Part Siks

Character-Driven Confessions on the Couch, A Psycho-Analysis Exploring a Fictive Realm

What do you think of when you write about the Vampire?

Nothing. To me, he is nothing but a corpse. He leaves his grave at night to drink the blood of the living by biting their necks with his sharp incisor teeth and licking it clean with his anticoagulant saliva. He is nothing but an undead leech, an annalid worm but surprisingly timeless, eternal, unfaltering, flawless in his own imperfection. He is a methuselan patriarch with an endless stream of victims, but no offspring to call his own. He is an immutable void, does nothing but drain.

How about his counterpart, the Bride?

She is his opposite. While he exist freely throughout and out of time's bounds, she is firmly fixed. She can only manifest on her wedding day, ironically that's everyday. She is the feeling of excitement and mystery, remoteness of everyday life because she exists in only that sentimental, idealized way. But maybe, yes, I feel she is shrouded, in that eerie way, by her wedding veil which is like a membrane attached to her immature fruiting body and will ultimately rupture, or should rupture if she wasn't trapped in time. While the Vampire sees time as an eternal void with meaning nor consequence, it is everything to her and is faced with a pink tinge in her face at all times.

How about the other characters, the Pink-Lipped Harlequin for instance?

Well, I don't know. I don't know how long I can keep this up. Is it relevant, didn't I destroy, resurrect and wiped them away again? I suppose the Harlequin is, was, a demon in a diamond-patterned costume. A tormentor, the one to tickle my vices. A forceful, fierce and skillful agitator of cruel acts. He represents reckless mischief. He is always mute, but by his amusing and variegated chicanery a waterfall of possibilities. Pink-lipped, for what would an evil spirit want with a young man? Fool him into acts of sexual desperation. Rash and extreme behaviour, wild and abundant. Whipped into flesh-driven hunts at night, sheered into a frenzied ravaging and despoiling of what should supposed to be values. Theoretically, because he never did get a full hold on me.

I think that's enough for now.

I think so too.