by Anarch
And so ended another exhausting night…
It isn’t an easy existence, being a ghoul. Despite the stories that you heard, despite the tales of Kindred who fell in love with mortals and took them under wing to love and to cherish, it is not an existence of ease.
Being a ghoul does not mean you are loved and cherished. It means that you are a servant. No. Even less than that~ you are a slave. You are there to be commanded. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not raise eyes or voice. Do not disobey.
You are a constant food supply, kept on hand. Blood on the hoof. Be prepared to tilt your head aside and offer yourself willingly. Be prepared to be ignored, abused and degraded. Be prepared to be the brunt of their jokes and the subject of their whims. Be prepared to be neglected or cast aside or even killed, should the mood fit your domitor.
Do it for fear. Do it for obedience. Do it for this sick, perverse, twisted love that makes your heart beat faster and faster when you see them at a distance; this illness that makes you tremble when you feel their gaze upon you, this loss of hope and degradation that makes your insides whisper and quiver as you pray that they will look favorably upon your non-existent self. Oh god, please let them see me. Let them know me. Let these evil, dark creatures desire me.
No task is too menial for a ghoul. A ghoul is a food source, a concubine, a gopher and a bodyguard. To know that they rely upon you is some small gratification until you realize how easily you can be replaced. The world is seething with blinded fools who want to love these creatures. These dark Gods of the night. These Kindred.
I know these things because I long. I love and I linger and I long for that which slips through my fingers like tiny grains of sand. Respect. Adoration. Acknowledgement… and yet I am formless and faceless to them. I am without substance and without meaning. With every night that passes, I learn more and more that I am no longer myself. I am no longer Christian Delaney.
I am a ghoul. Nothing more.
~from the journal of Christian S. Delaney, Camarilla ghoul