IT'S NOT EASY TO ERASE YOUR BLOOD.

[alexandre]

"it's not easy," she would say, dipping her fingers into the ashtray, "it's not easy to erase your blood."

alexandré aldéric stood tall and mysterious looking at the back of the room where everyone was settled. his eyes averted everyone's as he looked, rather dejectedly at the floor. every now and then he would scuff the toe of his shoe across the floor, listening and waiting; waiting for some kind of impeding doom. what was he doing? no-one knew. alexandré wasn't the type of boy to let others know how he felt - he was just as mysterious and as dark as the rest of them who stood next to him. two girls flanked his sides - roxanne dakker on his left and ciara bronwyn on his right. his right arm was twisted around ciara's waist as they stood. all three of them looked like stone. non-moving with their expressions blank. i was nervous to approach them. i knew of them of course, but i didn't know them. i stared in disbelief at them as i drew closer; they were all beautiful in their own ways. all tall and slender. alexandré was the palest of them. he stared at me as i approached them. i began to panic, my mind forgot why i was going over to them.

camden, london, england, two thousand and thirteen.

that's the place and date in the present date; if i was to tell you the place and date that i was born in you wouldn't believe me, same goes for me telling you my real age.

camden; looks just like any other normal place, emphasis on the word 'place', sure it looks the same as usual, sounds the same as usual and probably feels the same as usual (how boring), but that doesn't necessarily means that it is 'normal.' afterall - what is 'normal?' people come and people go, but sometimes people come and don't leave and not in the sense that they die and are buried here, either. by this i mean that certain people in camden arrived here a couple hundred years ago and never left; but they're still alive. i can hear you asking 'how on earth is that possible?' well, you'd best start believing in ghost stories because if you live in camden you are in a ghost story.

have you heard of 'nightwalkers', 'creatures of the darkness', 'nightdwellers' and any other derogatives of 'night'? or, quite simply - vampires. just a myth. modern day vampires. what about the not being able to walk around in sunlight? just a myth. crosses and crucifixes? just a myth. blood thirsty, vicious, dangerous monsters? yes and no. you see, there are some of us that like to hunt - not many, but still a fair few - and then there are those of us that have learned to live off of animals to satisfy ourselves since we live among the humans. there's not as many of us as you'd like to think either. in camden alone there are only four of us, living seperate lives, trying to fit in with the crowds, with the 'normal' humans. it doesn't seem to be working very well though since there's this one guy and this one girl who are hunting us.

taking us down one by one and killing us off. earlier i mentioned that there was four of us, but as we speak i know from instinct and the sounds of her screams echoing in my head that there are now only three of us left. i'm afraid to 'live', we no longer know what to do. i don't think that we are able to sustain our hunger anymore. we're going from one direction to the other. we're fighting the urge, but it's irresistible; to sustain ourselves with human blood. we're withering away and no-one knows. would anyone notice, would anyone care if we left? if i weren't a vampire myself and i put myself into the shoes of the one person that means more to me than anything in the world i would notice and i would care. but that's just me and the word of a vampire isn't very good now, is it?

my name is alexandré. i'm one hundred and thirty three vampire years old. on the outside i look like a normal seventeen year old boy, but i'm more than that - much more.

you wouldn't believe, but:

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IT'S NOT EASY TO ERASE YOUR BLOOD!