(Jason Corley)

Everything you read in this book is a lie except these few pages. You
are wasting your time if you are looking for anything more than the
ramblings of madmen when you look elsewhere. Those words are no more the
wisdom of Malkav than they are the last will and testament of Abel.

The true story of the creation of vampires is very similar to the
Biblical story, with the exception that Caine was not made into a vampire
for killing Abel. He was made into a vampire because he made a
terrifying change in reality. He brought death to a place where death
had never been known before, and the forces of paradox branded him
forever. It wasn`t some metaphysical entity that cursed him—it was the
forces of nature, pure and simple.

The true story of the history of vampires is extremely simple: it is the
story of conflict between the godlike vampires of the Second Generation.
Their hatred for each other does not stem from a dwindling food source or
a directive from Caine or even insanity. There is no insanity. No, it
is simply jealousy that continually pushes them at each other`s throats.
Their names? Who cares? Names are nothing to them. They need no handle
to push onto their identity.

The true story of the end of the world is also very simple: the world is
going to end when the planet slides out of it`s orbit several million
years from now and everyone will die from the climactic changes. There
exists a possibility, thankfully more remote now than it used to be, that
the population of the world will pound itself out of existence with
weapons of mass destruction. Other than that, the end of the world is
merely a symbol of death—vampires fear Gehenna because death no longer
seems nearly so uncertain.

This is the truth. This is the only truth in this book. Ignore the rest.

If you have read this far, you have read all the truth there is. The
angels told me, and I tell you.

Burn this page.


(Jason Corley)

Dear God,

It`s me again. I wanted to start this out with `You don`t know
me…` but of course you do. You know everything and made everything and
all that stuff. Well, you already knew that part.
It`s tough being your kid sometimes. It`s really hard. Yeah!
I`m your fifteenth-great-granddaughter. You remember Caine? What am I
saying? Of course you remember.
Anyways, it`s kind of dumb to give you all this background when
you already know everything, so I`ll just dive right in with my question
and then shut up:
How come you did all this instead of nothing at all? I mean, I
can see how much you like nothing whenever I look up into the sky or into
that silvery thing they say is me. I like nothing, too. I like keeping
my eyes closed, but I don`t like sleeping, because that fills nothing up
with dreams which can`t hurt you. Did you know that? Oh, yeah, I guess
you did. I wish I did.
They say this silvery thing is me. I don`t see the resemblance,
do you? But why would they lie to me? They say they are my friends, but
all I see is more stuff. Where`s the nothing? Besides inside their
eyes, that little circle.
Hey! I`ve got an idea! No, it`s a safety pin. Maybe if my eyes
stayed shut all the time, you would understand my question about why it
might be better just to have nothing. I`ll try it.
Well, I guess that is all for now. I`ll sign off and try our new
Yours Tru


(Jason Corley)

I know how to add. I know how to subtract. I know how to write my
name. I know how to eat without spilling much. I know how to multiply
without spilling much. I know how to divide. I know how to write my
name. I know how to read my name. I know how to talk. I know how to
listen. I know how to sing. I know how to play music on a stereo. I
know how to touch people. I know how to be touched. I know what money
is. I know what people will do for it. I know what my name is. I know
what my face looks like. I know what the dark looks like. I know what
the light looks like. I know what a kiss is. I know what love is. I
know what love is. I know what love is. I know what love is.

And you dare to call me insane. You dare. You.


First, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth. Last.
Birth, childhood, adolescence, maturity, decline, senility, death,
Ignorance, indifference, interest, friendship, lust, love, interest,
apathy, annoyance, hatred, ignorance.
Front cover, title page, table of contents, introduction, chapter one,
chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, epilogue,
bibliography, index, back cover.
Open. Closed. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. Open. Closed.
Never heard of it. Oh, that`s interesting. Useful, that. A little
overused, don`t you think? Everyone knows that. No, I don`t want it
anymore. Never liked it. Bor-ring!
Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance.
On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.
One. Two. One two three four. One. Two. One two three four.
Preseason. Regular season. Playoffs. Championship. Off-season.
Lie down. Get up. Walk around. Sit down. Get up. Walk around.
Lie down.
Sunset. Evening. Night. Midnight. Deep night. Early morning.
Sunrise. Morning. Day. Noon. Afternoon. Late afternoon. Sunset.
Do it now.


You are flying. It is not a dream, nor is it a hallucination. You fly
over your home. You see the rooftop, empty of any marking, but you know
it is your home, familiar and safe. Here, in the air, you feel that
powerful yearning, that desperate desire for home, the feeling of lying
alone and warm in the dark, and if you close your eyes halfway and
squint, you can feel that the warm breeze rising from the ground is your
blanket and the patchwork of light and dark below you is the glow of your
nightlight and the strange shadows it casts. This is your home, and it
makes you smile quietly, here in the air. You fly above the curving
streets. Above you are thousands of stars. The wind tugs playfully at
your clothes like a child or a lover craving your attention. The slowly
changing stoplights beat out a cadence and the soft roar of the highway
makes a slow, simple dance for you in the air. You are flying.

No you aren`t.

You can`t fly. The wind is cold and harsh and is nothing like a child or
a lover. There are no stars in the city. You have no home. Get out of
my sight.

Your kind makes me sick.


Don`t think that we don`t understand. We know them better than they know

Our enemies state that our existence is deleterious to the continued
survival of our kind, that our efforts and our goals consist of nothing
more than tired chicanery and stale air, that our words and actions are
empty and mocking, that our stratagems and plans run counter to the
serious and weighty conditions under which they and we execute the
remainder of our serious and weighty time here on Earth.

There are others who say that this attitude plays right into our hands,
since we understand that confusion and controversy attract attention.

We are not permitted to comment on the matter.

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