Today I started to write my memoirs. I feel the weight of the damned upon my shoulders.
The cats are screaming. I must feed them. They refuse to catch their own food. I will start feeding them salad greens to inspire them to channel into their carnivore souls.
The cats are not happy with me.
Three hundred years of sleep has put me at a disadvantage. I wake and the world is an alien planet. Yes, I, Vlad the Vampire King, know what Science Fiction is. I make a comparison, only the world in which I have awakened is not fiction.
I’ve read the stories of Philip K. Dick, Ursula K. Le Guin, and H. G. Wells. Their worlds are hardly less fantastic than what I see before me each and every single day. Yet, their writing is bold and…
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