I Do Not Allow Fan-fiction. The Characters

Get Thee Behind Me, Tragedy.

The Fans, The Vampire Groupies, Love The Idea Of This Androgynous, Preternatural Figure Stalking The Night, And Craving Aesthetic Pleasure Just As He Craves Blood, Wearing Only The Best Velvet Clothes, And Savoring Red Roses.

… In The Relentless And Meaningless Manner One Searches For Something In A Nightmare, Coming On Doors That Won’t Open Or Drawers That Won’t Shut, Struggling Over And Over Against The Same Meaningless Thing, Not Knowing Why The Effort Seems So Desperate, Why The Sudden Sight Of A Chair With A Shawl Thrown Over It Inspires The Mind With Horror.

Nothing In All The World Is So Nonsensical And Contradictory, Save Mortals, That Is, Who Live In The Grip Of The Superstitions Of The Past.

My Own Funeral, I'd Like To Be Laid Out In A Coffin In My Own House. I Would Like My Coffin To Be Put In The Double Parlor, And I Would Like All The Flowers To Be White.