Chronicles Of An Ancient Vampire

My legal name where I currently reside in the city of Liege, Belgium, in the year 2010 A.D., is Gaspar Valessi, but that is not my real name. The name I was given some 30,000 years ago, when I was born in a Paleolithic settlement in the region that is now called Germany-- the name my father gave me shortly after I was voided, bloody and howling, from my mother's womb-- is Gon.

Over the eons, I have possessed many names, far too many names to list here in this autobiography. I'd wager that a chronological listing of all my former appellations would fill an entire hefty volume. Rest assured I do not intend to set every mundane event and frivolous fact from my unimaginably long life to paper. I'm afraid a mortal reader would never be able to finish the tome in a single human lifespan. Suffice it to say, of all my names, the original is the one I consider my "real" name. Over the millennia, it has become a secret name, a cherished keepsake that I have shared with a select few. You should feel flattered that I share it here with you.

I am Gon, son of Gan, grandson of Gil. Mortal father of Gan, Hun and Breyya, Gavid, Den and Leth. Grandfather of nations. Vampiric sire of legions.

Impressed?

No?

Then how about this:

I am the oldest extant vampire.

I know what you are thinking. "There's no such thing as vampires!"

Am I right?

Yes, of course.

That is what you're thinking right this very moment.

You are sitting in your armchair, or snuggled next to a slumbering mate in your luxurious modern bed, and you are rolling your eyes, maybe a little smirk on your lips. But eager, I hope, to set forth upon the long and winding road that is the chronicle of my immortal existence, refusing to harbor even the faintest suspicion that any of the landmarks you spy along the way might actually be real.

I hope you enjoy my life story, even if you think it nothing more than a bit of silly fantasy. Light reading before bedtime. For all I know, you might be sitting on the toilet with this book, alleviating your boredom while evacuating your bowels. It's probably the best my little tale deserves. I'm not exactly William Shakespeare. Pathetic, really, that the sum of my life, with all its endless nights of exotic experiences, ultimately reads like a cheap paperback thriller.

What do you call them?

Oh, yes. Dime store pulps.

Is it pretentious of me to aspire to such greatness? The Black Bat, Fu Manchu, Conan the Barbarian... and yours truly, Gon the Vampire.

Yes, I think that might be a bit of a stretch for me.

I'm no hero. More of a villain, actually. And not even a very evil one, I confess. I have no desire to inflict pain or misery on the innocent, no aspirations for world domination. At best, you could say that I am a middle of the road, average kind of villain. I'm little more than a victim myself. A victim of circumstance, of my appetite for mortal blood.

I assure you, however, that vampires are very real. Though we may not be quite what you imagine, though our attributes and the source of our preternatural abilities may not quite conform to the myths established by your popular mass media, we are as real as night and day, man and beast, heaven and earth.

Although there is no way for me to know my exact age—I was ancient when humans first tracked the lunar cycle on cave walls-- I estimate my age to be approximately 30,000 years…