You are the only person with a beating heart. Everyone around you, hiding behind masks, elegant dancing, and fanged smiles, is just waiting for the chance to pounce and drink you dry. Don’t move. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Just return their smiles and act like nothing is wrong.
That would explain my community, the town I grew up in, and the people filling it.
The people surrounding you here are always watching, waiting for you to make a mistake. Because, let’s be honest, they aren’t human. They don’t make mistakes, like you. They aren’t a mess, like you. They don’t have imperfect families, like you.
They always go to church.
They never miss a football game.
They have a career, not a “job”.
What happens in the bar, stays in the bar… unless it’s something you did.
If they have a tattoo, theirs is better than yours, because their reasons for getting one were holier.
They support a cause more ardently than you do.
Their kids don’t make mistakes. It’s the teacher’s fault.
They don’t make mistakes. That’s your fault.
Oh yes, they look human, but God would not curse them to be such an imperfect being, like you.
Oh yes, they say they are imperfect, though it is a perfect kind of imperfection, one that you will never achieve.
You are the only human in a locality of vampires. How dare you flaw their perfect community? On the same hand, how dare you complain about being a part of their town? Even though you are a mar to their perfect society, you are clearly blessed to be a part of it. Though it agitates them you are here, they also like it. As long as you remain imperfect, unsuccessful, and unhappy, you make them look like angels. They smile at you from beneath their masks because your are their favorite stool to tear down to make themselves look mighty.
Heaven forbid the day that you do make something of yourself, imperfections and all. How dare you raise yourself from their level? How could you become impervious to their gossip and slander, and in so doing, make yourself better than them?
That is when the masks come off to reveal the true monsters beneath.
Fight hard. Run fast. Don’t let them put you back in that imperfect place they have set aside for you. That is where they will drain you dry.
This explains the community of people I am surrounded by. There are a few exceptions, but not many, and they are as hated as I am by the majority. We weren’t supposed to amount to a thing. We aren’t supposed to be happy and successful. Our very presence offends the vampires because we are mirrors that reveal them for who they are.
The vampire will read this and feel judged and spited.
The human will read this and know exactly what I’m talking about.
Wipe the dust off of your feet. Don't look back. Let them burn in their own perfect fire.
Author of the fantasy series, Tales of the Wovlen, Kathryn spends a great deal of time in the world of her imagination, having tea with fire breathing dragons, writing books on flying space ships, and practicing her mad scientist laugh with gusto. However, on occasion,she returns to this world just to play with her dog and blog about her fun.
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