The Nosferatu

The vampire clan known as the Nosferatu are one of my favorites, Strong vampires with incredible physical strength and a remarkable knowledge for art. No other vampire feels the kiss of Cain as deep as that of the Nosferatu, for their disciplines of vampiric lore come with a price. 

They are Scared for the rest of their existence to be hideous creatures that lurk in the shadows even more than the other clans. I leave you with the rude awakening in to the darkness of a Nosferatu.

Perfect. I grin into the mirror. Six-one, dark hair, dark eyes, smile that can be sweet and wicked all at once. Hair meticulously arranged to look like it wasn't. Leather jacket, black shirt, black jeans, silver jewelry, black boots, just a touch of makeup. Shades for effect, although it's already close to midnight. Pretty goth boy going out on the town.

Still smiling, I drop the Mask, force myself to keep staring as the reflection in the mirror warps. Grin runs like water, takes on more twists than a mountain highway. Sharp outfit becomes whatever was in the Goodwill box 18 months ago. It patchily covers a gnarled tangle of limbs sticking out in various directions from a lump that would make Quasimodo climb to the top of his bell tower and praise the grace of God. Chest down to my waist. Yeah, that thing there - that scabby patch of crust with the pus dribbling from its cracks - used to be a face, once upon a time. Smell hits then - a perfume far different from the ones I wore as a mortal. "Eau du Nosferatu" is enough to make even me gag. I stand there and count to 10, slowly, like I do every night when I wake up. Gotta keep things in perspective.