[Kuzco]: 212.King Joseph

Presenting King Joseph.  © Hugo Damas

The night was heavy and silent, the streets were smothered in mist but the full moon was clearly visible. The air was…uncomfortable; there wasn’t a specific reason; nothing logical that could torment people into hiding in their frail notions of safety provided by their home. Not a soul dared to venture on the streets. Why? It was just a feeling…just a feeling that every conscientious adult had in their guts, a feeling that told them their son or daughter were the next to disappear.
- All I see is you preaching me about how “unholy” the WEATHER is! All I want is to go two blocks over! – A young woman shouts at his parents.
- You can meet him another day, sweetheart. Just don’t leave today.
- No, I will leave. This is my life and I do with it what I want damn it! – She bursts out of the house.
- Darling… I’m scared for our daughter. – The mother pleads, concerned.
The husband and father sighs, he felt it too… he has been increasingly concerned.
- I’ll follow her. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s safe. – He takes his gun and quickly leaves the house after his daughter.
- Jane! – He calls out; he knows she couldn’t have reached the end of the street, to her boyfriend’s house this fast. But human hope can be so illogical sometimes.
He knocks at the door:
- Adam, is my daughter here?
- No, my son did say he was expecting her bu…
- No…- The dad reacts, loosing the strength in his legs and falling on his knees. – Jane…
- Ca…calm down. Maybe she got lost on this mist. I know I would.
- The hell she did. – The father cries out in tears. He gets up drawing his pistol. – This isn’t over…
A long way from there, in a house made of rock and concrete, with no windows or doors, an opening in the ceiling closes. A man carried the red headed adolescent; he softly and cautiously puts her in a bed. He then pushes his cloak out of the way and sits in a chair besides the bed thinking why on earth he felt the need to wait for his victims to know…maybe just an act of grace? He was going to kill her, the least he could do was show her how and why she was dying. He wondered why he just felt the need to find anyone, anyone who could understand…the need. About the need for human blood? He had stopped questioning that a long time ago; why did animal blood make him vomit whilst human blood was pleasant and quite necessary.
The woman moans and yawns clearly still delusional, somehow thinking she’s waking up in her bed, in her home.
Jane opens her eyes to see it’s not her home. She shivers feeling the cold of the night running down her spine. The room was gloomy and poorly decorated.
- Good evening miss Jane…
- AH! – She shouts, getting off the bed and moving backwards till she hits the wall. – Who are you?
- My name is Joseph. I am, for all accounts, a vampire. – Joseph informs, as a doctor informs a patient of his inevitable death.
- Wha…what? Na.na.na.na.no…that can’t be.
- I’m afraid it is. – He remorsefully smiles showing his teeth and Jane further notices his pale skin. She runs.
Joseph sighs and says out loud:
- There is no way out Miss Jane; there is no need for you to tire yourself.
She doesn’t answer. Just runs the entire house, three floors, looking for a window, a crack, a wooden part of the wall or something remotely like a way out. She then hides inside a closet in the second floor, third room. Human despair can sometimes defy all logic.
She hears steps on the corridor, she hears the door screech open, she sweats, she prays in her mind to god, she apologises for defying her parents, she wishes for someone to help, she knows the inevitable… She hears him getting near the closet, sniffing her out, then going back, sitting on the bed.
- Tell me Miss Jane. What would you do if you were hungry and I mean really famine, and the only food you could find was a dog who roamed alone in a prairie?
Jane had no choice but to answer, lengthen the moments she had to spare. She gets out of the closet smelling of hormonal fear and answers terrified:
- I…I would eat the grass.
- That is what the dog would tell you, if you made the same question while holding on to a knife and fork. Is it not?
She looks at the ground, sometimes logic is painful but she wasn’t thinking about that. She was thinking of how stupid she was. Kids disappearing all over the place and she just walks off into a bloody mist in the middle of the night. Her heart pains her, her stomach kicks her in the back…even her lungs are complaining as her legs and arms try to move, but she doesn’t have the spirit. She can hardly breathe, let alone move. 
- I have to. – He sadly warns her.
- NO! – She cries out, leaving the room in immaculate desperation. He couldn’t wait much longer, he had to go sleep in an hour and if he wasn’t fed till then, he would never wake up. He runs faster than his shadow and finds her in the kitchen, holding on to two knives, cuddled in a corner like a frightened dog. – Please! Please! Don’t do this, don’t kill me, PLEASE! I’ll do whatever you want me too, I’ll serve you, I’ll find criminals for you, I’ll have sex with you, just please…please don’t kill me. – She begs, with her eyes leaking non-stop. 
Joseph understands all this too well; he approaches her with a fatherly expression:
- There there…it’ll be okay, just calm yourself.
- NO! – She stabs him in the chest and tries to stab his neck but she was so filled with tears she misses it. He dodges the second knife and slowly caresses her cheek, pushing her hair aside and bending her head to show the neck. Her already weak, decayed spirit still begs “no…plea…no…”. He painlessly bites her neck and drinks her lifeless.
When he’s done, he removes the knife from his chest and takes her to the basement, where all the other victims from that town rested. He looked at the pile of bodies and decided he had to move to another city, after all this was the information age; he could not underestimate the human’s denial about his existence.
- She understood... – He thought to himself, sitting in his mobile throne. He was the king of that vampire region; all of Europe’s damned creatures were under his domain. But he didn’t give them a thought. – I wonder when it happened…? I remember when I was bit and converted, but when did I actually become a murderer? I remember meeting a guy who once said that everything ran on one universal principal “Equivalent trade”. In order to get something, you must give something in return. I got eternal life but in return, I lost the greatest privilege of all. Freedom. I’m forever bound and restraint by the culture of my people and by the biological need for human blood. This was a good youngster, a bright young human with a long and fruitful future…and I killed her so I could live. No wonder not one of us feels relief, ever. We’re compelled to survive in this unfriendly, dog eat dog world. Force to hide from those below us in the food-chain and frankly, we disserve it. We stand one step over the grave but not quite there yet, up from the point we’re vampires, we’re destined to go to hell…no matter what we do. I could slay all the vampires on hearth I’d still go to hell for I have the blood of the devil, my father. None of us asked for it, but we all got it and are in no hurry to meet that bastard. So we roam across the world, feeding on the weaker like they’re animals. I wanted to kill my family’s murderer, but I couldn’t after his laky corrupted my blood. I understood him; I felt sorry for him I can still remember that. Humpf! – He gets up and kicks a chair:
- Who the hell can be proud of being a vampire? No sun, no pleasure or good sentiment about ANYTHING. Nothing pleases us but being alive to NOT see the devil himself. They call me monster… - He walks to his nesting place, coffin. – They call me myth. – He lies down and closes the coffin saying to himself. – They call me many things but what I am…is the devil’s hand which refuses to move and dreads the day it will belong to his arm again.