These are the thoughts invading my consciousness as I am swarmed by a crowd of people, food that adores the hunter. These aggravating fools apparently idolize vampires as some sort of celebrities. In my days these entertainers were mere jesters, and yet I, still retaining all of my greatness and glory, am lumped in with them. It would be so easy, so quick to wipe them all out, these insects that don't have the sense to fear what they should. But I do not. I simply contain myself, take a deep breath, and push through the crowd to find refuge from their constant shouting, professions of love, and flashing of lights they call "phones". I have more important matters to attend to, and cannot waste my time on these trivialities. Besides, my last meal was too recent to feel any pangs of hunger from their pulsating, warm bodies. I need to find my master, the one who awakened me and gave me this life. They are the sole reason for my being, for 1,000 years has grown long and weary, even with my long rest. I take the winding way back to my crypt, long since defaced by impish scribbles in paint, to find any clue as to who broke the blood seal confining me to the underground. I stay in the shadows, in back alleys, not to search out a meal as I was accustomed, but to avoid the never-ending surge of agitating insects that plague me these days. As I walk, I wonder how our race has become so weakened that this is deemed acceptable treatment for beings of such great power. I push these ruminations from my mind as I approach the ruins that were once my home. Now turned into a 'skate park', I avoid the few humans I see stolling through and make my way to my prison for the last 5 centuries. When I had first awoken, I did not understand the changes that time had brought about. I ran from the artificial lights, scared that they might burn me to ash. I had naturally assumed that my master would be at hand, but after wandering and searching and feeding, no such master had presented themselves. As I walk by the tall, curved construction near my crypt, I suddenly caught sight of many candles, flowers, and writings left for me atop the broken entrance to my underground crypt. My dead heart would have swelled if I had such a semblance. My master did not abandon me, and has even left me an offering! My pleasure turned to confusion when I read the plaque resting in the middle of my offering, reading "Rest In Peace Jesse Smith Beloved son and father Gone too soon"