Horst laughs. "Touché! Fine, then -- a tale of unimpeachable ambition, and of wicked methods -- a tale of loss and of longing. A tale, perhaps, to sober the soul . . . and then, finally, to end in dissatisfaction for all concerned, and in questions that make for tales of their own. I shall briefly transport you.
"The year is somewhat after 1880; the place, the German Empire. Both could be somewhat more specific, one argues: but too many specifics do not a good story make, and there is little enough in this particular piece of my history to make a good story. Here, the audience finds two men, youngish. The elder is myself: a handsome and delightful young fellow, and the subject of this sad tale. I am, at this time, perhaps not perfect, still sowing the wild oats of youth when others have laid down deeper roots, but to the greater observation, still a likable protagonist.
"The other young man is my lesser by a few years: in age as well as vivacity and experience. Yet he aims to settle himself early, which intent seems likely to be realized when he takes a fiancée and begins his path to adulthood. Compared side by side with the elder men, the younger one has little to recommend him; he is hard-working, serious, and impersonable. But, lest the audience judge him too quickly wanting for these things: he is a good man. There is no shortcoming in the younger; he wants only to be left in peace to seek out his own happiness.
"One summer, as inevitably happens, tragedy strikes: the younger man's fiancée dies quite suddenly. He slips into a terrible grief.
"Unwilling to accept this loss, he reorders his life entirely -- searching far and wide to discover a way to return what was lost, a way to defeat death. Eternal life for human beings.
"He learns much, but not the thing he seeks. There are ways, perhaps, dark and forbidden ways whose secrets the devil keeps . . . but they cannot be had except for the price of a soul, and there the elder man draws his line in the sand, thinking still to reach the younger. The elder agrees to aid the younger in his search -- in his research -- if he will forego a devil's bargain.
"The scene, changes, abruptly, to England; the elder man's hair grows somewhat, to indicate the passage of time. The younger man's, I should note here in interests of characterization, does not. Mist covers the stage, and in it, cheap gravestones can be seen in gray silhouette. A cemetery.
"In it, there is a crypt. In the crypt, there may be a vampire.
"The younger man is nervous, suddenly. He begs me descend the stairs first; I oblige.
"Within, we find the vampire we seek. We hadn't expected her awake, but naturally she is, or what sort of story would that make? He has forgotten to set back his pocketwatch. Sunset has come early.
"I was first down the stairs. I'm attacked. I fight.
"He runs."
Horst pauses, as much for effect as for genuine need of it, to let his own memories wash over him for a moment.
"I call for him, but by now the younger man is gone. I call for him, and a vampire drives her teeth into my throat and the sound of my own voice makes me a bit dizzy. I call for him, and there is a sound of a stone door, slammed shut; I call for him, and metal hasps on metal as a lock is snapped closed, and the audience wonders how they can hear it, such a little thing, over the sound of the struggle and my screaming voice, but somehow still, they know they can. I call for him, and find some lingering strength in me, and wrestle back the vampire and kill her, and still he doesn't answer.
"I have called for him many times. He doesn't come. By now, the younger man is gone."
Horst pauses again, remembering himself closed up in that featureless black space, ramming the door with his shoulder over and over until his shirt was ruined, and then his arm, trying to force the lock.
"A few hours pass. I wait. I have hope that the younger man will return for me in the safety of the daylight . . . but dawn comes, and he does not.
"Two days more pass -- here I am guessing, of course; I had no way to track the time in truth -- the man in the crypt begins to be confronted by his own weakness. He is -- I am hungry.
"I eat the others first, the other members of the dead woman's family. I am frightened of her still -- the vampire.
"Eventually, though, there remains no one else to eat, and I turn on the woman. This is when I die, this moment of stupidity, and not before: I die when I drink the blood of the thing that drank mine."
He looks over again, to make sure the dragon's still listening and has not (oh, ego) fallen asleep.
"There -- this is how I became a vampire. I might have died a human being quite easily, you see. It was my own sheer stupidity that brought me low."
no subject
"The year is somewhat after 1880; the place, the German Empire. Both could be somewhat more specific, one argues: but too many specifics do not a good story make, and there is little enough in this particular piece of my history to make a good story. Here, the audience finds two men, youngish. The elder is myself: a handsome and delightful young fellow, and the subject of this sad tale. I am, at this time, perhaps not perfect, still sowing the wild oats of youth when others have laid down deeper roots, but to the greater observation, still a likable protagonist.
"The other young man is my lesser by a few years: in age as well as vivacity and experience. Yet he aims to settle himself early, which intent seems likely to be realized when he takes a fiancée and begins his path to adulthood. Compared side by side with the elder men, the younger one has little to recommend him; he is hard-working, serious, and impersonable. But, lest the audience judge him too quickly wanting for these things: he is a good man. There is no shortcoming in the younger; he wants only to be left in peace to seek out his own happiness.
"One summer, as inevitably happens, tragedy strikes: the younger man's fiancée dies quite suddenly. He slips into a terrible grief.
"Unwilling to accept this loss, he reorders his life entirely -- searching far and wide to discover a way to return what was lost, a way to defeat death. Eternal life for human beings.
"He learns much, but not the thing he seeks. There are ways, perhaps, dark and forbidden ways whose secrets the devil keeps . . . but they cannot be had except for the price of a soul, and there the elder man draws his line in the sand, thinking still to reach the younger. The elder agrees to aid the younger in his search -- in his research -- if he will forego a devil's bargain.
"The scene, changes, abruptly, to England; the elder man's hair grows somewhat, to indicate the passage of time. The younger man's, I should note here in interests of characterization, does not. Mist covers the stage, and in it, cheap gravestones can be seen in gray silhouette. A cemetery.
"In it, there is a crypt. In the crypt, there may be a vampire.
"The younger man is nervous, suddenly. He begs me descend the stairs first; I oblige.
"Within, we find the vampire we seek. We hadn't expected her awake, but naturally she is, or what sort of story would that make? He has forgotten to set back his pocketwatch. Sunset has come early.
"I was first down the stairs. I'm attacked. I fight.
"He runs."
Horst pauses, as much for effect as for genuine need of it, to let his own memories wash over him for a moment.
"I call for him, but by now the younger man is gone. I call for him, and a vampire drives her teeth into my throat and the sound of my own voice makes me a bit dizzy. I call for him, and there is a sound of a stone door, slammed shut; I call for him, and metal hasps on metal as a lock is snapped closed, and the audience wonders how they can hear it, such a little thing, over the sound of the struggle and my screaming voice, but somehow still, they know they can. I call for him, and find some lingering strength in me, and wrestle back the vampire and kill her, and still he doesn't answer.
"I have called for him many times. He doesn't come. By now, the younger man is gone."
Horst pauses again, remembering himself closed up in that featureless black space, ramming the door with his shoulder over and over until his shirt was ruined, and then his arm, trying to force the lock.
"A few hours pass. I wait. I have hope that the younger man will return for me in the safety of the daylight . . . but dawn comes, and he does not.
"Two days more pass -- here I am guessing, of course; I had no way to track the time in truth -- the man in the crypt begins to be confronted by his own weakness. He is -- I am hungry.
"I eat the others first, the other members of the dead woman's family. I am frightened of her still -- the vampire.
"Eventually, though, there remains no one else to eat, and I turn on the woman. This is when I die, this moment of stupidity, and not before: I die when I drink the blood of the thing that drank mine."
He looks over again, to make sure the dragon's still listening and has not (oh, ego) fallen asleep.
"There -- this is how I became a vampire. I might have died a human being quite easily, you see. It was my own sheer stupidity that brought me low."