When the Grapes Start to Scream
I’m not crazy strong, I can’t run at the speed of sound, I don’t sparkle in the sunlight. I tell you this only because I don’t’ want you to simply recall some Hollywood conjured fashion model monstrosity when I tell you I’m a vampire.
When the Grapes start to Scream
By: Phoenix Raig
I don’t like using the word “vampire”. It’s so far removed from what it represents.
“This cup of tea is awesome”
“That dog is awesome”
“Your breath smells awesome”
If these things are all “awesome”, what word do you use to describe the slowly waxing vacancy that fills the eyes of someone having their life sapped away? If all those other things are vampires, then what word do you use to describe me?... I don’t like the word, but for ease of exposition this word has a proximal appeal.
I consider myself a good person. My rent is never late. I don’t play music too loudly. My daily mantra is basically just to let people live their lives! This of course changes when I kill them, but that’s only one person a day. The other 7 billion are free to live their lives to the “fullest”… However; few humans are capable of looking beyond their puss filled pitiful excuse for flesh to see a life that could be considered full… They walk at you; smiling as though the sky weren’t falling; convulsing and slapping their flabby bodies against the ground as a sorry excuse for locomotion. They’re so… revolting; a weak consciousness, desperately clinging to a putrescent pile of meat. Twitch and dance your meat pile in all the right ways and even YOU can be rich and successful! Even YOU can have a shell! That’s right! You can have your very own thick, hard shell to place around your meat! Once your meat is secure behind a shell then you’ve done it! You’re alive now. I don’t know what’s more disturbing; this physical state or the fact that they’re delusional enough to call this living.… Pathetic.
… My point is… they’re expendable. One human a day will not be missed in the grand scheme of the universe.
I don’t need you to love me, but, as I’ll be apprehended soon, I don’t want the humans to have another excuse for righteousness… for I fear that is something of far greater threat to the world and universe than my small withdraws from the donation tray. Hence this letter. Hence this confession of my passion. It’s for your own good.
The decision to kill.
“Decision”… that’s another word I detest, but it’s another word that is necessary to teach you, despite how much it reeks of denial. It’s another excuse for the humans to turn their faces from their truth. I make myself laugh a little seeing it written in front of me. Decisions… deciding… it’s just a concept people invented to put themselves on the same playing field as God; as though they were greater than their little meat prisons; as though they were greater than everything. This is the true purpose of God, a tool; a tool which allows humans to think they’re greater than they actually are; a mere human projection of how everyone sees themselves. Ask anyone if they’re equal to God and they will passionately deny it, however, watch a human for but a day, and the complex reveals itself. Everyone has a God, or god, capital ‘G’ lowercase ‘g’, whatever helps you sleep at night. Further, everyone sees themselves as being the closest thing to their respective god. Everyone’s god is better than everyone’s God, and yet God is better than all gods, and if God gets on a train in Baltimore going 70 miles an hour, how long would it-… I’m just kidding. Relax.
If everyone’s God is better than all other gods, and everyone is the closest thing to their respective god, then by extension, everyone is better than everything; everyone is a god. The world becomes a fucked up place when it’s full of gods… but I digress.
Decisions! To decide to do something is to imply that a person is capable of completely removing themselves from the equation to impartially choose a path. This, of course, is impossible for a human… for an animal. Everyone’s favorite “possession” is their body, their self. They dress it up, and jerk it around, dangling it in front of each other, desperate to have them noticed. They crave the affirmation that allows them to continue to believe that their most prized collectible is of some value.
If someone is incapable of leaving a trivial resource, such as money, out of the picture long enough to make a “decision” how on EARTH can someone claim to make a choice that didn’t, on some level, take into consideration their most precious cargo?
My dear nameless reader, if your weak mind is having trouble reviving this truth that you already know is there, it’s simply the matter of an experiment. One of the easiest experiments to recreate if you don’t mind my telling you how.
Take a human, starve it for a few days then drop it into a maze. Bring it to a fork and pump in the smell of fresh bread coming clearly from one of the paths. The human will convince itself that it chose to go the direction it went. In reality it simply twitched and convulsed in the direction of food. It’s survival at its lowest. Preservation of an identity. If the human allowed itself to believe that it went a direction due to instinct… can it call itself a god? No… it might actually have to face its true leech like nature.
It’s such beautiful irony! That this human conjured deception, which so readily convinces fools they’ve surpassed their most basic needs is equally as primal but screams significantly more of depravity than simply admitting that they’d followed a path due to a pleasant scent.
To elaborate a little further. If you’ll allow me to indulge. Humans created the concept of the animal kingdom, put themselves in it, and now proceed to convince themselves that they are outside of and better than said kingdom. What’s more, they then further tell themselves that this conviction is normal and healthy behavior.
Assign everything on the planet two little Latin words and soon everything becomes just that, small, insignificant, something already dead.
Take life to sustain yours if you want, but don’t insult that life by first cramming it into a container, that you built for it, for fear of recognizing it as your equal.
All the more reason to be proud of what I “decided” to be.
I don’t expect people to understand where I’m coming from, but this letter would be a waste if you little ones didn’t learn something. To provide some aid to you, my dear sweet reader, I offer a parable.
There once was a man named Phil. He was a lonely man. He didn’t get out much because he had no reason. He didn’t know what he wanted in life. Outside of satiating his basic animal needs he was lost. He had been living this way for quite some time, and for a while he actually believed himself happy. This type of life can allow someone to feign gratification, but slowly over time what once gave vigor and satisfaction turns to the life sapping poison that is routine.
One day, Phil awoke and looked around at his perfectly constructed life of monotony. He had no desire to interact with this life, but was panic stricken at the thought of deviation. He drifted through the day, abiding by the usual carefully measured prescription of stimulation and found himself at the supermarket. He was in the produce section collecting the standard apples and bananas when suddenly he found himself staring at the grapes; the usual lifeless stare of contemplation that he gave to all things as he debated bringing change into his life. He had never had a grape, and today, being particularly mundane, he craved flavor. He reached out, plucked a single red grape from the vine, and popped it into his mouth. His eyes widened, his mouth filled with a pleasant mixture of sugars and spit; his whole body tingled with life. He had found his calling. Few can say that their calling is so simple, but Phil knew that he had stumbled upon something significant. Grapes became a part of Phil’s every day, and without diminishing return; the grapes brought him happiness. He had energy in the mornings and he was excited to experience the day. This day would have grapes in it, so this day would be a good day.
After a few weeks of daily grape consumption, the same level of bliss was still present; this IS his calling after all, but something began to concern poor Phil. Every time Phil popped one of those plump little blimps of satisfaction into his mouth he could swear that he heard a small… ever so faint, yet ever so present, scream.
The pleasure persisted and he was able to convince himself that he was just hearing things, but slowly over time the scream grew louder and clearer. Eventually he began to hear words sprinkled in with the screaming. “Please don’t!”, “No! Stop!”, “Somebody HELP!”. The taste and feel of the grape continued to quench his thirst for life, but the unsettling screaming and pleading unnerved him. Now don’t mistake “unnerved” to mean “guilt” or “concern”. He simply found the screams disgusting. They were selfish and obnoxious to Phil. He looked down on the screams the same way someone watches a wet spider attempt to crawl out of a recently used sink. No sympathy; they simply stand there wishing the spider would slip so they can wash it away without touching it. They don’t want to reach out to the spider and help it. They just want it out of the way so they no longer have to think about it. They look at it, stomach churning, thinking, “How can this creature be so selfish? Doesn’t it know I want to use the sink? How dare it try to survive!” The flavor from the grape that followed the ever-increasing shrieks made the unpleasantness worth it. However, due to these recent developments he only ate grapes from the familiarity of his home. There he could listen to his favorite music in an attempt to drown out the cries.
He would go on to eat grapes until the day he eventually died.
You’re probably feeling a little confused, but don’t you worry my little one. Take some time before you continue reading if you need.
Now you might be thinking, ”Phil is a horrible human; a cruel and wretched person. Why didn’t he spare the grapes? Why didn’t he find a new hobby?” Your argument falls apart as soon as you suggest that Phil choose a different path. After all, if no harm was befalling the greater good, and Phil felt totally and entirely complete while doing this, how loud would the screaming have to be? What words of desperation would need to be shouted for him to convince himself that he should do otherwise?
If, try as he might, he could find nothing wrong with what he was doing, when faced with the abrupt end of such utter wholeness, how is Phil to act?
Every day I look in the mirror and the color has gone from my face. My body is weak. I crave life. I find a person, someone who is idle in their life. A fat roast unable to absorb the juices it sits in, determined to remain dry and flavorless inside. I get them alone one way or another, and I slide a knife between their third and fourth ribs. It doesn’t matter to me if they’re dry when I find them; like someone forgetting to turn the burner off before heading out on vacation, the vibrancy of life always returns moments before it leaves. Panic, pain, excitement, vitality; they all simultaneously take agency of the eyes, desperate to make up for missed appearances. I play my favorite music, and with my nose pressed to theirs, I watch as the passenger leaves its window seat. The color returns to my face. Who needs to suck iron rich fluids when you’re already having such a beautifully intimate experience? As if the act of drinking blood makes someone more vampiric.
I’m not crazy strong. I can’t run at the speed of sound. I don’t sparkle in the sunlight. Would things be more comfortable for you if I did?
Maybe this isn’t making much sense to you. Maybe it’s because I don’t quite fit into your box of monsters. Your diluted definitions can’t contain me, and it’s driving you mad. Well, my damp little spider, I’m just like you. I simply stopped being afraid to call myself what I really am. What all of us are. After all; as vampires you and I don’t have much of a choice.
How loud would your grape need to scream at you for you to be willing to end your favorite thing? When you can answer that question then you can judge me.