before, seen it in movies, read about my type in thick paperback novels, and whispered furtively about it amongst yourselves. You weaved horror stories in a bid to scare yourselves silly during cold, peaceful nights. Mythical creature, you think, vampires, utter nonsense, fictional beasts that exist only in the dark depths of one’s twisted imagination.
This is what I am. A blood-sucking monster in the guise of a human being for all eternity, a portent of death who kills innocents every night to glut himself on their sweet, warm blood. Selfish for living - ah, I’ve heard it all before. It barely bothers me now. But I can read you perfectly well, my beautiful little mortal. You’re interested for more; you lust to embrace my words like your long lost lover. You wish to know me because I am different, and you’re tired of hearing other humans rant and drone on about themselves. I know of your intentions, but I welcome this. There are no secrets and boundaries between us in this point of time.
Imagine me lounging languidly on a sofa, a calm smirk tugging on my lips, and you are watching me as I speak. But you still don’t know how this perfect devil looks like! You wonder of the appearance of his physical body, how he enunciates each word…
I am tall for one born in the early centuries of when Singapore still wasn’t discovered by the British Empire. I am old beyond comprehension, and these old eyes have seen far too much history, but I loathe dwelling in the past - those are just mortal nonsense, you will hear nothing of the beautiful island’s colourful history in this text from one who had lived to see almost everything. Don’t think of me as arrogant for denying you of this. History is always there to be discovered through books, but the vampiric condition is something even more abstract and obscure - I’ll try my best to make you feel what I feel.
My skin is bronzed, my cheekbones high, my eyes a mix of dark grey and brown. Peculiar it is, but it does not matter so much right now. My body is lightly muscled and lean, eternally young. I will linger no longer on my appearance; describing myself bores me to no end.
You must know so well of the tales of pontianaks, female blood-sucking evil spirits who seduce men to them, only to kill to sate their lust for blood. We’re still monsters, but even between monsters there are distinctions to tell them apart. I am not a male ‘pontianak’, however hilarious that must sound. Bloodthirsty we are, the difference is that my kind possesses a physical body, and ‘pontianaks’ are simply spirits, intangible beings. Having this body still makes me feel human, somehow. It’s easy for me to blend in with mortals in a crowd; one hardly gives me a second glance unless the lustre of my eyes glinting under florescent lights catches their attention. If this happens, I’d just give them a little mental suggestion: Normal, everything you see here, nothing out of the ordinary. Turn away, my luscious piece of mortal flesh, don’t tempt the evil monster too much.
I can preen myself in the mirror, cut my hair in a fetching way; it always grows back to the usual length the next night. I can look at my reflection and alter my features to look even more devilishly handsome if I wanted to, and seduce mortals who fall under my spell. Not your conventional shadow-less Singaporean Dracula, then.
I can’t actually dissipate into smoke and enter tiny spaces like keyholes, like the ‘classic’ vampire can, but I can move very fast and create the illusion that I did go up into smoke. My strength - even I do not know the true extent of it. Since I am the only vampire roaming through the streets of this precious city, I haven’t had the chance to muster my true power and actually measure it against something, living night by night in solitude. I am all alone, watching the endless progression of mortals who are like wild bears trampling through the woods absently, and in a vicious cycle walking into my irrevocable, deadly, bear trap, the iron tearing into their luscious flesh. It is too easy for me to kill, but to give life? I couldn’t bring anyone over to the darkness.
There is the unavoidable twinge of regret in my chest each time I do this, but I have no choice. It is in my nature, the predator who looks like the rest of you, but who secretly lusts for blood, and the only moment you begin to realise this is only when his vicious fangs sink into your throat. Even this might be part of my allure. It is what divides me from the rest of you, I hold you all in fascination and you can’t see what is behind the mask of a killer.
And secretly, too, I despise this condition.
You see me and love my immortality, fascinated by it. You wait until you’ve lived on endlessly, watching the progression of the world go on and on until you don’t know what’s right or wrong. The feeling of being numb to everything hurts something deep inside, but you don’t know of it, never felt of it. You’re lucky to not have.
You fancy yourself wanting, being something like I am now, eternally beautiful, alive, deadly, amazingly strong. But what I wouldn’t give to be something that you are. To be human again, to be the one who doesn’t hide behind the deceptive mask of beauty until you see my vicious fangs, know they can tear harshly into your throat and end your life, drink up the very essence which is your throbbing luscious blood. The fragrant, tempting human scent of which hangs about you, unavoidable due to my preternatural senses.
I am eternally alone too, and you mortals despite whatever connotations you have - are never alone, can’t be. Other mortals won’t let you be! They constantly have a hold on you; you can’t do something for yourself alone without affecting other people. It seems too cruel to push them away.
I know how much fear you would be drowned by, if I by chance, put myself in front of you and reveal that my body is filled with dead blood, keeping my very being alive. Not pure. You feel fear if you know I’ve killed countless of your kind to survive. The true horror is that I look like a common human, and I am flesh and blood - but that is what I am; not human!
I cannot feel true joy anymore; my old heart has been tainted with too many deaths to feel the true happiness you mortals are able to feel, despite your short lives. It is the vampire’s utopia to be truly alive - my utopia! - and not live like a despicable creature of darkness. Basking the sun, eating, truly tasting, touching each other with warmth, unlike my constant coldness, all these things that you have, oh! - what I wouldn’t do to attain this perfection.
I am always the outsider, even if I blend in well with the rest of you, talk with you with my rich, cultured tones, it is all just for show - to get involved with other humans under the guise I am one of them. You would see me bring a champagne flute to my mouth, letting the cool liquid brush against my lips, but not drinking. A charming smile that I have, cleverly hiding my fangs, all just to seduce a mortal into my darkness. When I say something particularly true and honest, I can imagine you laughing in delight, the sound like tinkling bells - so innocent! But this damned condition simply forces a barrier down my throat, when all I want is simple - to be like the rest of you!
Envy clouds my old mind all the time, it brews in the pit of my very existence each time I see your laughing eyes, the curve of your lips upwards. At least you have a purpose to live, while this evil condition has been forced upon me. And I live forever…for what? For what?
You feel that there is a build-up in my prose, but what is it? A crescendo in a dramatic symphony. There is no climax. But you know, this is me recording down my last moments of this long, long agony that I have suffered, my last strained, painful thoughts… If only I could have this unattainable utopia that you have. You think a vampire can do everything to get what they want, but what I want is so unreachable. Being human is only a dream, having all the ‘mortal nonsense’ that I chided about.
And right now… I can feel the monumental rising of the warm sun, which can burn me to ashes so easily, as easily when I kill another human - should I submit to it? And what would happen? - one less predator in the world; more evildoers to exist freely without concern of the vampire’s kiss of death. Have I left enough mark upon my name, then? No one would notice even if a certain dark-haired, bronzed vampire were to disappear off the streets. End my suffering, let the sun take me. Leave no trace…
Just remember that there were other creatures, an inhuman creature especially who had took many a life in this peaceful little country. But let him be. It’s too late to convince him otherwise. Let him rest now.
----
Comment if you want! Love it? Hate it? Go ahead, I have really thick skin.
So yeah, I joined a writing competition this last Saturday, 15 November. The general topic was about "Utopia", the perfect world, and we were given 5 stimuli to incorporate into our works. We could do a short story, poems or song lyrics. The 5 stimulis were related to the 5 senses, and they were: a Republic Polytechnic teddy bear, the scent of lavender, sweet biscuits, a laughing track and a drawing of a box filled with blue dots and a yellow dot outside the box.
We had to incorporate the 5 stimulis as creatively as we could. I did the best I could, but like all fictions by me, it is imperfect since it has been unedited.
My short story is written in 1st person, a nameless vampire whose utopia is to be a human again. It is a twist since we usually see humans wanting to turn into vampires, but this vampire lusts to be human again.
I was the only person to write a fic of a horror genre in the competition (I downloaded the rest of the contestant's entries to read).
------
Here you go:
Unattainable Utopia
You can imagine what I am. You’ve heard it all before, seen it in movies, read about my type in thick paperback novels, and whispered furtively about it amongst yourselves. You weaved horror stories in a bid to scare yourselves silly during cold, peaceful nights. Mythical creature, you think, vampires, utter nonsense, fictional beasts that exist only in the dark depths of one’s twisted imagination.
This is what I am. A blood-sucking monster in the guise of a human being for all eternity, a portent of death who kills innocents every night to glut himself on their sweet, warm blood. Selfish for living - ah, I’ve heard it all before. It barely bothers me now. But I can read you perfectly well, my beautiful little mortal. You’re interested for more; you lust to embrace my words like your long lost lover. You wish to know me because I am different, and you’re tired of hearing other humans rant and drone on about themselves. I know of your intentions, but I welcome this. There are no secrets and boundaries between us in this point of time.
Imagine me lounging languidly on a sofa, a calm smirk tugging on my lips, and you are watching me as I speak. But you still don’t know how this perfect devil looks like! You wonder of the appearance of his physical body, how he enunciates each word…
I am tall for one born in the early centuries of when Singapore still wasn’t discovered by the British Empire. I am old beyond comprehension, and these old eyes have seen far too much history, but I loathe dwelling in the past - those are just mortal nonsense, you will hear nothing of the beautiful island’s colourful history in this text from one who had lived to see almost everything. Don’t think of me as arrogant for denying you of this. History is always there to be discovered through books, but the vampiric condition is something even more abstract and obscure - I’ll try my best to make you feel what I feel.
My skin is bronzed, my cheekbones high, my eyes a mix of dark grey and brown. Peculiar it is, but it does not matter so much right now. My body is lightly muscled and lean, eternally young. I will linger no longer on my appearance; describing myself bores me to no end.
You must know so well of the tales of pontianaks, female blood-sucking evil spirits who seduce men to them, only to kill to sate their lust for blood. We’re still monsters, but even between monsters there are distinctions to tell them apart. I am not a male ‘pontianak’, however hilarious that must sound. Bloodthirsty we are, the difference is that my kind possesses a physical body, and ‘pontianaks’ are simply spirits, intangible beings. Having this body still makes me feel human, somehow. It’s easy for me to blend in with mortals in a crowd; one hardly gives me a second glance unless the lustre of my eyes glinting under florescent lights catches their attention. If this happens, I’d just give them a little mental suggestion: Normal, everything you see here, nothing out of the ordinary. Turn away, my luscious piece of mortal flesh, don’t tempt the evil monster too much.
I can preen myself in the mirror, cut my hair in a fetching way; it always grows back to the usual length the next night. I can look at my reflection and alter my features to look even more devilishly handsome if I wanted to, and seduce mortals who fall under my spell. Not your conventional shadow-less Singaporean Dracula, then.
I can’t actually dissipate into smoke and enter tiny spaces like keyholes, like the ‘classic’ vampire can, but I can move very fast and create the illusion that I did go up into smoke. My strength - even I do not know the true extent of it. Since I am the only vampire roaming through the streets of this precious city, I haven’t had the chance to muster my true power and actually measure it against something, living night by night in solitude. I am all alone, watching the endless progression of mortals who are like wild bears trampling through the woods absently, and in a vicious cycle walking into my irrevocable, deadly, bear trap, the iron tearing into their luscious flesh. It is too easy for me to kill, but to give life? I couldn’t bring anyone over to the darkness.
There is the unavoidable twinge of regret in my chest each time I do this, but I have no choice. It is in my nature, the predator who looks like the rest of you, but who secretly lusts for blood, and the only moment you begin to realise this is only when his vicious fangs sink into your throat. Even this might be part of my allure. It is what divides me from the rest of you, I hold you all in fascination and you can’t see what is behind the mask of a killer.
And secretly, too, I despise this condition.
You see me and love my immortality, fascinated by it. You wait until you’ve lived on endlessly, watching the progression of the world go on and on until you don’t know what’s right or wrong. The feeling of being numb to everything hurts something deep inside, but you don’t know of it, never felt of it. You’re lucky to not have.
You fancy yourself wanting, being something like I am now, eternally beautiful, alive, deadly, amazingly strong. But what I wouldn’t give to be something that you are. To be human again, to be the one who doesn’t hide behind the deceptive mask of beauty until you see my vicious fangs, know they can tear harshly into your throat and end your life, drink up the very essence which is your throbbing luscious blood. The fragrant, tempting human scent of which hangs about you, unavoidable due to my preternatural senses.
I am eternally alone too, and you mortals despite whatever connotations you have - are never alone, can’t be. Other mortals won’t let you be! They constantly have a hold on you; you can’t do something for yourself alone without affecting other people. It seems too cruel to push them away.
I know how much fear you would be drowned by, if I by chance, put myself in front of you and reveal that my body is filled with dead blood, keeping my very being alive. Not pure. You feel fear if you know I’ve killed countless of your kind to survive. The true horror is that I look like a common human, and I am flesh and blood - but that is what I am; not human!
I cannot feel true joy anymore; my old heart has been tainted with too many deaths to feel the true happiness you mortals are able to feel, despite your short lives. It is the vampire’s utopia to be truly alive - my utopia! - and not live like a despicable creature of darkness. Basking the sun, eating, truly tasting, touching each other with warmth, unlike my constant coldness, all these things that you have, oh! - what I wouldn’t do to attain this perfection.
I am always the outsider, even if I blend in well with the rest of you, talk with you with my rich, cultured tones, it is all just for show - to get involved with other humans under the guise I am one of them. You would see me bring a champagne flute to my mouth, letting the cool liquid brush against my lips, but not drinking. A charming smile that I have, cleverly hiding my fangs, all just to seduce a mortal into my darkness. When I say something particularly true and honest, I can imagine you laughing in delight, the sound like tinkling bells - so innocent! But this damned condition simply forces a barrier down my throat, when all I want is simple - to be like the rest of you!
Envy clouds my old mind all the time, it brews in the pit of my very existence each time I see your laughing eyes, the curve of your lips upwards. At least you have a purpose to live, while this evil condition has been forced upon me. And I live forever…for what? For what?
You feel that there is a build-up in my prose, but what is it? A crescendo in a dramatic symphony. There is no climax. But you know, this is me recording down my last moments of this long, long agony that I have suffered, my last strained, painful thoughts… If only I could have this unattainable utopia that you have. You think a vampire can do everything to get what they want, but what I want is so unreachable. Being human is only a dream, having all the ‘mortal nonsense’ that I chided about.
And right now… I can feel the monumental rising of the warm sun, which can burn me to ashes so easily, as easily when I kill another human - should I submit to it? And what would happen? - one less predator in the world; more evildoers to exist freely without concern of the vampire’s kiss of death. Have I left enough mark upon my name, then? No one would notice even if a certain dark-haired, bronzed vampire were to disappear off the streets. End my suffering, let the sun take me. Leave no trace…
Just remember that there were other creatures, an inhuman creature especially who had took many a life in this peaceful little country. But let him be. It’s too late to convince him otherwise. Let him rest now.
----
Comment if you want! Love it? Hate it? Go ahead, I have really thick skin.