One day I was sitting in my doctor’s office, and I overheard two men who had walked in having a conversation. I was only listening because their conversation was about vampires, and I always kept a look out for any suspicion. People may not believe in ghost stories anymore, but they weren’t completely ignorant. One man was talking about his father’s laughable vampire raids.

“My family went on those hunts also. So don’t worry. My father went often with his priest’s son. The Cullens. Sad story they had.” One man was saying. I was completely aghast. The son of a man that had been there the night of my death was here in my doctor’s office. Did this man know what I looked like?

“Yeah. I think everybody was so superstitious back then. Afraid to go out at night and burned any poor pale gentlemen they saw” said the other man.

“In the past” they said together and laughed.

“But you say it was a sad story…the Cullens?” the second man continued.

“Yes. Poor Carlisle, I think my father said. Yes Carlisle Cullen, the son of Father Cullen. He was murdered on one of those ludicrous vampire raids. Father Cullen had apparently always been harsh on the boy, but he couldn’t take it when he realized he had a part in his only son’s death. He died shortly after” The first man told.

“Sad” they said together again. They must be good friends. When the man came into my office I was scared that I’d be recognized. But all that he said was “Good day sir. John Winston. My arm is in pain” I wondered if he knew that the plaque outside said Doctor Cullen.

For ten years I stayed at that job, but I realized I had to move around because rumors were about. I hadn’t aged in ten years and that was something that was noticeable in a popular doctor. So I decided it was time to die. I was supposed to be only around forty, but I looked too much younger, and I couldn’t think of another way to disappear. I laid low for a century. Meaning I did more discreet studying, and traveled more. I met many quite amiable vampires. Among those was a clan of vampires that did not seem so averse to my philosophy. There names were Tanya, Kate, Eleazar, and Carmen. They were good acquaintances and I would often meet them, and stay with them while traveling or studying. They even took up my way of life. The three women of the clan were friendly with mortal men and so they too were averse to human blood. They were the closest friends to me in sixty-five years.

After my century of ‘death’ I started to weigh the pros and cons of the New World. There were after all too many bad memories, and a fresh life was very appealing. The years had made the humans so much less suspicious, and there wasn’t really any fear where I went, just awe occasionally, which still annoyed me to no end that humans just sat and gaped instead of running from this monster. After a few days deciding, my choice was made, my money turned all into cash and in a small bag, along with my father’s few remaining belongings which I had fondly collected after the conversation in my clinic.

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