Anyways, it's amusing how my own protection only works to comfort and protect them. So I let them put the jacket on me and lock me up by myself in a lonely white cell. It's a new experience, I've never been in an asylum before. So I've decided to make the best of my time here.

But do they hold me against my will? I don't think so, but maybe I am crazy and this is just my way of accepting my situation; believing it's my choice. Perception is such a pesky thing. How is one to ever know what is the absolute truth? Or truthful in the slightest degree, for that matter? What I hold as the truth of my reality often makes no sense to anyone else. Am I wrong? Are they? Perception makes it impossible to ever know.

Did I also mention I'm a vampire? I'm a few thousand years old, oldest one around as far as I know, or, at least, that's what I've been told. Oh, silly me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is..., um, hmmm... I seem to have temporarily forgotten. I do that sometimes. Just a fact of life I've come to accept. I've forgotten so many things. It's a shame really, I know almost nothing beyond the last eighty years or so and I forget more as time goes on. I think that's why I've managed to stay alive, and, well, reasonably sane. I just forget the old stuff, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm not that old at all. But others insist I'm the oldest still alive because they knew me before. I just take their word for it. I have no idea who they are but I still believe them. Maybe megalomania is my problem too? I'm often thinking of my powers and how I seem to discover, or possibly rediscover, new ones all the time. I'd like to fancy myself one of (if not the most) the most powerful creatures still corporeal.

Ah, yes. Now I remember. My name is Sammael. Perhaps you've heard of me? Doesn't really matter though, I can assure you I'm a completely different person than whomever you've heard about. I've heard all kinds of stories about who I was, from a fallen angel to an extra-terrestrial. I kind of fancy the angel one though. A dark angel... Mayhap that is me? But it really makes no difference, if I was I've forgotten all about it.

The guards have come again. They still think I need food, though I haven't eaten at all in the three weeks I've been here. They come in and try to get me to eat, poor fools. The first few days I tried to explain why I wasn't hungry but they just nodded patiently and smiled until they were sure I was serious about not eating. Then they'd just leave and I'd hear their comments outside the door where they thought I was unable to listen. Some of them act very nice but I can hear the acid dripping from their tongues all the way through these foam walls. They made a mockery of me at first, but as the weeks go by, I believe they are becoming unsettled. They've never met true undead before, so have no idea what to do or think.

But I think three weeks is long enough to waste on a new experience. You only live once, right? There are so many things that I've decided to do. I'd like to leave here but I don't want to offend my keepers. They've actually been very kind to me, at least to my face. And I really wouldn't want to ruin this nice jacket they've provided me with. They didn't have to give it to me but they did. I just wish it wasn't so confining. Three weeks is awfully boring without use of your arms. Could drive a person over the edge.

The door is opening again. Strange, they usually only annoy me once a day about eating, or rather, not eating. Perhaps they are becoming truly concerned? A strange man walks in alone, which is doubly strange because they never come to see me alone. Kind of a strength in numbers thing. He's very tall, almost freakish, at about six feet eight inches I'd say. And incredibly skinny too, like a moving skeleton. I can't help myself as I smile when he ducks to enter through the door. He sees my smile and doesn't like it for some reason, I can tell by the disgusted scowl on his face. He closes the door and stands just in side it, completely blocking the small window in the door.

"So you've let them take you?" he whispers to me in a strange voice. His voice sounds very nice but he speaks to me as if I should know him. "Father, what shall we do with you? Your condition seems to worsen all the time. Almost like the Alzheimer's we see in the old humans."

"I'm sorry," I say. "Do I know you?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't remember me. I've been away for too many centuries. I'm one of your ken, your get. My name is Cyril. I'm one of the last ones you ever made and I'm several hundred years old. Do you remember any of your children?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Are they all nice people? I'd hate to think that I chose bad people, even if it was so long ago. But then, I suppose it doesn't really matter. Whoever I was then is dead, I'm sure. It's nice to meet you, Cyril. Now, what was it you wanted?" I asked politely.

"Gods, you drive me crazy!" he whispered frantically. "I want to get you out of here, that's what I want. Why is it that you always manage to get yourself into bizarre situations like these? Or maybe it's not that bizarre, after all, I'm pretty sure you are insane. Now just be quiet and do as I say before you make me like yourself." He began to walk towards me and suddenly I decided I didn't like him. He came at me with his hands held out and for some reason I panicked. I wasn't afraid of him, he didn't seem all that terribly powerful, but nonetheless, I was terrified. In a panic I reached out with my mind and he crumpled on the floor, gasping and clutching his stomach, which seemed to be giving off an acrid smoke. Then I touched my jacket with my mind; it flashed white-hot and crumbled to dust.

Regaining more control over myself, I stood up and brushed myself off. I realized I had hurt this person claiming to be my child and destroyed this gift they had given me and suddenly felt terribly ashamed of myself. But the man on the floor, Cyril, was beginning to heal and so I chose this opportune time to make my exit. I opened the door and dashed into the hall, almost falling over the body there. His throat was torn open and his white uniform was stained a dull red, reminding me of newly laid bricks. But I could no longer feel any life force radiating from the body, so I ignored it. I heard Cyril rising off the floor behind me and realized I must hurry. I decided to forego the more mundane traveling and closed my eyes, trying to recreate the front lawn of the institution from what I remembered three weeks ago. I opened my eyes and I was there.

I looked around and spotted the large gates that barred my way. I had marveled at their size and craftsmanship three weeks ago when I had been driven through them in the back of a wagon. They were superb, truly beautiful but somehow out of place, adorning this place where the insane dwelled. Their beauty became twisted, almost grotesque, as I realized that I did not like this place or this era. I decided I didn't want to be around the type of people who would lock me up for seeking a little excitement and joy in my rather short life. I walked toward the gates and lashed out with my mind again, throwing them open and quickly marching through.

There was suddenly a powerful wind picking up, tearing at my hair and clothes with a ferocity that could not be natural. I instantly suspected that Cyril had come after me, possibly hoping to either delay or stop me. I spun around, ready to incinerate him and found no one. The wind died down and I found myself standing alone on the cobblestones outside the gate, gazing back into an empty courtyard that had looked so beautiful so many days before.

As I stared I began to realize that I was no longer alone. There was a slight shimmer in the air in the center of the courtyard, and I could feel the power radiating off of it once I perceived its presence. It seemed that my perception of it gave it greater strength for it began to coalesce into a large black mass before my very eyes. I could feel it begin to nudge at my mind as it grew and the presence was familiar somehow. But I understood at once that this was a creature that I never wanted to meet face to face, its darkness would engulf me and everything I ever held dear, no matter how long forgotten.

It began reaching tendrils of its blackness towards me, beckoning me to come nearer. I could hear a soft whispering inside my skull, it comforted me, giving me a sense of completion. I realized I no longer had to continue on in my forgetful complacency. Nothing here held any interest for me, I longed for release from this horrific fleshy prison. I began to slowly walk toward his beckoning arms, finally feeling a sense of long-deserved peace wash over me. This would end my fears and anxieties. This was the perfect culmination of everything I had ever accomplished, this singular release from my torment.

I felt his black hand caress my cheek slightly, causing pleasure-pain from the coldness that wafted from its depths. I reached out to touch it, my fingertips becoming numb from the contact. But this only made me happy, for I longed for this release. I raised my arms to embrace him fully when a sudden scream stopped me.

"No!" Cyril yelled, bursting through the gate. The cloud instantly coiled in on itself, enlarging to a solid black sphere for its own protection. He ran towards me, as I stood there staring at him with a puzzled look on my face, unsure as to why he was so panicked. He rushed forward and grasped me by the upper arms, apparently hoping to move me somehow. But I was still unsure as to what was happening and he was unable to move me in the slightest. He began pleading with me, telling me to hurry and flee this accursed creature. But the creature only brought me comfort while this creature before me brought only confusion. I raised my arms suddenly, causing Cyril to slam into the wall several yards away and the black creature to drift several feet away.

Sensing my weakness, the cloud began to slowly advance, the content feeling beginning to seep into the far corners of my mind. I stood there, waiting for him to reach me and bring the joy that only he could. He began unrolling his tendrils toward me again and I once again felt the pleasant waves of cold radiating from his core.

Cyril began to get up again, obviously in pain but needing to stop what was about to happen. He rose to his feet with a grunt, and began to limp toward the center of the cloud. His body was healing before my eyes (if I had been looking) but it still caused him great pain; I had done a considerable amount of damage to him. As he came within a few feet of the floating monstrosity he raised his hands, palms together, fingers splayed, held about two inches apart. As he concentrated on the space between his palms, his pace slowed and my keen ears began to pick up a low growl coming from the back of his throat. That growl broke my trance, allowing me to look over at him. A small spark of light had begun to grow between his palms, and was rapidly growing, becoming a small fireball consisting of blue and white light swirling around the reddish core.

Sensing that something was wrong, the creature picked up its speed, and began to throw out a large number of tentacles that wavered in the air, performing some obscene gesture that made me sick to my stomach. I began to slowly backup, unsure of what to do. My mind was still clouded from this creature's enthrallment. One of his tentacles swept past my face, causing severe pain from the coldness radiating off of him. I gasped at the sudden agony that disappeared almost immediately and lashed out reflexively. The cloud burst into flame and the flames quickly traveled down his tentacles. The beast didn't seem to notice, and I would not have even known he was on fire except that the phenomenally cold tentacles began waving in a faster, more frantic manner. One brushed my face and I fell backwards, shocked from the feeling of frostbite and scalding happening at the same time.

Cyril stepped up to the cloud, hands out and still growling. The growl he emitted seemed to resonate inside my skull, rebounding and building to a deafening roar. I yelled, grasping the sides of my head and stumbled away from the source of the noise. Cyril spoke a word I'd never heard before and the blue-white fire burst apart, encircling his hands. He suddenly screamed, and thrust his hands into the center of the cloud. The creature burst into a dark violet flame and began to shrivel. Its tentacles began falling off and it writhed on Cyril's hands, trying to dislodge them. With its few remaining tentacles it grasped Cyril around the back, holding him tight and pulling him towards the creature's center. I could see frost form instantly on Cyril's clothes and his limbs gained an unnatural stiffness that appeared to be because they were frozen solid.

Cyril suddenly screamed again, trying to withdraw his hands and back away, but the creature's tentacles held him firmly. He threw his head back and his neck froze at that moment, with his head to the evening sky, growling in pain. Large chunks of the creature began falling to the ground in an oily puddle that coated Cyril's boots. As the creature died, I felt it in my mind, prying at the hazy barrier of amnesia that blocked my past from me. His mind sharpened for an instant, like a silver dagger before my vampiric consciousness, and shredded that obstacle.

I threw my head back, grabbing my head in both hands, and screamed over and over again. Physical pain was nothing compared to over ten thousand years of memories rushing into your consciousness with the clarity of that only a vampire will ever truly understand. I screamed again and again into the night sky as I remembered everyone I had ever wronged, ever loved, ever known stared at me from my mind's eye. The whispers of centuries flooded my mind and I screamed as the blackness covered and, finally, silenced me.