4.08 - Live in Fear


For the last week I’ve been waiting for the moment when Kareem decides I know too much. He keeps walking around as if nothing is wrong. On the contrary, it’s almost as if he’s relieved. He acts as if we’re childhood friends. He talks more, even coming to the second floor of the house just to check on me. At least he claims he’s checking on me, in reality, I think he’s stalking me. He can kill me whenever he’s ready but he’s choosing the perfect time. I’m not without my own preparations. I’ve been gathering my own supplies in case we’re forced into a confrontation. I keep a vial of holy water in my left pocket and a stake in my right pocket. The scent from the braided garlic necklace I’ve taken to wearing no longer bothers me. He hasn’t shown any signs that it bothers him either, but he’s a killer, a serial killer. Aren’t serial killers sociopaths? He wouldn’t know how to display that my new charms are bothering him. He’d only attempt to get closer in an attempt to remove them from me.

I make my way down the stairs, on the toes of my feet, trying not to make a sound as he watches a movie in the living room. I don’t want him to hear me, but he throws a hand into the air to wave at me, letting me know that I’ve been noticed. I drop the stealth and quickly make it to the kitchen. I simply want to prepare a meal for myself, something fast and easy. I think there’s some sausage in the fridge. A few peppers, some onions and potatoes, that’ll work.

“Hey, what are you making,” Kareem enters the kitchen, having paused his movie.

I do the only sensible thing I can to escape, I pour a bag of rice onto the floor and wait for him to react, but he doesn’t do anything. He just laughs and looks at me strangely.

“Aren’t you going to count the grains of rice,” I ask.

“Why would I do that,” Kareem seems confused.

“Vampires, you’re obsessed with counting.”

“I think you have me mixed up with the guy from Sesame Street. My math skills are terrible, even counting money trips me up sometimes,”

“Well, stay back, I’ve got garlic, and Holy water.”

“I’m only a half vampire, that stuff isn’t going to work. The smell of garlic is just going to really annoy me but it’s not dangerous.”

“That’s what you’d say just to keep me away.”

Kareem tries to force a smile, and struggles. He still hasn’t figured out how to do it on command. I’ve only seen a real smile from him when he’s watching a movie he finds enjoyable. Nothing else has managed to remove the vacant look from his face. For now, he’s trying a large smile that shows all his teeth, struggling to keep his upper lip from snagging on his teeth. He wouldn’t have that problem if his lips weren’t so dry. I’m sure he thinks it’s flattering but the entire situation reads like an H.P. Lovecraft novel for me. His smile isn’t comforting, I can only think of some kind of small demonic creature crawling free from his mouth, shedding the skin known as Kareem.

I’m paralyzed with fear as he approaches me, still smiling. My body stiffens as he places a hand on my shoulder. His other hand reaches below my shirt, almost as if it were slow motion. His hands aren’t cold, but they aren’t warm either, the smooth skin of his palm climbs my chest before a feel a feint scratch while his hand grips the garlic I had hidden beneath my sweater.  

When I come to my senses he’s struggling to peel a piece of the garlic in front of me. I watch silently as he finally manages to remove the peel from a clove by rubbing it in his palms. He tosses the rest of the garlic onto the counter and places the clove on his tongue. I watch and as he winces and chews the garlic, occasionally opening his mouth wide for me to see. When he’s finished and sure I witnessed the whole thing he rushes to the fridge and downs half a gallon of orange juice.

“Told you, that stuff doesn’t work on me,” he gloats as his face still winces from the garlic.

“What about,” I fumble on the words, “I’ve got holy water. That’ll stop you.”

He closes his eyes and spreads his arms as if he were being crucified. He motions for me to splash him with the holy water. I hesitate as I pull it from my pocket and contemplate what might happen. If I splash this water on him, he might be disfigured or killed. But I’d rather do it now and prevent an issue from arising later when it doesn’t work. I strengthen my resolve to splash the water on him. He doesn’t melt, scream or anything like that. In fact, he does nothing, but stand there, only slightly wet. When he does open his eyes, he grabs my wrist and removes the bottle from my hand before drinking it in two big gulps.

“That was holy water,” my voice shakes as the words exit my mouth.

“If you’re going to use holy water, it needs to be some super blessed stuff. Someone that’s a true believer.”

“I got that from a preacher.”

“You probably paid $29.99 and called his hotline too? He hustled you. Anything else you want to try?”

“I’ve got a stake.”

“Yeah, I’m not taking any risks with that one. I haven’t tried to kill you, so how about you don’t try to kill me,” he waits for an answer but I can’t give him one. “Are we cool or not,” I sense the irritation in his voice.

I’d be irritated too if I had a mouth full of garlic, rice stuck to my feet and a face full of tap water, “so we’re cool.”

“Good, what are you making for dinner?”

“Sausage with some peppers and onion.”

“It would go nice with that rice you make, the kind with the tomatoes,” he changes the menu.

“Do you mind floor rice? It’ll be cleaned and cooked.”

“I don’t mind, we can watch a movie while we eat.”

“Okay,” is this his way of a peace offering? It would be best if I accepted. I’d rather have dinner with a murderer than be dinner for one.

He helps me scoop up the rice before scurrying off to the basement. I’m sure he’s looking for a movie. I’ll just cook, carefully. He rarely eats so I need this to be perfect, if I just keep him satisfied, he won’t eat me. By the time he’s returned from the basement I’ve gotten the food cooked, plated and sitting on the coffee table. Almost as if he heard me, he probably did, he appears with a thumb drive and loads up a movie.  

It's an old movie called Coffy, the kind of cocaine fueled films of the 70s that my father would have seen in his youth. Filled to the brim with the things that he still preaches against today. The film stars a young Pam Grier, working as a nurse. In her spare time, she tracks down the people leading the drug ring that turned her sister into a heroin addict. She infiltrates the organization by posing as a prostitute and from there the film is filled with murder, sex and general mayhem. I’m not sure if he purposely chose to show me a film filled with prostitution and murder to send a message to me, or he generally enjoys the movie. Since I found the body, he’s been more talkative, but never this much. He’s constantly pausing the movie to give me different trivia. Coffy wasn’t successful in the theatres, so they turned the planned sequel into Foxy Brown. I didn’t see him as a smart person, but he’s pointing out different film techniques that he finds interesting as if he were a genius.  

I can’t understand him. Everything he does seems as a way to deliberately threaten me; but the way he touched me earlier. Is he interested in me romantically? He’s kind of cute, I might consider it, despite the fact that he’s a serial killer. Then again, I could be imagining things because I haven’t been sleeping well. Almost eighty percent of the population would suffer hallucinations if they’ve become sleep deprived. Falling in lust with a serial killer is how Herb Baumeister got his victims. Right now, I’m suffering through incremental sleep deprivation, as well as a healthy dose of paranoia and immediate post-traumatic stress to only exacerbate the situation.

I’ve grown accustomed to hiding myself amongst others; shrinking who I am to avoid offending anyone. I thought I sensed the same thing in him, but I don’t even see cracks of anyone else below the surface. Is he really this ambiguous about everything except movies? I almost feel like he’d be scarier if he was the classic depiction of a vampire. Paper thin white skin, pointy fangs, hissing and maybe even a tuxedo with matching cape ensemble. Instead, he dresses similar to me, the language he uses is the same as mine, and he eats the same food as me. He’s just a normal person, but there’s a monster lurking beneath the flesh and I can’t see it. I’ve been told the monster is there, I’ve seen the monster’s work. Still, all I’ve seen is a person who seems to be somewhat awkward and doesn’t manage emotions well. But, I haven’t seen the monster, and that’s what scares me the most.

4.07 - Body Exhibit


I came into this shed to cut grass. The body was already there. I didn’t touch anything. My fingerprints aren’t on that body, my DNA isn’t anywhere beyond the door. No, I touched the body. I turned it over to see if it was real. Does that make me an accessory to murder? Did Kareem murder this person? I’m living with a serial killer. Why is she all pale like that? How long has she been here? Did he tell me to cut the grass, so I’d find her body? Does he want to be caught? Where is he right now? I’ve been staring at this body since before the sun went down and I don’t have any answers.

Lord, please help me. Guide me through this. Deliver me from Evil, protect me and bathe me in your righteous light. Protect me from evil Lord, drive those forces that would harm me from this place and give me the strength to move forward.

“You do that killer?”

“What the fuck,” I jump away in a panic but Kareem is gripping my hand so I can’t go far.

“Real jumpy for a killer.”

“I’m not a killer, you did this.”

“Did you see my do it?”

“Who else could have done it,” I can’t pull away, he’s much stronger than he looks.

“We should go inside and talk.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“If you’re smart, you will.”

“Help,” I scream at the top of my lungs.

Before I can scream again Kareem has contorted our bodies. Now he’s standing behind me with and arm around my throat, and my own arm pinned behind my back. He pushes me through the back door and into the house. His grip is too strong, I’ve been held like this before, but I can’t get any air no matter how hard I fight back. He’s not even breaking a sweat as I jam my feet in the ground and fight back. I’m bigger than him, I should be stronger too, but this is effortless on his part. I slam the back of my head into his face as hard as possible hoping to catch him off guard, and he just laughs as he tosses me to the ground in the living room. I try to crawl away but he just steps on my ankle and stares down at me.

“Can you stop running? I’m not going to hurt you,” Kareem just seems annoyed with this.

“There’s a body in the garage.”

“I killed her.”

I try to stand and run as he takes his foot off my ankle; I don’t see him move but he’s in front of me now. I throw a punch at his face and he doesn’t budge, another and nothing. Punch after punch and he’s unfazed. My hands are pounding but he’s still nothing more than annoyed with me. I try to push past him, and he only pushes me to the ground again. Before I can move his knee is digging into my chest and he’s staring emotionlessly into my eyes. I’m fighting for my life, and he’s got the same cold look he’s had ever since I met him. Lord, why did you lead me here?

“I can do whatever I want to you, and you can’t do anything about it. But I don’t want to hurt you. Please, stop fighting, and listen, before I change my mind.”

“What do you want,” I asked, surprised by the terror in my own voice.

“To order pizza and watch Sorry to Bother You. Instead, I’m stuck holding you down because you keep trying to run away when I just want to talk.”

“If I talk, will you let me go?”

“Yeah, and then you can run off to the cops or whatever you want.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll let you ask the first question,” he removes his knee from my chest.

Kareem takes a seat on the couch, legs spread and hands on his knees just staring down at me. His lack of facial expression is what bothers me. He’s just staring, not making any motions, if it wasn’t for his subtle breaths, I might think he was a sculpture. The eyes are the window to the soul, and I can never see into his, they’re always empty. He doesn’t have a soul, he’s a monster. That’s how he could kill so easily and act as if this was a normal thing. I do have questions; I know he’ll just lie, but if playing his game keeps me alive, I have to play. Lord, bless my tongue.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean, are you a serial killer? Why did you kill her?”

“Oh,” Kareem pauses and furls his eyebrows in the first sign of emotion I’ve seen from him. “I guess I am a serial killer. I never thought of it like that, I just thought of it as survival.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’s just making me more confused.

“Hey, I’m a vampire.”

“What?”

“Vampire. I drink blood.”

“What?”

“I’m a vampire.”

“What”

“If you say what again, I’ll rip your arm off because I know that you know what a vampire is.”

“Wh- How?”

“Dad was a vampire. The same way human babies are born.”

“Vampires aren’t real.”

“You believe in God right? You’re always going on and on.”

“God has nothing to do with this.”

“God has everything to do with this. You can’t believe in vampires because you’ve never seen one before, but you can believe in God? You pray to God three or four times a day. I’ve heard you. But never once, has God answered you. Meanwhile, a whole ass vampire is looking you in the eyes.”

“Stop.”

“What do I need to do to prove it? You want me to bite you? You want to see me drink blood? Is it the violence that excites you? Is that why you didn’t call the police right away?”

“You’re an abomination, an afront to God.”

“I hate that word, abomination. I used to be called that all the time. Might be the biggest word I know. Doesn’t your Bible say you’re an abomination? You do all kinds of things your God tells you not to. You know when you masturbate, I can hear it right? You shouldn’t be watching porn, sometimes, it’s even gay porn and I know that’s a big no no. Don’t deny it either, I can smell it too, every time you finish. Heightened senses and all that. I suppose we’re both abominations according to that book of yours.”

“You’re sick.”

“Vampirism is indeed an illness.”

“You’re insane.”

“I wish I was insane, then, this wouldn’t be my life.”  

I can’t tell if he’s lying or not. I don’t know if all this is a joke. He’s doing nothing to help remedy the situation. Everything he says can be sarcasm or the truth and he just stares at me. How can he expect me to be calm and rational when there’s a dead body in the shed? He’s sitting there like a sociopath, unmoved by the entire situation. My God would not forsake me, even if I don’t know what to say he’ll guide my words, my actions. This is indeed the Valley of The Shadow of Death, and I am walking through. I know God will protect me, but the fear has overwhelmed me. My spirit is unbreakable, but at the end of the day I am just a man made of flesh and this body can be broken.

“You know what? You should go to the cops. There’s a dead body, right where we left it. There’re bite marks on the thigh that will match my teeth. A murder has been committed, and I left evidence,” Kareem gets off the couch and crouches down so close I can feel his breath on my lips as he speaks. “There are people to take care of the body for a small fee and they’ll get it done before the cops arrive. Even if the cops do come, it doesn’t take much for me to pack up and just start a new life somewhere else. I don’t have any friends, or family that will miss me. I can watch movies, wherever I want. But you, a new life won’t be so easy. Not a lot of people are dying to live with a chronic masturbator who reads The Bible out loud and can barely afford to pay anthing on the rent. You look sticky and broke right now. You should pray about that. But don’t worry, you’ll always have me. I’ll always find you, wherever you go, and I will punish you. The way that book tells you Satan is waiting below to torture you for your sins in death, I’ll be waiting around every corner in life,” Kareem pauses and squeezes my face with a painful grip. “The other option is you can mind your business and go on with your life as if nothing happened. I don’t really care as long as you leave me alone.”

I just keep sitting on the floor long after he leaves. I’m expecting him to rush back and kill me, but he never comes. The sun has already set when I get off the floor. He doesn’t stop me when I walk out the back door. The body is already gone, and I never heard him leave the house. There must have been some truth to what he was saying. No, this is a lie, this is all nonsense. 

4.06 - Ganja nad Hess


Professor Tiana Hicks, divorced, no children. Drives a 2015 Impala and lives alone. She’s been teaching here for seven years; teaches remedial algebra, introductory theater and film study. I started coming to this class because I was stalking her. She was going to be a victim; back when I was breaking in homes instead of just luring women to me with sex. She was saved because I found her film class really interesting. I stopped following her and started coming to class instead. She brought in so many different films to watch from all over the world. Films with so many different places I could never go, languages I could never learn, people I could never be and tragic stories that weren’t my own life for once. That’s where my love of movies came from; I’m forever grateful of her because of that.  

I’ll never tell her, but I’ll always show up to class and even participate when discussion is quiet. I’m not a student here, but she doesn’t check attendance. All of the homework and tests are online, so I don’t have to turn those in either. In a class of 128 people I’m free to just drift in and out as I please without anyone bothering me. Some people have TV shows they never miss, I have this class. Before coming here, I had never realized that people could have such different ideas on the meaning or even endings of film. I know people are all different, but I didn’t know, don’t know, a lot of other people. The people I do know don’t discuss personal hobbies or interests. My conversations are no different than paying for gas or buying groceries. I have the syllabus, I could just see what movies she picked out for the semester, but I come, I take notes. I re-watch the films at home if someone says something that catches my attention. I didn’t even get to finish grade school and now I’m happy to go to a college class twice a week for two hours at a time.

Tonight, we’re watching and discussing Spike Lee’s Da Sweet Blood of Jesus. I’ve already seen it, and I don’t hate it. The film is a remake of Ganja & Hess, one of my favorite films of all time. I really hope we watch the original version, the Bill Gunn cut, not any of the theatrical versions they put out. Hess is turned into a vampire and survives by murdering prostitutes for their blood. The first time I saw the film, I hated it, but that’s where I got the idea to go after prostitutes and women at clubs. By the time anyone asked questions, it would be too late. Ganja comes to find her husband, and he’s dead, stuffed in the freezer. She still falls in love with Hess, kind of. Then she becomes a vampire too. He teaches her how to survive and then things go wrong as they tend to.  

Everyone understands that the film is about addiction. Every interview and review has repeated the thought over and over again. But, I’m a vampire, a Black vampire, I just view the film differently. I understand the alienation Hess faces from the very start. He’s rich, smart and at the top of his career. Still, his white coworkers hate him and he can’t seem to find anything in common with them during the party he throws. No matter what he does, he can never find a place to really be accepted.

It’s funny really; people always pick up on the addiction but not the way they become addicted. Hess is stabbed, forced into addiction by someone who dies right after. It’s like, an addict forces you to partake and then they overdose. He’s addicted, lost in the world, no guidance, no way to get free. The church kills his addiction, but at the cost of himself.  

Then there’s Ganja, she jumped right at the addiction. She had so many chances to run, but she kept chasing it. She could have, should have ran when she found her husband dead. Instead she became obsessed with it. She seemed like she cared about Hess, but she never did. She cared about the lifestyle first. He was rich, had the life her husband promised her. She didn’t care that he was out hunting or left her alone in the mansion. It was what she wanted. She didn’t care that he worked for all of that, she only saw the addiction. If he could be successful with the addiction, it would make her successful as well. Hess even tried to warn her at one point, she didn’t care. His warnings meant nothing. It was like watching Joe Clark tell Sams to jump and kill himself, but instead of promising to stay clean, he jumped. She didn’t just jump, she dove in head first, throwing away her past life for a chance at this. She killed her past, the same as Hess did; she just never cared to get it back. That’s what addiction does to people; they lose parts of themselves or willingly throw them away.  

The same can be said for vampirism, I guess. You either turn, and have to change everything you know or you willingly throw it all away to turn. But it isn't always that simple. I never had a life to throw away or be taken away. I was born like this, always an addict with no way to cure myself. Always dependent on blood, fresh blood. There’s no other way for me to live and I was never given the option. Am I a bad person if Ganja pisses me off?

She never noticed that Hess was in pain. She never noticed that he was a social outcast, looking for connections but could never seem to find them. She never missed her husband, but he never had a wife to miss. Then when she did marry Hess, she still didn’t care about what he was going through. He was struggling trying to remove his ties to the church. Hess knew the church would kill what he had become, but there was nothing to go back to. He was visibly struggling with his own existence and she brushed it off for some new clothes and a big house. The life she loved so much, that she chose, wasn’t chosen for him. He sat there dying and she seemed emotionless, almost as if she felt he was stupid. She didn’t even mourn his death. He was suffering through trauma placed on his shoulders. He wasn’t suffering in silence, but everybody ignored his screams. He kept calling out for help and nobody ever came.

I was the same way. I used to scream until my throat burned and my chest hurt. Nobody would ever come to help me. I’d be punished instead, more pain. I didn’t even know the words to explain what I was dealing with and I was being punished. I just wanted to live and I couldn’t even figure out how. Sometimes I wonder if Hess had the right idea when he just decided to kill himself. There was no way for him to help himself and nobody was willing to help him. It makes sense, to end the pain when there’s no solution in sight.

It’s a film about addiction, but also about if you can accept yourself. Hess couldn’t accept himself, he went from being a top archeologist to hiring prostitutes to murder them. Ganja accepted herself, and even if I don’t like the way she did it, I made the same choice. When I got a chance to be free, I didn’t look back. I don’t live the rich and fancy life that Ganja did at the end of the film.

“Vampires, they aren’t real,” Professor Hicks begins to wrap up the class. “Still, vampires find themselves in our cultures over and over again. Not just Dracula or Nosferatu, but legends dating back to ancient Greece or Mesopotamia. Yes, these stories are used to produce fear and enjoyment. But, I believe vampirism can be used as a stand in for the ills of our society. In this film, addiction is the issue being tackled. But, who is to say that the next modern vampire masterpiece won’t use vampirism as a stand in for capitalism and our need to constantly consume the latest and greatest product? Next week we’ll be watching a version of Death of a Salesman. I want you to think about what success means to you over the weekend. I’ll see you Tuesday and remember, watch for vampires. Not just the real, but the metaphorical in your life,” I love the way she speaks. I could listen to her for hours every day. Just the two of us, for all eternity watching films. 

Author's Note: I actually made a video about the star of Ganja and Hess as one of my first YouTube videos.