~ Journal of a Malkavian Vampire ~

Copyright DoctorAllCome.com - All Rights Reserved

(That means DON'T help yourself to anything on this website!
This journal is the sole property of Dr. John Necessitor)


3.23.15 (1:37 pm)
The Vampire sat in his office at his desk. The large flat surface held nothing at the moment...not even a pad and pen. Dr. Necessitor placed his palm on the edge of the cool stone for a moment, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A lot was on his mind it seemed.

He thought about the phone calls he shouldn't have made, but did. He thought about the phone call he should have made but didn't. The Vampire sighed and opened his eyes. The H.R. Giger hung on the wall across from him.

Dead. The Swedish artist had died last year, but at least he had an original. He poindered that the painting was probably worth a lot more now...not that it wasn't worth a lot to begin with.

He thought about someone else that would have been dead - at his hand - if he had......

The Vampire shook his head violently. Looking back he knew that would have been a very, very bad decision. The only thing was, it would have been more of a knee-jerk impulse more than a decision. It certainly wasn't thought out.

"Damned impulses," he growled under his breath. "Damn urges," he added, thinking of something else that was not necessarily off the topic of killing.

He drew air into his lungs deeply, then exhaled slowly, closing his eyes once more for a moment, pushing those thoughts to the side. Something had changed...one thing in particular that he dwelled on, probably more than he should. He thought he would never speak with her again. How wrong he was about that. In a way it was liberating, but in another way it still fucked him in the head. There were certainly tmes he wished he could take back that knowledge, but in the end, it seemed to be for the best.

He also knew he needed to clarify things, though he should have done that some time ago. Yet if he did clarify things, and they didn't care he would want to do very bad things to each and every one that didn't give a shit. They didn't seem to give a shit before, so using that experience as a basis.......at that moment he decided not to contact those people. He would clarify things his own way, and soon. Those who came across the information would know by way of finding it. Soon - he needed to do it soon - if only for himself.

The Vampire knew he would also have to work to make things better. Things he had discussed with someone as they walked together on a beach not all that long ago. Well, maybe it was awhile ago, last year anyway. He grit his teeth for a moment. "Yes, have to work on things," he said quietly to himself.

His mind then went to a poem he had written a few years ago. It brought a slight grin to his face.

The Dreams

She comes to him within the dreams
Flaxen hair and darkened wings
Feathers long and black as night
Ageless beauty, perfect sight

She whispers softly in his mind
I'm here right now, one-of-a-kind
He tries to reach out for her hand
She fades from view, again he's banned

Angel? Demon? All the same
He doesn't even know her name
He wrestles to get out of bed
She's always there, inside his head

He pushes back the coffin top
Time to wake, no time to stop
He'll stalk the streets and hunt and feed
And wait 'til dawn to go to sleep

A wait too long, beyond the grave
To slip down in that casket cave
Fall into sleep, unconscious deems
So he could see her in the dreams

The grin slowly faded and he sighed again. There was definitely too much on his mind. A mix of advice a good friend had given him (actually several gems of advice on several occasions) in regards to the here and now and some other things he could not directly quote at the moment as he felt like his brain was being filled to the brim with conflicting thoughts.

He thought about the group of beings that were important. The slight grin returned. Things...yes, things needed to be accomplished. Accomplished - not done. Done seemed so...done. Was anything really done?

It was raining outside. A walk in the rain seemed like a really good idea at the moment, and he didn't think it would turn to heavy black oil and push him into the ground. The black oil would never go away, not that it was a concern.

He nodded his head in answer to the myriad of questions in his mind and left the office to go walk outside in the rain.


3.24.15 (2:40 pm)
He had purchased the cabin several months ago, but didn't tell anyone about it, save the one. It was in a desolated area, certainly off the beaten path. He was rather pleased that he got it for a song. There had been a brutal murder at the place and it wasn't exactly the most desired home for most. The Vampire grinned. It suited him just fine. He strolled into the kitchen. There were still bloodstains on the floor and the large, marred wooden table that dominated the room.

He walked back into the living room, brushed some of the dust off the old couch and sat down. A frown settled on his face as he glanced around the room, the expression not due to the sparsely furnished room with the threadbare carpet.

"Once again," he muttered under his breath. "Once again."

He supposed he could act like he just realized he was not just part of the problem, but WAS the problem but that would just be stupid. He knew it, had known it. He scoffed as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and loosely cross his arms, letting his hands hang down.

He knew sometimes his wants overshadowed the needs. Things that needed to be done - things that were important to be done - things that should be done. He also knew sometimes he just didn't give a shit, and stated it out loud.

"You should give a shit," she said quietly.

The Vampire rolled his eyes. He knew she would be coming. He glared at her peeking in through the front door, regretting having told her about the cabin in the first place. It was her first visit and he then decided to have a bit of fun.

"Since you are so happy to give your opinion, why don't you come inside and really make yourself useful."

She opened the door wider and entered the livingroom, giving him a questioning look.

"Close the door and go into the kitchen and get me a glass of water," he stated.

"You're being a bit lazy, aren't you?" she asked giving him a glare. Nothing was ever easy and she was sure he was up to something.

"Get the damned water," he growled at her, then leaned back against the couch.

She shrugged, then headed through the living room in the direction of where the kitchen would logically be. A few moments later she returned, sans the glass of water...her face was pale white.

At this point he just laughed out loud. "Nice kitchen, eh?" he quipped.

She didn't say anything, just slowly shook her head no.

Still grinning he said, "Come sit with me, we shall talk awhile." He patted the cushion next to him, causing a small plume of dust to rise.

She didn't move for a moment, thinking she'd be better off standing, but then decided to take a seat. He was in a good mood now, and she didn't want his mood to turn for the worse.

After carefully sitting down she said, "Yes, we'll talk for awhile." A small smile graced her lips.


4.1.15 (10:06 pm)
It was all on his shoulders. It always had been. Not that he didn't know it. Ha! He wasn't a fucking duck. Shit didn't roll off his shoulders. Shit or otherwise...nothing rolled off. Except the black oil, and ironically, that was a whole different situation.


4.5.15 (12:09 am)
It was at that moment he realized that most were eligible to be circus performers. Most walked on that tightrope, though they may not realize it. He grinned. The circus life was one very different from most. Always changing venues. Always changing many things that one solidified in "life" may not experience.

Yet it was all the same in some twisted way.

"One wrong step and you can drop into another existance, whether that be called by it's popular name of death, or what else it may entail - another existance...another reality."

Again he grinned, but inwardly. His facial expression did not reflect his thoughts on irony and life and death and what any of it really meant. He just knew one thing - it was a game - a very intense, very intricate game. There were no winners or losers. Just moving on to that next level in the "circus."


4.14.15 (11:02 pm)
For the love of Ginger Snaps.


4.18.15 (10:38 pm)
In his own arrogance how many people had he let down? Too many to count. He remember many comments from his "twin." Not comments in accusation...comments to help. He was NOT assimaliting well at all. Well, maybe that was not an entirely truthful statment. He had...he was...to a point - he tried.

One in particular was attached to his soul (and yes, he had one), and he could never fix it. All he could do is...try?

"Ha!" he said out loud to himself. "How do you fix something that cannot be fixed?" You cannot. there was no trying involved. There was no way to fix it. It would always be there. It would never leave, like all the other stuff. Just one more thing added to something that needed not be added to. He pondered for a moment how something in the here and now could be added to all the other stuff. He didn't think it possible....actually, he didn't think about it at all until it presented itself.

He was supposed to stay around...was he not? Ha...who the fuck knows. He paused for a moment thinking about this coming Saturday. He thought about...a few years ago. THAT had not changed. He ... wondered...for a moment. One must let others grow without mental issues. Inwardly he sighed. If she only knew. Maybe she would understand. She would, but she ... would have issues. Best to leave it as it. Best to just fucking die when the time came.

He wondered why....just why and decided that was enough writing for tonight.


6.7.15 (11:35 pm)
She pondered her situation, possibly mumbling some things out loud.

"Why don't you just ask?" he said to her. "Better yet, why don't you just take?" he growled.

"I don't think I have it in me," she said quietly. "Or I wouldn't be in the situation I am in now," she stated with exasperation.

"Did you ask for my help?" he said, knowing she had thought about it...maybe she had.

"I'm not sure," she bluntly replied, then glared at him. "What help would you be anyway?" she asked. "You're not good with people." She sat down on the couch and rested her head in her hands.

"Okay," he growled, "You may have a point, but there is the slightest possibility I am good at acquiring a means to an end." In this statement he was true...especially at the slightest possibility part. There were some things he wanted to achieve but did not, under the circumstances.

"Fine!" he growled, reflecting on his own thoughts.

"I didn't mean anything...bad," she said apologetically.

"No offense taken," he snapped back. "I can do this," he stated as an evil grin slid up his lips. "You just needed to ask."

She let a deep breath escape her lungs and nodded slowly. "Will you help me?"

"Of course," he grinned. "Of course. We need to make a plan, leave some room for unexpected situations. We just need to make the plan, loosely at best and go with it." He was grinning now. A challenge was almost always welcome. It helped with the fucking boredom of most of existence - save the few special situations and creatures he held close, which he kept to himself. "Whenever you're ready," he grinned at her. "I believe we should start as soon as possible."

She looked up at him. A small smile graced her face. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but at this moment, she felt it was possible. She almost whispered "thank you" but knew it wouldn't go well. Instead she said, "I'm ready."

"Are you absolutely sure?' he questioned. "You know my methods may be somewhat controversial."

"Yes," she said. "Please."

At this he grinned. Oddly she did exactly what he expected. He was ready. She leaned toward him and embraced him. He didn't embrace her back. She didn't care. The fact that he didn't shove her backward was enough. She couldn't help it. The words "thank you" escaped from her lips. He didn't seem to mind, he just sported an evil grin. He had told her.....something...something he had told someone else as well. She felt that if she pressed hard enough her arms would go right through him, as if she was hugging a ghost. She successfully forced down a sob, then quickly released her grip and stood before him. "I hope it goes well," she said.

"So do I," he said, the grin still on his face.

She shuttered to think what was going through his mind.


6.17.15 (4:06 am)
He knew where he belonged all this fucking time...yet he tried to deceive himself. He tried to explain things that not one would accept anyway. He deluded himself, and others, obviously. The black oil was always in his dreams, always there. He fought against it - but to what end? When it came right down to it....it didn't matter, not at all. Not at all.

Back to Lab Notes