Not Just Blood

“Don't waste it. Now sign.” - The Devil, 'Phantom of the Paradise'

In Danse Macabre, Stephen King did something that made a hell of an impression on me. He grouped the monsters of popular literature into a sort of supernatural tarot deck, doing a nice job of analyzing the deeper meanings and symbolism behind each one. He did it so well, in fact, that every time I have ever tried to use his theory as a stepping stone in this blog or elsewhere without first going back and brushing up on it, I have made a royal mess. I keep adding cards of my own (no jokes about me not playing with a full deck to begin with, please), and turning his concept into something it isn't. I love the idea, and constantly play with it. Needless to say, I keep a copy of Danse Macabre on the shelf in my study. Needless to say, I had to rewrite this damn entry because I didn't consult that book first.

King's deck includes these cards: The werewolf, the ghost, the thing with no name, and the vampire. But these cards tend to bleed colors, and if you shuffle them quickly the differences blur. Two of them are undead, and some of the old legends held that if you were a werewolf in life, you would rise as a vampire after you died. The 'thing,' as personified by Frankenstein's monster, burns with a bestial wrath that we also see in the werewolf, and is driven by an intangible hunger that will never be satisfied, like the werewolf. Missing from the deck, because he has wider implications than our concepts of what it is to be human, is the devil. But very frequently, Old Scratch makes a guest appearance in a story, usually in a mood to make a deal. When he steps on stage, he's cultured, articulate, and plays on all our suppressed insecurities and desires. He offers so much, but takes more than he ever gives, and his pacts are sealed in our own blood. Like the vampire.

Part of what seems to set a good vampire story apart from a mediocre one is the type of threat that the bloodsucker represents. The vamp in a monster-of-the-week show will stalk you down a dark alley and stab you in the neck with two razor-sharp fangs. But will it attack your bank account and credit score, draining them drop by drop? Does it hunger for your job, your house? Will it feed on your friendships and your family ties, weakening them until you call someone close to you to spend time together, and they say they're busy, maybe dropping a hint how much it annoys them when you always expect them to change their plans at the last minute?

In 'Dracula,' the count is a slow, deliberate predator. He first attacks Jonathon Harker, a clean-cut young man with a bright future, and that first attack doesn't even break the skin. The isolation of Dracula's castle, and the fact he's the only living person in it bites Jonathon's sense of self, his sense of identity as a cultured Englishman, easily capable of dealing with an eccentric European noble. In a very real way, Dracula attacks Mina, by taking Lucy before her. In existing in the first place, he hurts that sense of pride that a good Christian man and woman must feel at knowing that God is on their side, and that he has granted them stewardship over the whole earth.

In the films, 'The Moth Diaries' and 'Let's Scare Jessica To Death' (both examples of movies where the vampire never shows a fang) the monster strips the heroine of her support structure first, sending friends away or turning loved ones against her. She goes from being part of a loving group to an isolated loner who doubts her own sanity almost as much as those around her doubt it. Of course, the whole time the damage is being done, the vampire wears a sympathetic smile, offering a friendly ear and a shoulder to lean on. She's stealing the heroine's life, all of it. Not just the red stuff that keeps oxygen circulating through her body.

There's a subtle hint in that storytelling technique, one that shows the reader or viewer something about this monster. If it feeds on intangible concepts, how can it be natural? A virus or bacteria can (in this world we shape with a tap of our fingers on a keyboard) alter someone's biology so that they can only subsist on blood, sure. Just as another bug can make someone shapeshift into a wolf when they're exposed to enough lunar radiation. (Yeah. I know I'm reaching) But to feed on friendship, let alone someone else's friendship? How can anything like that be real in the sense that we understand the word? How would you fight that attack? If you say 'well, I'd just tell people. You can't trick someone who knows what's going on, and this is worth the risk,' then do this. Call up someone close to you, and tell them. Get out your phone and redial the last person you had a long conversation with, one that made you smile and feel happy. As soon as they answer, warn them not to talk to anyone named Elson. Tell them this man is at least two hundred years old, and that you personally saw him crawl like a roach up the outside wall of your local courthouse. Tell them you'll give more details later, but that this threat is real.

That cold sensation you got in your stomach when you imagined doing it? Yeah. That image you have of how that person would never look at you the same way again? Of all the calls they would make after you hung up? That's what would happen, if you didn't make the call, and even if you did.

Here's something to think about, too. This depiction of vampirism? It lets us use it with monsters that love to eat garlic, walk in and out of people's houses without an invitation, and who wear crucifixes while they sunbathe. That's where part of the horror comes from, knowing that those results can happen in our world, not just the ones we escape to. All it takes is us cracking up under the strain of modern life, or one semi-clever sociopath. Either cause is very real, and very human.

So vampires don't exist, you say?

To end this on a cheery note, I found out the other day that a friend of mine has started a YouTube channel, and is posting videos of his tips and mods for the game of Minecraft. I've been curious about this game for a while, ever since I was randomly browsing YouTube and found a video of a young man showing off this huge house that he and his friend had built. He then tried to build a fireplace in the house, and burned the whole thing down. On camera.

Go check out my friend's channel. His name is Vaygrim, and the vids are called 'Vaygrim's Chance.' I watched a couple of them, and even if you have no clue about the game, it's fun to watch someone slap together an underground bunker right in front of you, complete with a lava-powered forge.

Still writing.