Page 1 of The Diary of the Vam'pir Jacques

Part One-

Kaltos.

Prologue.

My name is Jacques, and I’m a Vam’pir or vampire, as modern-day people call us.

This is my story. If you don’t want to read it, don’t. It is simple. I merely offer you a choice: abandon this task or sit back and listen.

Before anything, please don’t ask mind-numbing questions such as, am I evil? Do I turn into a bat? Vam’pir, not shapeshifter!

Do I drink blood?

Be original, and pose a question that will gain my interest.

However, just to note, Idon’tthink I’m the epitome of evil. Although I tend to change my mind quite often. After all, I was once mortal, and mortals are fickle creatures.

Honestly, I might’ve lived thousands of years ago, but I remember when I was once frail and indecisive. The personification of humanity.

Nowadays, I try to study people and their emotions because even though the night is mostly my life, I still mingle amongst you.

Quite possibly, I may be the young guy you talk to at the local pub or cinema. Or I might be the man who picked you upwhen you stumbled drunk into the kerb. But no, I am no longer mortal. I am not one of you.

I’m Vam’pir, as my race is called. We resemble humans, yet we differ. Like sharks and dolphins, similar but not.

As I said, this is my story. Let’s call it my diary.

Sadly, for most of the tale, you don’t have exact dates, just rough ones. After all, I can trace my origins back twelve thousand years.

Surely, this is not the truth, I hear you cry.

Don’t state to me that conventional history declares there was no sentient, civilised life back then. There was. I lived it.

History often proves inaccurate. Even now, cities are being found that disrupt the accepted timeline. It’s amusing how archaeologists have to date them older than the established development of humanity but refuse to change the facts.

The choice rests with you, the human reader, to make your mind up.

As for my brother or sister of the night, you know the truth, however hard you might try to deny it.

I write in a tongue universally accepted and understood. One could say that my language is a dead one. The only people who now utter it are those who were born there. I have also used modern words because today’s speech has so much added meaning.

Words can mean… more today. Contemporary language has a deliciousness mine lacked. I feel that mine would never explain properly what I try to convey. If you want the truth, though, I haven’t spoken my original tongue in so long that I’m decidedly rusty. Of course, I remember my native tongue, but it’s complicated.

Sometimes, I may drift or ramble on. Manners dictate that I apologise in advance for that.

I also repeat myself, which I do have a rather tedious habit of doing. Other times, I may be unlikable, although, on the other hand, you could even find me charming and loveable. My ego dictates that I believe I am interesting, and I do hope you will, too. (I’ve been told that I’m very vain at times, and this is probably true.)

It is up to you whether you read past this introduction. But if you do, I can guarantee a tale of betrayal, love, hate, murder and, most of all, life.

And life is the most intriguing story of all. Life’s biggest enigma is itself.

The beginning of my story starts in the year 11,425 BC when I was born. My Vampiric life began twenty-five years later in Kaltos, my long-forgotten country.

Chapter One.

I’ll introduce you to my country and its individuals.

Kaltos will never be seen again, nor will its like. It was beautiful, delightful, peaceful, and most of all enlightened, and I stress enlightened. My people were not barbarians who scrabbled in the mud, nor were we cavemen who ran from fire.

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