Vampyr

I haven't talked about him much. Because he terrifies me. Like any vampire, I fear the simple mention of him can summon him. Not that he has been around for a very long time. But I never know. Consider this: there was the morning I could not find my bright blue fleece slipper socks, the ones I always wear. They were not beside my bed where I always leave them when I take them off at night. Just not there. So I went down the hall and let out Bumby. And then when I opened the back door to let her back in, there were my socks, out on the back porch, lying there neatly folded.

For 3 days I thought myself insane. Because it was harder to accept the concrete truth of a very spooky man: he had come into my house, taken the socks, waited outside in the dawn, placed them just so, right where I would find them. Bumby knew him, she would never bark at him. He would speak to her softly, maybe give her a treat. He is brilliant, in his odd and twisted way, an eccentric genius even. And he probably thought it was funny, his little prank, sneaking into and around my house. He would also deny ever doing it, if accused.

But he did it. I know he did. I knew he had been creeping around my house! I had seen tracks in the snow and heard weird noises in the dark outside my bedroom window. I had recently asked him to give me back the key to my front door that he had, never once thinking he would make himself a copy, creep into my house, and mess with my mind a little bit more. After I let myself believe the truth of the blue fleece slipper socks, I asked the X to put a new dead bolt lock on the front door. And I lock it every time I go out, even yet, all these years later.

I have always had a tolerance for odd people. I was brought up with such human oddities, I learned not to judge them by their oddness. That has changed. I am much less tolerant about who I let into my personal sphere. The Vampyr is the reason for that.

And why do I call him the Vampyr? You might be wondering that. Because he stayed up most of the night, lurking around. He was good at quiet stealth. Also because he was pale and said some of his ancestors came from the Transylvania region of the Carpathian Mountains. But primarily because he fed off my vitality. He was like the X in that he was attracted to my strength, and he fed off that strength, and then when I was not strong anymore, when I was ill and in need--I had my last major breakdown while he was here, big surprise, eh?--he resented me and would not help me. And then I told him to leave, because he had to go. He refused to help out around here and his unhappiness was poisoning the atmosphere, and I had enough poison inside me to deal with already. Also, he broke things I held dear, secretly, but I have talked about that in an earlier blog.

He had an affinity for UFOs and extra-terrestrials. He believes in their reality and knows all the types of creatures and why they come here, what they want. He wants one to come and take him away. He has wanted it most of his life. (He also believed he could become immortal by eating an expensive food supplement made from gold and purported to be the actual manna the ancient Israelites ate in the desert during their 40 years of Moses leading them to the promised land. That, and he was so convinced the world was going to end in early 2000, he stashed away his possessions, enough to homestead a new place-- a castle in fact!, deep within the wilds of the forested mountains to the north. His own promised land. He literally bankrupted himself with credit cards used to acquire all he would need in his brave new world. I am not making this up. And yes, I know--now--he is nuts, and not in a fun way. But he is smart, he is oh so smart, wily coyote smart. It got so I believed he had actually been picked up by some ship and maybe even had some kind of homing device inserted into his brain. Because while he was around, especially the last summer he was around, I myself became convinced there were aliens all around this area. And that they were around me, because of him, and I was terrified by that.

The potential reality of aliens and UFOs have always terrified me. That stuff just scares the crap out of me--with the exception of Spielberg's film, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", that is. The night after I saw the movie 'Signs', a movie everyone I know laughs at and says to me, "I can't believe that scared you!", I was convinced those very same aliens were in my room. I heard them talking their weird clicking language, I saw one standing in the doorway and another looking in the window. I was out of my mind with fear.

Another night I dreamt a huge and horrible dark ship was hovering over the ski mountain to the south. The dream was as clear as a vision. The Vampyr got home--he worked nights, of course!--and told me that as he was driving back he saw a beautiful shining white ship hovering over the ski mountain to the south. He was overjoyed by the sight of it.

There was more stuff, all too weird. I can't even say it, you would never believe me, it is that weird. Maybe another time, another story. And, maybe not.

I ran into him last summer. I had not seen him for a very long time. He had been stalking me for awhile, early mornings when the dogs and I walked, but then he went away, and I heard no more about him, and I hoped he had left the area. Anyway, last summer, I had the use of a car and I went to the supermarket across the river. It was an odd day, I was feeling kind of unbalanced and unhappy. In the market, I was standing in front of a cold case, trying to decide on which iced tea to buy my daughter. Suddenly a face, right up in mine. The Vampyr, only he has shaved his head. I hate shaved heads (unless, of course, you are Jean Luc Picard--'Star Trek' is great! And, aliens in unrealistic, futuristic settings don't scare me). He chirped, "Hey."

I reeled back. I swallowed hard. I looked up at him, my mean face on. I growled low in my throat: "Get the hell away from me."

And he did, quick as that. Gone, saying, "Noooooo," as he went . Truly. I only wish I was making this up, but why would I make up such yuck?

One last bit of yuck: after he left, I had a terrifying dream, being in a car at night, with him, careening down a twisting mountain road and coming on a fearful accident scene. No one else there, only the silence of death, lurid red light and headlights blazing, and ruined bodies and blood, so much blood. A scene of horror, all black and yellow and red. That's part of what he has inside of him. That kind of terror and gore. So much yuck. So much more I could tell. But probably not. This has been more than enough. Twisted. Who knows what went awry in him, or what happened to him. He is not normal! And for so long, that was okay with me. I even prided myself on my tolerance. But not anymore, not like that, and not within the sphere of my life. Get the hell away from me, indeed.

Until next time, I remain, your friend, Rozenkraai