While some may argue that the vampire does not exist (and rightly so), there are some hints that they could be real. Here is a letter sent to a Washington
Dear Stephenie,
I hope this letter finds you in good health and happy spirits. I'm sure you get correspondences like these all the time so if you're reading this then I've succeeded to catch your eye. Your Twilight novels certainly caught the eye of young readers (and lonely women) the worldwide. I've read all four of the books (even the novella about Bree Tanner). I do admit that you have a flair for the written word and try as I might I could not put down the novels. But, please realize that this letter is not intended to be complimentary.
You see, the world you've created besmirches the reputation of the vampire. Long ago, we were feared creatures. Peasants would perform the most outlandish rituals to ward off our kind. They'd take a pure white horse and run it around a graveyard in an attempt to locate our coffins (which is laughable because any self-respecting vampire would never sleep beneath the ground). They thought that a wooden stake through the heart would end our immortal existence. Crosses, garlic, mirrors and holy water were also weapons of choice by the simpletons.
Once in a while, they'd get something right such as our fascination with patterns and puzzles. Our obsession with cleanliness is another facet of that fascination. Sunlight is no friend to my kind either. But, it would take a lethal dose to put down one of my kind.
I'm sure you've noticed that when I refer to vampires I say "we" and not "them". That's because I am a vampire. A very proud and old vampire who typically has a discerning taste when it comes to literature. Please understand I mean no ill will towards you, I'm just trying to state my case here.
Back to your work, I'm sure when you wrote the Twilight saga you never intended to make life difficult for my kind. I imagine you were attracted to the dark nature of the vampire and saw the tragically romantic side of the undead. If you had just written the stories and left them as that, I don't think I'd be writing this letter to you. But, Hollywood had to make your stories into an international phenomenon.
I will admit that even the movies are entertaining. Although I preferred Kristen Stewart when she was a little boy in that Jodi Foster movie. Panic Room I believe it was called. Anyway, with the appending release of Breaking Dawn I felt compelled to write this letter because, let's face it, the movies based on your books ruined everything for us.
If you're still reading, you probably wonder what I'm hinting at. I'll get to the point. Let me put this into terms that a human would understand. Are you familiar with how veal is prepared? You see, a calf is kept boxed up so that its meat stays tender and unused. It may sound cruel but it's considered a delicacy among your kind.
The same can be said for blood. We vampires are connoisseurs of the vital life fluid that allows us to survive the Undeath. You may not realize it but blood has its own flavor. Different regions, ethnicities, age and even sex affects the taste of the blood. It's true...and for the longest time we had a smorgasbord on hand.
But then you wrote your books...and the flavor changed. At first, we couldn't put a finger on it. The blood just seemed different. A bit bland might be the way to put it best. After some extensive research, we came to a conclusion.
My brethren have always had a theory that the major ingredient of truly excellent blood was emotion. Lust, cowardice, joy, anger...all of these influenced the flavor. Although I wouldn't say that those emotions made the best tasting blood. No, the truly delicious vintage was brewed with unadulterated fear. That's right. Fear makes the blood taste so ever sweet. My mouth is watering just thinking about such a draught.
However, after Twilight and the subsequent stories, the blood lost its luster. You single-handedly ruined the "crop" if you will. You made these young people (and lonely women) romanticize the vampire. No longer could we sweep into a room and listen to the musical screams of our intended victims. Now they practically embrace us (not to mention attempted sexual assault at times).
The blood tastes like a microwave dinner. It tastes like cabbage soup with no salt. I mean, a vampire can live on it but what's the point? I'm sure you've tasted a succulent steak and marveled at the flavor and the texture of the meat. Once you've tasted ambrosia, it's impossible to go back to simple bread and water. Am I right? Do you see where I'm coming from now?
Anyway, I do apologize for the rambling nature of this letter. I tend to let myself wander both in conversation and apparently with pen and paper. Here's what I'm asking on behalf of all of my kind...please stop writing. I think you've made enough money to easily retire to a remote area of the world (perhaps Forks, Washington
Show us for what we really are...predators. We are the lioness and you are the gazelle. Our savannah is the city streets and the rural villages of the world. We hide in the shadows waiting for one of you to pass by. We set snares as elaborate as any clever spider. Fear is our cloak and it is most definitely the spice of our preferred food.
With that in mind, I hope you make an educated choice while considering the future of your writing career. Remember your pen impacts whether we eat bologna on plain white bread or filet mignon with a nice cognac. Which would you choose to eat? I think the answer is obvious.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Adamere Thorne
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