I blinked, then reread the last sentence. It still didn’t make sense to my mind, but then, humans seemed to delight in confusing me. I tried going back a few paragraphs, then reading up until the sentence that had both confused me and delighted so many. It still read “he sparkled.” A faint whimper resonated through my closed mouth, as my lips folded down into a frown.
I looked into the mirror, and faced my reflection. For thousands of years, I had been the thing of legends, ever since I had killed my brother. I’d have gone insane far before now, had it not been for the game I’d invented to while away the time. For each legend that humanity had created about me, I’d play to the stereotype. It had been interesting, and had allowed me the chance to recreate myself over and over again.
So, okay, the Greeks thought that I was a woman, and the Chinese thought that I ate souls, and after that one night having had too much to drink, I’d actually tried out those myths about myself, but other than that, it had been pretty enjoyable.
Then, the middle ages had happened, and I was being served garlic left and right. It was almost enough to make me go to the Americas, where they didn’t have the herb, but being as pale as I was, I figured that that wouldn’t be a wise decision. So, I toughed it out, and, eventually, things got better.
The legends seemed to forget about me, for awhile, until a new author came up with an idea that would fester in the minds of horror writers to come. I sighed, thinking of the catastrophe that had been. I’d had to buy a castle, then train dogs to howl at every little thing. The women I got to dress up in scanty clothes made not sleeping at night totally worth it, though. By then, I’d already given up red wine, having had my fill of it in the middle ages, and having to go back to that was almost hell itself. It was better than the alternative, however. As much as I enjoyed my game, drinking blood simply wasn’t something I’d ever gotten used to.
I grew comfortable in my lonely, and expensively heated castle, and thought that things were on the up, when technology boomed around me, and they created a monstrosity called movies. I shuddered as I thought about what had happened because of those moving pictures.
Suddenly, it was all I could do to keep up with the various legends. I cut my hair, styled it into a widow’s peak, dyed it black, used my mind powers to look monstrous, in one town, I attempted living in the sewers. I’ll never do that one again, I’ll tell you that.
All in all, I’ve had thousands of transformations. The latest one was actually pretty enjoyable. I got to dress up like a rock star, and allow women to fawn over me. My voice has always been suitable for singing, so this persona was probably one of the most natural and, well, fun. Certainly a far cry above dining on rodents.
But then, this book was written. I sighed and scowled at the novel in question. It seemed that the rock star days were over, as the media was now clamoring over this freak show. Then, slowly, I picked up the cellphone my last reincarnation had been hip enough to purchase, and dialed up my personal assistant. Ah, the perks of being a rock star. He picked up on the second ring.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I growled into the phone. “Who else has this number? Know what? Nevermind; I don’t want to know.” I took a deep breath, then plunged into the real reason I was calling. “We don’t happen to have any of those sparkling lotions, do we? And, while we’re at it, what do you know about baseball?”