Come sit by my side, young children of night
I’ll make you a lesson with warnings to set fright
To even the hearts our Master hath made
Blacker than the very darkest of shade.
Our story begins as so many do,
With an hubristic vampire of carefree milieu
Who tired of blood from the virgin’s veins
And sought instead for more magical strains
Entering a hut at the edge of the town,
He spotted his prey and to her neck bent down
But before he delivered the feeding kiss
A pain in his mouth revealed something amiss.
Holding with joy tight in her palm
The Wiccan exposed the way of her harm
“I have your tooth” she said with a hiss
“Do what I say or you’ll beg for the abyss”
The hag-queen had her vampire slave
I can hardly describe the torments she gave.
Washing dishes and chopping fire wood
because he had dared drink witches blood.
Villagers came from far and wide
To see the tame vampire and whip his hide.
If he tried to escape from tasks so mundane
His mouth was wrought with unbearable pain
But soon the vampire had devised a plan:
“Do you want to be alone and miserable again?
If I don’t sup blood, and very soon,
I shall fade and you will be alone.
Riches will cease to fall at your feet
No cheering crowds to line the street
Let me stalk for my prey just for tonight
I’ll only drink from those you wish me to bite”
Soon the crone's enemies were all dead,
And the vampire’s belly was fully fed.
Slowly the Count felt his strength return
He would use it soon to make the hag burn.
But then he awoke from a fitful sleep
to an outrageous sight that made his skin creep.
The witch with gusto slurped and drank
his blood through his tooth in his own vein sank!
Stepping back and wiping her mouth with glee
“that’ll teach you to underestimate me,
The power that you had stored and saved
was an illusion my mind to yours gave.
Come now I’ll use you if you are awake
I have another task for you to undertake.
A chance for you to make me scream
for magical children have long been my dream.”
What happens next to our unfortunate friend
Is an assault worse than delicate ears can attend.
The witch had made his degradation complete
We hope through telling this tale, it has no repeat.
Taken from Isabella von Carstein's opening chapter of
"An Anthology of Stories for the Instruction of Young Vampires in Good Manners and Fair Behaviour; Written in Easy Rhyme." circa 1790.
Translated with kind permission of the author.