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It was usually necessity that forced him to move on, to start anew. This time it was the irony that made the decision inevitable. He had thought before that he could handle it, that he could just laugh it off, but it got to him more than he had believed it would. The joke was as much on him as it was anybody else, something he hadn’t considered before.
He stood in the classroom, overlooking the group. He resisted the temptation to snarl at them all for the outrage he was feeling. He had known beforehand that he had to give this lecture. It had been on the syllabus when he had first read it. Back then it had seemed highly amusing to teach something like that to people. Now he thought for the first time about what sort of person took a University course like this anyway. “Common and Classical Mythology and Folklore”. Only in America, as they said. And so it transpired that a 300-year-old vampire, the last of his kind, lectured 35 teenagers about how vampires had never walked the earth. He stood there for an hour and disproved his own existence with a list of facts and theories that had kindly been put together over the last few millennia or so. As he spoke, the class nodded and muttered and did nothing to argue his evidence as always. His cases were always very well put together; he was, after all, very familiar with the subject material.
Once he was done, he sat down and waited for the last of the students to finish scribbling their notes before asking if anyone had any questions. Ask me a question you fetid miscreants, I dare you, he thought to himself. Ask me how a vampire would have killed someone. Let me bloody well show you first hand. Let me drain the vitae from your beautiful young healthy bodies. I’ll lock the door and teach each and every one of you what it means to die at the hands of a Vampire. Ask me. ASK ME!
There were no questions.
“Very well then class, that’ll be all for today” he said, making an effort to keep the blood thirsty craze from his voice “remember we’re having a pop quiz on mythological superstition in 18th century Europe on Wednesday. I want you all to know your ghouls from your ghosts, OK?” A few moans went around the class as they began to stand and gather their things. These were followed by a few choice chuckles at the ‘ghouls and ghosts’ reference, and then the students began to file out of the room.
He began shuffling a few papers on his desk. Not through any genuine need to do something with them, but so his hands were occupied, and he could keep his eyes fixed to his hands so as not to be tempted to stare at the kids as they left. But even making an effort not to concentrate on them was not enough. He could smell them, he could sense them, he could almost feel them. As such, he didn’t miss the fact that Jennifer Hardway had stopped in front of his desk and was staring at him, waiting for him to notice her. He ignored her for a few moments, and then the classroom belonged to the two of them.
He looked up at her and was pleased that his senses didn’t react to what he saw. Jen was a very bright student. Bright enough for him to wonder why someone with obvious talent would choose such a ridiculous subject to study. She was also a cheerleader, and as custom has it, she was very attractive. A pretty, unblemished face was surrounded by long, straight, blonde hair which reached well past her shoulders. Looking straight into her eyes, he could still make out the shape of her pert breasts in his peripheral vision, and his augmented senses told him everything else he needed to know. Her heart was beating faster than normal, and there were concentrations of body heat, well, in certain places. He didn’t have to be psychic to read what was going through her mind.
“What’s up, Jen?” he asked anyway, though he suspected he knew the answer.
“I don’t think I’m going to be ready for the pop quiz on Wednesday, Sir” she replied
“Why’s that?” Because you want to spend the next 48 hours sleeping with me you filthy tart. Don't you?
“There are some bits that I just can’t get to grips with.” Liar.
“Oh? Such as what?” My genitals, perchance?
“Well, some of the theories about certain myths don’t quite make sense to me.” Liar!
“That’s why you have tonight, all of tomorrow and Wednesday morning to make it make sense.”
“I think I’ll need some extra tuition Mr. Tarkin.” Tuition! Is that what you call it?
“You know I don’t do that, Jen.” With that, there was an almost visible drop in her mood. Her head hung slightly, but she quickly recovered, leaned against the desk and put her face practically inches away from his.
“Pleeeeease! I don’t want to fail this class.” From here, he could see right down her top. The sight made something in him awake with swift and instinctive vigour. He couldn't resist his nature, even after all these years.
“Look. As a one off, I can see you for a few hours, but I can’t do it tonight, so it’ll have to be tomorrow, and it’ll have to be enough. I don’t make a habit of favouritism among my students.”
“Thankyou, Sir!” she somehow voiced while producing a huge grin. She then practically bounced over to the door and went to open it.
“Jen.” He called after her
“Yes?”
“Here, tomorrow, 7pm. No later.”
“Yes, James” and then she was gone.
He ignored for now the informality of her addressing him on a first name basis, something he discouraged. She was in for a surprise tomorrow night, if she thought she was getting anything more than a few hours of revision assistance. He cared more about his students grades than he did about their sexual appetites. Hold that thought. He cared about his students grades? The irony was getting to his head. By damnation he didn’t care about them. What the hell was this place doing to him? Blast these cretinous fools, blast them to Hell! It was definitely time to move on.
He shrugged such thoughts from his mind, grabbed his briefcase and made his way out of the classroom. He didn’t have to give any more lectures today, and he was in no mood to socialise with the other lecturers, and so he decided to give the staff room a miss and headed straight for his car. It was a decent day outside, the sun was shining and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. He took walking in the daylight pretty much for granted these days. He’d been doing it for years. The pills kept him from burning to cinders for the most part, though he did still find himself with a decent all year tan, regardless of the weather in any given year. The daylight lifestyle was only one of the many changes he had had to undertake in order to adapt to his situation. There was no point living like he had in the old days, when his kind had numbered in the thousands. He had to adapt. He had to live, eat and sleep with the enemy. He had to appear, for all intents and purposes, to be one of them.
He tried not to think about his situation as he reached his car and unlocked the door. He tried not to think about the slaughter of his people by his own son as he got inside and strapped himself to his seat. He tried not to think about the irony of the last living vampire lecturing idiot kids about how vampires were little more than the stuff of romantic fiction and fantasies as he drove away. He tried and failed on all counts, and by the time he got to his apartment, he was seething with hatred for the countless millions of humans that surrounded him on all sides.
He would find a way, he thought. He would find some way to bring his people back. They would one-day stand in legion, and the humans would cower in fear of the darkness.
He stood in the classroom, overlooking the group. He resisted the temptation to snarl at them all for the outrage he was feeling. He had known beforehand that he had to give this lecture. It had been on the syllabus when he had first read it. Back then it had seemed highly amusing to teach something like that to people. Now he thought for the first time about what sort of person took a University course like this anyway. “Common and Classical Mythology and Folklore”. Only in America, as they said. And so it transpired that a 300-year-old vampire, the last of his kind, lectured 35 teenagers about how vampires had never walked the earth. He stood there for an hour and disproved his own existence with a list of facts and theories that had kindly been put together over the last few millennia or so. As he spoke, the class nodded and muttered and did nothing to argue his evidence as always. His cases were always very well put together; he was, after all, very familiar with the subject material.
Once he was done, he sat down and waited for the last of the students to finish scribbling their notes before asking if anyone had any questions. Ask me a question you fetid miscreants, I dare you, he thought to himself. Ask me how a vampire would have killed someone. Let me bloody well show you first hand. Let me drain the vitae from your beautiful young healthy bodies. I’ll lock the door and teach each and every one of you what it means to die at the hands of a Vampire. Ask me. ASK ME!
There were no questions.
“Very well then class, that’ll be all for today” he said, making an effort to keep the blood thirsty craze from his voice “remember we’re having a pop quiz on mythological superstition in 18th century Europe on Wednesday. I want you all to know your ghouls from your ghosts, OK?” A few moans went around the class as they began to stand and gather their things. These were followed by a few choice chuckles at the ‘ghouls and ghosts’ reference, and then the students began to file out of the room.
He began shuffling a few papers on his desk. Not through any genuine need to do something with them, but so his hands were occupied, and he could keep his eyes fixed to his hands so as not to be tempted to stare at the kids as they left. But even making an effort not to concentrate on them was not enough. He could smell them, he could sense them, he could almost feel them. As such, he didn’t miss the fact that Jennifer Hardway had stopped in front of his desk and was staring at him, waiting for him to notice her. He ignored her for a few moments, and then the classroom belonged to the two of them.
He looked up at her and was pleased that his senses didn’t react to what he saw. Jen was a very bright student. Bright enough for him to wonder why someone with obvious talent would choose such a ridiculous subject to study. She was also a cheerleader, and as custom has it, she was very attractive. A pretty, unblemished face was surrounded by long, straight, blonde hair which reached well past her shoulders. Looking straight into her eyes, he could still make out the shape of her pert breasts in his peripheral vision, and his augmented senses told him everything else he needed to know. Her heart was beating faster than normal, and there were concentrations of body heat, well, in certain places. He didn’t have to be psychic to read what was going through her mind.
“What’s up, Jen?” he asked anyway, though he suspected he knew the answer.
“I don’t think I’m going to be ready for the pop quiz on Wednesday, Sir” she replied
“Why’s that?” Because you want to spend the next 48 hours sleeping with me you filthy tart. Don't you?
“There are some bits that I just can’t get to grips with.” Liar.
“Oh? Such as what?” My genitals, perchance?
“Well, some of the theories about certain myths don’t quite make sense to me.” Liar!
“That’s why you have tonight, all of tomorrow and Wednesday morning to make it make sense.”
“I think I’ll need some extra tuition Mr. Tarkin.” Tuition! Is that what you call it?
“You know I don’t do that, Jen.” With that, there was an almost visible drop in her mood. Her head hung slightly, but she quickly recovered, leaned against the desk and put her face practically inches away from his.
“Pleeeeease! I don’t want to fail this class.” From here, he could see right down her top. The sight made something in him awake with swift and instinctive vigour. He couldn't resist his nature, even after all these years.
“Look. As a one off, I can see you for a few hours, but I can’t do it tonight, so it’ll have to be tomorrow, and it’ll have to be enough. I don’t make a habit of favouritism among my students.”
“Thankyou, Sir!” she somehow voiced while producing a huge grin. She then practically bounced over to the door and went to open it.
“Jen.” He called after her
“Yes?”
“Here, tomorrow, 7pm. No later.”
“Yes, James” and then she was gone.
He ignored for now the informality of her addressing him on a first name basis, something he discouraged. She was in for a surprise tomorrow night, if she thought she was getting anything more than a few hours of revision assistance. He cared more about his students grades than he did about their sexual appetites. Hold that thought. He cared about his students grades? The irony was getting to his head. By damnation he didn’t care about them. What the hell was this place doing to him? Blast these cretinous fools, blast them to Hell! It was definitely time to move on.
He shrugged such thoughts from his mind, grabbed his briefcase and made his way out of the classroom. He didn’t have to give any more lectures today, and he was in no mood to socialise with the other lecturers, and so he decided to give the staff room a miss and headed straight for his car. It was a decent day outside, the sun was shining and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. He took walking in the daylight pretty much for granted these days. He’d been doing it for years. The pills kept him from burning to cinders for the most part, though he did still find himself with a decent all year tan, regardless of the weather in any given year. The daylight lifestyle was only one of the many changes he had had to undertake in order to adapt to his situation. There was no point living like he had in the old days, when his kind had numbered in the thousands. He had to adapt. He had to live, eat and sleep with the enemy. He had to appear, for all intents and purposes, to be one of them.
He tried not to think about his situation as he reached his car and unlocked the door. He tried not to think about the slaughter of his people by his own son as he got inside and strapped himself to his seat. He tried not to think about the irony of the last living vampire lecturing idiot kids about how vampires were little more than the stuff of romantic fiction and fantasies as he drove away. He tried and failed on all counts, and by the time he got to his apartment, he was seething with hatred for the countless millions of humans that surrounded him on all sides.
He would find a way, he thought. He would find some way to bring his people back. They would one-day stand in legion, and the humans would cower in fear of the darkness.
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Nice. Vampires and cheerleaders - good combination.
"issues"?
I might post the first part of my story tomorrow....but I wouldn't bet on it. There are a few issues and parts that need tweaking.
Excellent, thank you. Look forward to part 2
Half Life is still coming along nicely.
Excellent stuff, IB. Yet again.
"Blast these cretinous fools, blast them to Hell! It was definitely time to move on."
A worthy sentence and one I will end up quoting all day!
Half-Life stuttering a bit is it? Or did you have to express this new idea floating in the recesses of your conscience?
"Blast these cretinous fools, blast them to Hell! It was definitely time to move on."
A worthy sentence and one I will end up quoting all day!
Half-Life stuttering a bit is it? Or did you have to express this new idea floating in the recesses of your conscience?
Blank wrote:
> Nice one. I haven't read your Half-Life stories, but I enjoyed this.
> It doesn't follow on from that, does it?
It's completely unrelated, though I did toy with the idea of tying it in somehow...
> Nice one. I haven't read your Half-Life stories, but I enjoyed this.
> It doesn't follow on from that, does it?
It's completely unrelated, though I did toy with the idea of tying it in somehow...
Blank wrote:
>I haven't read your Half-Life stories,
*ducks for cover*
>I haven't read your Half-Life stories,
*ducks for cover*
Very good!
I haven't read Half Life, but I will certainly keep up to date with this one.
I haven't read Half Life, but I will certainly keep up to date with this one.
Well when I started to read it there were no replies.....
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