CHAPTER 2 — MALEVOLENT COMET

"Do you know on what temperature does a vampire burn?"

"About 451 degrees Fahrenheit."

"Oh, we're not papers." I was immediately shut down. Our eyes met, prompting him a cold sneer. "…Do you want to see for yourself?"

And—it was within such dare that lit these pages on fire.

Literally, Burning Man wouldn't be what it is—or would be, for you as a reader—for this snippet.

The 5th of October, I encountered a vampire. I could have walked away here and moved on, pressed on with life, and never speak of that one time I spoke with a vampire. Maybe I'll obsess over it until death, changing future track to that of Helsing's prestige. Utterly and completely with a different story to tell.

But, well, what transpired was otherwise different.

And—we are to tread into weird space.

What happens when a vampire decimate under the sun—has a finite variable, and in the end, it all trickles down to zero. Meaning death, the "utter and complete disappearance" kind, the black of all concepts, which warrants an entirely different string of cosmic fluke to be beaten. If was to die and choose an outcome, I prayed unironically, I would love to be transmigrated.

Three years ago, I was bitten by the vampire—thus becoming one.

Three weeks ago, the vampire who enthralled me and I had that conversation from above—on a lazy summer day as we ate watermelons at a random Japanese outback.

Three hours ago, I stepped into the light—on a contradicting sense of fear and curiosity.

I burned—as you'd imagine, it wasn't only warm nor gentle. As hostile as you'd envision, Mister Sun struck its merciless hand of justice. I clawed at the ground and ignited as I screamed at the top of my lungs. Skin rippling inwards, the fire eating underneath the heart and the brain until none remained but ash.

That was it.

Then.

Three minutes ago, I fell into the neverending expanse of what you'd call as the dumping ground of souls, and I have been falling ever since.

Well, not as quite as long as Reindeer Games.

The world tilted.

The air rippled like water, dense, like my soul was being pushed out.

My heartbeat echoed hollow, as though inversed, what pulsed was the turbulent skies.

And then—a hollow light from a black sun.

Or maybe, this was a black hole masquerading as a sun.

I was staring right at it without igniting nor feeling the ripple under the skin.

You'd lose your foothold, and it all topples down into being swallowed into the void. I dared to conclude there was nothing underneath only to I find myself breaking through shards of glasses compounding and shattering themselves again and again.

You'd imagine of a vampiric existence, the noble race, to grasp these aberrations as normal. So, I'd lose that periphery in a matter of seconds. To hell be damned, but I could bend over and unleash a grand technicolor puke, the kind of messy, abstract expressionist masterpiece Pollock might've painted if he worked with cafeteria leftovers instead of oils.

Let's censor the shrieking scream and take a chill over the screen.

It's a scene where I'm falling─and you'd likely be laughing at my misery. I mean, what's exciting with a straight up "Ah─!" like it's a precious plot device pushing the story forwards? But still, "Ah─!"

I could only wish the ground came soon so I would be a splatter.

The fall just kept going, stretching on like gravity itself had turned into a prank. My stomach was in my throat, my arms flapping like a chicken on steroids, but there was really nothing. None the end, just the definition of a free fall in its rawest, most literal yet.

"Okay, okay—wake up now, wake up now, wake up—!" I yelled at the void, but the wind swallowed everything.

Maybe it wasn't the wind.

I spun headfirst, then sideways, then backward, and the world spun with me. Forests looped in circles, rivers flowed into the sky, mountains dangled upside down like broken teeth. Every blink was a new impossible picture, each one worse than the last.

My chest hurt from screaming, but I couldn't stop. "God! Anybody! I didn't sign up for—this!"

And then, like someone hit pause, everything went quiet.

Time has stopped in the underworld—and we were the only ones who could move.

The silence was so sudden it rang in my skull.

That was when I saw him.

Someone was falling right beside me.

Not tumbling like me—falling straight, steady, like they were taking a calm elevator ride to hell. Cloth draped around him, untouched by gravity, and their face mangled.

Our eyes met, and I forgot how to breathe.

"Strange," he said, voice sharp and clear despite the nothing around us. "You are a fracture."

"What?!" My words came out cracked. "Who the hell are you? And why are you falling like you're in a cartoon?!"

His head tilted. "Oh, pardon me. The name's John."

That was an exhaustingly human name for someone who had the crackles of an old TV as a face.

"Okay…John? Give me a parachute," I shouted. "Or a ground. I'll take anything solid. I don't care if it's a pile of garbage—just get me out of this!"

"Man, you're asking for the wrong things," he said, almost worried as he pointed his finger to my body. "You're bleeding with fire."

"Huh?" I muttered, eyes to swerve down my arms.

Black lines burned across my veins.

Glowing with some sick light I hadn't realized was there—until now.

Black wasn't supposed to glimmer.

I gasped, jerking back like I could shake it off. "What—what is this?! What did you do to me?!"

John leaned aback, pointing at his chest in major disbelief. "Me? Oh, it's the first time we met, Mister."

"Don't blame me," John continued. "What happened to you anyway? Why did you call me here?"

What happened to me, well, yeah—I burned under daylight. Perhaps it was of the physiology of a vampire after reconstructing from smithereens? In any case, my brain clicked for the latter.

"I didn't call onto you," I barked, voice cracking halfway through.

Maybe I lost patience.

John tilted his head again. "But I'm what this place calls God. I don't know what definition you go by."

I swung at him, purely of irritation, but my fists tore through their body like mist. I couldn't retort to his claim, I just didn't believe insomuch that I glared. You can say it's the natural state of mankind to be triggered when someone declares themself: God.

Their form shattered into shards and reformed, untouchable.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

I didn't answer.

"…I have seen enough," he sighed in exasperation, like I'd only dialed the wrong number. "Looks like I don't have anything to do here. But I can give you want you want."

And then, he vanished.

Just as that, not a millisecond spared to see a reaction.

Alongside him, he took the silence away.

The wind came back with a roar, slamming into me harder than before, ripping the burning tears from my veins.

The ground appeared below—for once, the landscape stabilized into something remotely recognizable. You know, for once, I was about to feel relief, but something was missing from the request. Nerves unhinged, I twirled, twice, thrice, checking upon my back.

"Wait—don't leave me here!" I growled into the sky, even knowing that John, and the rest of this endless expanse, didn't care. "Where's my fucking parachute?"

As I thought, no one appeared.

"…Son of a gun."

I faced forwards, composed myself—which may have took more a mental preparation that expected. I might have been a little cunning, but I know beggars don't get to demand. Happiness was enough to attain at the presence of land.

"Oh, well, I'm a vampire…" Breathe once, twice, thrice. "Time to wreck some bones."