Research Project
by
Cheryl Hearn
A small piece of a much larger tale
of a Real Vampire
by
Cheryl Hearn
A small piece of a much larger tale
of a Real Vampire
CONTEST
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the article in your e-mail.
Vampires: The Mystery, The Intrigue, The Reality. Catchy title, huh? I thought so. I had
spent months reading everything available about modern day vampires. They do exist. I
knew they did. Just not in the form everyone assumes. They aren’t Lestat’s or Dracula’s,
but they are vampires nonetheless. I had one last thing to do before my paper was complete;
to meet a real vampire. I had searched online for months trying to find a legitimate, real life
vampire. I finally found one.
It all began as an email inquiry. I explained what I was doing (writing a paper) and what I
was interested in (meeting, in a public place, and asking questions). He was very receptive.
He was a seemingly intelligent, normal (other than the fact that he needed blood to sustain his
life) guy. We talked for several weeks, getting to know each other, him telling me of his life,
how he came to realize what he was, etc. When I felt comfortable with him, we agreed to
meet.
Now, before I go on, I should explain something to you. I had no intentions of doing
anything but talking with my friend. Yes, I now considered him my friend. I certainly did
not anticipate becoming a blood donor. But more about that later…
His name was Jericho and he was beautiful. I realize by today’s standards that beautiful is a
term used for women but this man was beautiful. He had long curly black hair and the
biggest deep brown eyes I’d ever seen. He was tall; really tall, six foot, seven inches to be
exact. He had a number of tattoos, beautifully done, one ear pierced, a nipple ring and a
tongue ring. He was quite the epitome of a bad boy. And the best part, guess where he
lived? That’s right. The heart of vampire myth, New Orleans.
We had made arrangements to meet in New Orleans. It actually served a two-fold purpose as
I had never been to New Orleans and I got to meet him. My plane landed and until that point
I never thought to get nervous. On the way to the hotel (in the heart of the French Quarter, I
might add) I began to get a little nervous about meeting my vampire. It wasn’t like I was
planning a rendezvous with a lover. But it was something new, unexplored territory, so to
speak, so a case of the nervous jitters settled in the pit of my stomach.
I checked into my room and glanced at the clock. I had two hours to finish preparing my
notes, get showered, changed and get to Jackson Square, where we had agreed to meet. I
dressed casually. Remember, this was not a date, just two friends meeting for dinner and
chat. I donned a pair of comfortable blue jean shorts and curiously enough, a t-shirt that said,
“Got Blood?” I laugh now at my choice but at the time, it was an unconscious decision.
I know what you are thinking. You believe somewhere in the back of my mind I had thought
this might go further. You may be right. I have pondered that myself since then. Maybe I
did know in the back of my mind that I wanted more from him than just the answers to some
questions. After all, I could have gotten all those answers from the many hours of
conversations we had had in the course of the last few months. At any rate, the conscious
part of my mind thought I was going to have dinner, nothing more.
When the time came to leave for Jackson Square, the nerves slammed home and I had to take
several deep breaths in order to avoid throwing up. Shaking it off, I headed downstairs and
hailed a taxi, intent on my purpose. When I arrived at my destination, I paid the driver and
walked to our appointed place, only to see him standing there watching me intently.
If possible, he was even more beautiful than his picture. I guess I should interject here that
as soon as I saw my vampire, my IQ bottomed out and I was, for once in my life, quite
speechless. As we closed the last few steps between us, all logical thought was gone. He
folded me within his strong embrace and hugged me like you would an old and dear friend,
one who you have missed terribly and are extremely glad to see. I hugged him just as tightly,
sighing softly at the comfort I felt within his arms. He murmured a few words in French that
I neither remember nor understood but it felt… well… it felt like I was where I belonged.
With those few words, he took my hand and we walked the few blocks to the restaurant that
he assured me had the best seafood in the Quarter. And he was right. It was unlike any
seafood I had ever had and I thought I had had good seafood.
We talked non-stop through dinner and time passed quickly. We never got around to my
questions, just talked of our lives, of our hopes, of dreams. I could have listened to him for
days without ever noticing the passing time. He had a deep, seductive voice with just a hint
of a French accent hidden within the deep Cajun drawl.
When the time came to vacate the premises or risk getting thrown out, we fought over the
check. He won. It was then that I realized none of my questions were answered.
Yes, you are probably right. It was an excuse to continue the evening. As it turned out, I
didn’t need an excuse. He was as anxious as I to not let it end. We walked around the
French Quarter, his hand resting comfortably and naturally on my lower back, pointing out
old legends, myths, truly haunted buildings. You could tell how much he loved it there by the
animation in his eyes, in his voice. I was spellbound with the feel of the city. It was alive
and I could totally understand why he loved it so.
It seemed natural to invite him up when our journey through the Quarter brought us to my
hotel. Now, my vampire didn’t drink, but I knew without a doubt that I needed a glass of
wine. He guided me up the steps to the Jazz bar in the lobby of my hotel and it was there that
my fate was decided…
(1087 Words)
spent months reading everything available about modern day vampires. They do exist. I
knew they did. Just not in the form everyone assumes. They aren’t Lestat’s or Dracula’s,
but they are vampires nonetheless. I had one last thing to do before my paper was complete;
to meet a real vampire. I had searched online for months trying to find a legitimate, real life
vampire. I finally found one.
It all began as an email inquiry. I explained what I was doing (writing a paper) and what I
was interested in (meeting, in a public place, and asking questions). He was very receptive.
He was a seemingly intelligent, normal (other than the fact that he needed blood to sustain his
life) guy. We talked for several weeks, getting to know each other, him telling me of his life,
how he came to realize what he was, etc. When I felt comfortable with him, we agreed to
meet.
Now, before I go on, I should explain something to you. I had no intentions of doing
anything but talking with my friend. Yes, I now considered him my friend. I certainly did
not anticipate becoming a blood donor. But more about that later…
His name was Jericho and he was beautiful. I realize by today’s standards that beautiful is a
term used for women but this man was beautiful. He had long curly black hair and the
biggest deep brown eyes I’d ever seen. He was tall; really tall, six foot, seven inches to be
exact. He had a number of tattoos, beautifully done, one ear pierced, a nipple ring and a
tongue ring. He was quite the epitome of a bad boy. And the best part, guess where he
lived? That’s right. The heart of vampire myth, New Orleans.
We had made arrangements to meet in New Orleans. It actually served a two-fold purpose as
I had never been to New Orleans and I got to meet him. My plane landed and until that point
I never thought to get nervous. On the way to the hotel (in the heart of the French Quarter, I
might add) I began to get a little nervous about meeting my vampire. It wasn’t like I was
planning a rendezvous with a lover. But it was something new, unexplored territory, so to
speak, so a case of the nervous jitters settled in the pit of my stomach.
I checked into my room and glanced at the clock. I had two hours to finish preparing my
notes, get showered, changed and get to Jackson Square, where we had agreed to meet. I
dressed casually. Remember, this was not a date, just two friends meeting for dinner and
chat. I donned a pair of comfortable blue jean shorts and curiously enough, a t-shirt that said,
“Got Blood?” I laugh now at my choice but at the time, it was an unconscious decision.
I know what you are thinking. You believe somewhere in the back of my mind I had thought
this might go further. You may be right. I have pondered that myself since then. Maybe I
did know in the back of my mind that I wanted more from him than just the answers to some
questions. After all, I could have gotten all those answers from the many hours of
conversations we had had in the course of the last few months. At any rate, the conscious
part of my mind thought I was going to have dinner, nothing more.
When the time came to leave for Jackson Square, the nerves slammed home and I had to take
several deep breaths in order to avoid throwing up. Shaking it off, I headed downstairs and
hailed a taxi, intent on my purpose. When I arrived at my destination, I paid the driver and
walked to our appointed place, only to see him standing there watching me intently.
If possible, he was even more beautiful than his picture. I guess I should interject here that
as soon as I saw my vampire, my IQ bottomed out and I was, for once in my life, quite
speechless. As we closed the last few steps between us, all logical thought was gone. He
folded me within his strong embrace and hugged me like you would an old and dear friend,
one who you have missed terribly and are extremely glad to see. I hugged him just as tightly,
sighing softly at the comfort I felt within his arms. He murmured a few words in French that
I neither remember nor understood but it felt… well… it felt like I was where I belonged.
With those few words, he took my hand and we walked the few blocks to the restaurant that
he assured me had the best seafood in the Quarter. And he was right. It was unlike any
seafood I had ever had and I thought I had had good seafood.
We talked non-stop through dinner and time passed quickly. We never got around to my
questions, just talked of our lives, of our hopes, of dreams. I could have listened to him for
days without ever noticing the passing time. He had a deep, seductive voice with just a hint
of a French accent hidden within the deep Cajun drawl.
When the time came to vacate the premises or risk getting thrown out, we fought over the
check. He won. It was then that I realized none of my questions were answered.
Yes, you are probably right. It was an excuse to continue the evening. As it turned out, I
didn’t need an excuse. He was as anxious as I to not let it end. We walked around the
French Quarter, his hand resting comfortably and naturally on my lower back, pointing out
old legends, myths, truly haunted buildings. You could tell how much he loved it there by the
animation in his eyes, in his voice. I was spellbound with the feel of the city. It was alive
and I could totally understand why he loved it so.
It seemed natural to invite him up when our journey through the Quarter brought us to my
hotel. Now, my vampire didn’t drink, but I knew without a doubt that I needed a glass of
wine. He guided me up the steps to the Jazz bar in the lobby of my hotel and it was there that
my fate was decided…
(1087 Words)