What is THE biggest challenge a vampire faces? What image do you conjure up as the most serious hurdle for the creatures of the night?
Surprisingly, it’s not one of the usual suspects that might immediately spring to mind.
1. The location of a discreet first-rate dentist (by referral only).
2. The fear of blowing the cautiously practiced closed-mouth smile or mysterious smirk to avoid fang exposure (nope, and COVID mask-wearing was a humongous boon).
3. The dearth of inviting necks of unwilling victims in dark alleys (naw, there are scads of careless falling-down drunks for easy prey).
4. The pretext of the carpenter’s just-delivered new coffin being a unique storage container (not problematic, those receiving adequate remuneration rarely ask questions to which they don’t want answers).
A lover of the night
I’ve often referred to myself as a vampire. I utterly adore the night. I always have. I begin coming alive at around 8 p.m.
There’s an exciting eeriness in the silence. The mysterious unknown. A haunting amidst the inky darkness. What lies out there that’s unseeable? Where are the other lovers of the night lurking outside?
Regardless of where I am in the world, the night is the same. Whether in Phoenix, Delhi, Denpasar, or Hua Hin, the ebony stillness entices with its protective, unobtrusive shield.
I often wander the streets alone in the wee hours and have never felt unsafe or fearful, even in unfamiliar cities around the world.
For those who swear by the transformative light of dawn meditations and walks amidst nature when nary a creature is stirring, my reply is: Poppycock, the night is where the real magic and mystery is. Feel the energy of stilted stillness.
Gaze at the glistening stars, the sliver of moon, the blackened sky, and the unknown galaxies. They’re far more enticingly entrancing than the brilliant sun and the evidence of daytime, aren’t they?
Locating favorite constellations. Remembering the story about Orion the Hunter. Fantasizing about being transported into the unknown as a passenger in a space capsule. Being blown away by the breathtaking Northern Lights. Awaiting the full moon. Wondering if there are really werewolves.
As a chronic life-long owl, my body has never functioned efficiently or productively until a certain hour. Add in that I’m a non-caffeine drinker who has always abhorred coffee; it takes two hours after awakening to feel human.
The witching hour may vary. But given my druthers, I agree with another friend, a kindred owl spirit, who says, “My ideal work day would be from 3 to 11 p.m.”
I’d not thought about it until reflecting upon her comment. That schedule would have been ideal for me, too. But, alas, in my chosen work-a-day world, the lark life was imposed.
Now, though, both retired and single, I am not required to abide by the rules or expectations of a husband, partner, employer, colleague, or any person or entity.
I am in seventh heaven.
I stay up late. And, since my recent Medium addiction — even much too late often— when vampires must return indoors at the break of dawn. My brain is still revving into the wee hours.
Not surprisingly, we owls tend to find each other despite the shaming larks who chastise us late risers as lazy sloths.
Myriad benefits exist for owls, we creatures of the night. A few include:
- No religious zealots ring the doorbell, spreading the word to convert you or handing out pamphlets.
- No political activists will be dropping by either to seek your vote.
- If you live in a building with shared laundry facilities, washers and dryers are empty.
- The lines at 24-hour fast food drive-thrus are short if you crave breakfast at 3 a.m.
- No one except you will be using the swimming pool at your complex.
The biggest problem
The only serious challenge this vampire has faced — believe it or not, is — wait for it: Shopping.
So utterly banal, is it not?
My phone went dead, and my charger was barely working. The screen indicated it would be fully charged in a mere twelve hours. Lovely.
Despite three other cords lying around, none were high-speed or functioning correctly either. Although the local Indomaret, the equivalent of a Circle K or 7-Eleven, may be open 24/7, no quality cables are available there. It needed to be purchased at a computer or specialty phone shop.
I also decided at 4 a.m. that certain-sized nails were needed to hang a picture. Those are found at the local hardware store, which definitely is not an all-night joint.
Then, there is the problem of finding basic sustenance. The street produce stands and local grocery aren’t servicing vampires after the regular lark hours. We all-nighters desire food at 3 and 4 a.m.
My favorite roller pen went dry. Only the quill goddesses know where the bloody other six recently purchased ones have migrated. Those are only available at the stationery shop.
Big city vampires
This is problematic for us night denizens residing in a small city on an island. Perhaps it’s a different story for those night owls in major metropolitan cities with 24-hour big box or drug stores selling everything from soup to drugs.
Rejoice, vampires, if you live in such a place.
I have not encountered an actual Bram Stoker-like night stalker.
Nevertheless, many believe they exist, including a perfectly reasonable, bright, educated American in Mexico. He claims to have been terrified years ago by coming upon a vampire in Europe. And vampire hunters, including that American chap, are convinced that thousands live secretly among us.
One of the brightest guys I know, who holds a bona fide research-based Ph.D. and approaches everything with scientific skepticism, has come to a simple conclusion in his later years:
“If somebody believes they have seen or experienced the inexplicable, I’m inclined to believe them. I’ve personally encountered too much of the unfathomable to discount any possibility.”
Someone asked me once about my beliefs. I assumed he was referring to religious or spiritual. I thought a bit and answered, “I believe in everything.”
It is nearing dawn here. This vampire must retire. 🧛♀️
About the Creator
I love thinking. I respect thinking. I respect thinkers. Writing, for me, is thinking on paper. I shall think here. My meanderings as a vagabond, seeker, and lifelong student. I'm deeply honored if you choose to read any of those thoughts.
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