Fine Dining

A man, middle-aged in appearance but as old as the pyramids of Ancient Egypt, sat before a burning fireplace as the sweet smell of pine wafted in the air. The dark leather comforter he rested in was old and his favorite. The black cup of Nigerian roasted bean coffee he coddled gave off another aroma that tickled his nostrils. He sipped, savoring the delightful taste that rolled over his tongue, and pondered on things most humans would find horrid. Let's take a peek into the mind and dark heart of an immortal:

Most of my brethren and sistern have such shallow palates today, unlike in the old times when we lived to refine our tastes. Hunting was not only about eating for the sake of survival. True hunters display restraint and the mastery of selection.

When I pursue game it is done with the utmost care, patience and skill to ensure I obtain the flavor and texture I desire. I disdain an indiscriminate vampire. To live so long and still chose poorly speaks volumes of one's character.

Sinking my fangs into the throat of a human, I expect a spicy kick, yet look for the substance to be rich and smooth as it mixes with my own blood.

Drink slowly, controlled, and it will revitalize you to the core. Usually there is euphoria, and the new energy acts like a powerful aphrodisiac. However, not all blood is the same. Not all of it has that special "umph" which is why selection is critical. Feeding in the wrong way or on the wrong human can leave us soporific at best, and at worst can exasperate hunger to the point to where gorging takes place and no matter how much blood is consumed, we starve to death.

I hardly stray from devouring intellectuals, or those middle-aged and athletic. They must be bi-sexual, ambitious yet not overbearing. They're even tempered and calculative. The men gray but don't bald. The women haven't a single, silver streak, while their hair does thin.

Really sweet blood comes from those who wear glasses, but not because of a astigmatism or disease. Just slight degeneration due to aging. Blind victims have a butter taste, and clumpy texture.

Those I consume are full of vitality, and are likely to have reached one hundred if not for me or some other ill timed event.

I eat flesh, but not of the ones I prefer to drink from because strangely, their meat is gamy and tort. Predators tend to be the best on the tongue.

Like Father, Like Son

Imagine a world so evolved that murder did not exist, and not due to stringent laws or retribution but because the people out grew such behavior. They evolve beyond war and domination, greed, and other trivials. People were healthy and lived long lives. All was peaceful even as technology grew in wonder.

On this world the air was so clean that one could see as far in the distance as the eye had power. Fruit exploded with wonderful, pleasing flavors. Water was so pure that it was almost weightless.

I come from a world that was like this but something went terribly wrong and changed everything, everywhere forever. This was nearly twenty thousand years ago. I can remember even now that there were so many populated worlds. We devoured them all, after millions of years being civilized people our culture digressed and murdered first ourselves, then others.

Ah (sigh), we could not be stopped, our hunger could not be filled. We are the oldest people in the universe, and when we infested other worlds we came unobserved and destroyed whatever we contacted, leaving planets baron of human life and in total ruin. We could not help ourselves. It was all so new to us then. Maybe if we had a set of rules from the beginning, maybe if we had never tinkered with nature in such a way, but we did and today I bare the weight of what a single man of science did so long ago. I have to carry the responsibility, he was my brother. He was my closest friend.

I killed my closest friend with my bare hands, watching the light as it faded from his eyes. His brown eyes that looked just like mine.