I am a monster.

I could be nothing less.

I murdered for three nights.

I glutted on the blood of my victims.  Their throats torn away in my need.  Bodies left strewn in the gutters, alleyways and back rooms of the brothels.

Young or old.  As long as their souls were black and evil....I fed.

I cared not for their pleas.  As I did not enthrall them.  Their screams and fear sweetened the wine.  

I am covered in their gore.   Head to toe, I reek of the rotted stench.  

I have no idea the count.  Only the recollection of freedom!  I reveled in my glory and monstrosity.  I was overcome with the very nature of my being.  I was intoxicated by the moon and the mortal beasts needs.

Yet,  I sit here, quill in hand.  Waiting impatiently for the next full moon.

~Lord Kellington

I thirst!
I Hunger!
It gnaws at me.
Pulls at me, my mind is on fire.
Through my window, I see now that the moon will soon be full.  A day or two at the most to wait.

Then will come the beasts.  The mortal men who prowl amid their madness.  Growling, baying, ripping, shredding.

I am connected to them through their blood lust.  I feel their need.  It doubles my own.

My clothes chafe.  
My skin crawls.
I need to ****.
Not hunt....****!

Yet something hold me back.  Keeping me captive in my lair.  It will not allow me to purge this keening need.
It keeps me waiting, the need to **** growing.  It is ecstasy in it's pain.

I have shut Crystal out.  I am not in control of my senses.  She smells now of food.  I will not!

Two more days at the most.
Then I feast!

~Lord Kellington

Tonight is for reflection.
Not the kind found in a mirror.  
Which of course I have none.  Mores the pity.  I would love to see how splendid I look in my new shirt with French lace and ruffles.  Under my sapphire blue waist coat and buckskin riding breeches.  All I can clearly see full of, would be my boots.  The softest leather and a shine to see ones reflection in.  Sigh, But not mine.

Where was I.. Ah yes,  I was waxing philosophical.
One can never be too busy to better ones self.  Thus
my new clothes.

Let's see...reflection.  

While looking back upon my long lived life as the Prince Of Darkness.  I realize, I have been selfish.  Not
once have I invited others to my humble home.  Not once have I hosted a party.  Not once have I allowed others to witness my grandeur.  

Tonight, I vow to remedy that.  I will have a party.  One to outdo all the others which I have had the privilege to crash.  

Hmm.  Perhaps I should start a bit smaller.
A dinner party!
For the intimates of intimates.

Let me see.  Who to invite?

Reginald Wadsworth!  He's a jolly chap.  No.  He was a late night snack a few days ago.

Hortense Mayweather!  She is always in good humor and a fair conversationalist.  No.  She had the misfortune of crossing my path last month while I was woozy from battle blood loss.  A fight with a tresspasser left me a bit worse for wear.  But Hortence fixed me right up.

I've got it!  General Clayston!  He makes for such a fun curmudgeon.  Oh,  He died of old age.

Hmm........

Oh look!  The Carlstayton's are hosting a party tonight.

Looks like I will be dining out.

~Lord Kellington

Oh, the fine attire.  
Women in low cut, grand gowns.
Men in their finest plumage.
Strutting Peacocks, aiming to draw attention.

I wore tails of silk, with fine brocade work as the trim, down the sleek lapels.  I dressed entirely in black.  From head to toe.

I looked splendid!
I stood out from the Peacocks, as a Raven would
stand out among Doves.
Cunning as a Raven too.  She had not one suspicion.

I was at my best.
Charming, witty, a mystery.  Women fall for that.

I slowly, cunningly stalk my prey.  A vision in gold.
I danced with her.  Her gold, a perfect foil to my black.
I charmed her sweetly.  I maneuvered her easily.

I had previous, had the chance to find the spot,
where she would become mine.  Such a pretty throat.  One that I will drown within.

Once outside, hidden, strategically from all eyes, I began my "dance".
I gaze down into her eyes.  Her precious heart begins to race.  I can feel her blood.  It calls to me with it's song.
A song of need.
Her breaths slowed and deepened.  Her eyes remained locked with mine.

I let her see then, the glory of what I am.  She wanted to scream.  But, I had control now.  

My incisors grew.  Their points very sharp indeed.  My muscles bulked.  I ruined my fine new coat.  Split the shoulder seams right out.


I toyed with her.  I kiss her lips so gently.  She trembled for me.  I tried to hold back, wanting to prolong her fear.

Blood lust is, what is.  I could smell her rich, thick blood.  I wanted it all.  I wanted to bathe in it.  Feel it glide over my skin.

My fangs sank deep.  Drawing up the precious blood.  Elixir of life.
As I fed, I heard her heart slowing with each draw I took.  

And just before death could claim her, I released her from her thrall, to scream.  It was the last sound I heard as the men came running.  I took my leave.

I am a monster.
I do it well and I love it so.
Soon the sun shall rise again.
I will sleep as the dead.


~Lord Kellington

Passion through years does grow anew,
when tangled, are emotions, soft.
Respect is held, with trust, aloft.
Seeing more beyond, to value.

Your eyes held mine, that's how I knew,
what became of the years that fly.
They were stepping stones , as whereby,
our years together, passion grew.

Mere words can not give justice to,
the joy in our life's adventures.
From that first kiss when love matures.
George, you are my passion renewed.

A sweeping staircase is her stage.
mahogany and marble.
Dressed to thrill, a fashion plate,
your heart she will ensnarl.

Each step she takes is calculated,
to keep your eyes upon her.
With waistline tight and neckline low,
accentuating the lure.

Her dress does slip, down behind her,
like a river, flowing red.
A sultry pout worn on her lips,
her eyes, promising her bed.

Perfection, there, before you now.
Yet, there stands an obstacle.
There's no chance, for she is just an
airbrushed, magazine model.

I have named it.

The kittens name is....Crystal.
It is an apt name, seeing as
she felt compelled to break
my crystal goblet.

The very one I "drink" from
on the occasions when someone
tries to break in.

One must see to use manners
when one is in his own home.

Crystal has not one.  
She has already used my coffin
as an outhouse.
We are working stridently on
that particular issue.

Last nights hunt was....well,
boring, to say the least.  I was
distracted.  My thoughts were of
home and what Crystal was doing now.

I need to take time.  
Feel the flavor of the hunt.  
Feel my preys fear.  
Or it is like drinking Ale,
instead of a rare wine.

Both will get you there.  
But, as I alwyas say,
One must always choose style.  It is
what separates us from...well,
uncouth mortals and such.

I am not a snob.
I may be pure evil, true.
But, I do have standards.
Few that they may be.

I believe I am fit now.
Tomorrows nights hunt will be
one of the most fun.
I am going to a party.

One I must crash, of course.


~Lord Kellington