Delving into the library basement I found the lights had been turned off. For a moment I feared there might be electrical issues and that the meeting may have been canceled but I soon spotted soft lights to the left of me, behind reflective glass. Drawing closer it became clear these lights were candles lit aflame, something I was almost certain was forbidden by school policy. Figures swayed back and forth in crimson robes within the room. One turned to me. Her mouth gently gaped, something about it seeding a deep unease in my belly. Then the light caught her protruding canines causing me to stumble back and drop my GameCube. The harsh clattering noise caught their collective attention. Pale faces smudged up against the glass staring at me with predatory eyes. My eyes focus on their mouths, all packing long sharp cuspids. I quickly picked up my GameCube and was ready to turn heel but as I did the meeting rooms door swung open. An obscured man stood poised by the door, his fingers beckoning me. Against my better judgment I approached and entered the room, the man’s hands gently guiding me in. 

The then crowded group dispersed into different corners of the room, exchanging low whispers. The man who had drawn me in turned to me, staring stiffly for a moment before saying “Welcome to the Camarilla”.  At the time I was unfamiliar with that word or the old “disbanded” club that went by that name, all I knew was that I had stepped into a place alien to the world I knew. 

They had placed a boom box at the end of the room that played gentle but strange organ music. Three large bowls lined the left wall of the room, a thick red liquid being poured from it into the attendants cups every so often, carelessly splashing the tables and carpet. I had never felt so intensely watched as eyes seemed to almost pop from their sockets with the wild fervor of their side glances. It was clear this room-- this artificial reality, was not built for me.

The man who had welcomed me flicked his glass cup with his index finger three times, its harmonies gently calling the room's attention. He spoke softly but with enough strength that all could hear his words “I am sure it has not escaped you that fresh blood has seeped its way into our ceremony. In a time of such decay it is a true blessing, her presence the promise of rejuvenation, of a return to the times of old where we could meet without subterfuge. We have been too secretive, too scared to unravel the masquerade and now we stare at the edge of oblivion. We must open our arms and show this mortal the way of the Canite, if we are to survive we must embrace!” With those words the room quickly became crowded with dissonant whispers too tangled for my ears to unravel.

A few started to approach me their arms extended and fingers grasping. I was frozen in confusion, the ground becoming less real at every attempt to rationalize what I had found myself in. The man must have set down his glass; both of his hands had tightly grasped my shoulders, his nails ever so slightly digging into my flesh to latch onto muscle. I pried my mouth open to scream but all my pathetic quivering throat could emit was a low struggling croak. “Don’t fight it” he said “You will join us soon enough”. Those once distant figures were on me now, shyly but tightly clasping onto my clothes and body. They should have been easy to fight off; they didn’t feel all too strong, but my strength had been sapped away, leaving only enough vitality to quiver as the hands tore at what sanctity I perceived in my body. Something cold pierced my neck, a wet snail like thing slithering in between the wound that shot pain through my body. With my head held stiffly I could not face the horror inflicted on me but horrid clarity reached me as I saw the others latch on to me, their warm teeth digging in deep. My eyes zigged and zagged wildly across the room searching for any lifeline. My gaze was only met with figures ambivalent to my pain or on the verge of joining their comrades in the desecration of my being. My once- struggling heart began to soften and my eyelids fell like heavy rocks, leaving me in darkness and pain. 

I would awake to an empty room, my body devoid of wounds but a lingering sting traced their feeding ground; they had been thorough, an unfettered defilement. My body was plagued by a deep exhaustion, unable to rise. I eventually managed to roll my head in my desperation. The room was devoid of people but stains lingered, the tables dripping with that strange ichor. Hours later I would be found by library staff who scolded me and told me that the eGaming Guild would have to be banned after so many consecutive messes left behind after their meets. I tried to explain that I was not part of the club and tell them what had happened to me, but they would not listen.

I would later come to find that the group I had stumbled on was not the eGaming Guild at all but rather the remnants of the Camarilla Club who had falsely been operating under the other clubs name to check out spaces since not enough members remained enrolled at the college to renew their club status. I tried going back the next week- I know it was stupid but I needed to see, to understand. The room was empty and undisturbed, but something familiar lingered, the feeling of eyes burrowing into me. I swallowed my saliva, held my breath, and ran up the stairs. I haven’t been down there since. I have spotted some of the folks that I saw that day since then but they always seem so normal, not the kinds of fiends that I had encountered that day. Too scared to confront them I just stare, waiting for the mask to fall, for all to become clear but it never does. The one person I have yet to see is that man, yet I can feel his lingering presence at this college, I know he’s here, somewhere.  I decided long ago the best I could was get as far as I could from this place and just forget. Maybe writing this is the final step to letting go and finally living my life or maybe it's just cementing a nightmare that will never end. Only time will tell.

Credit to Allec Phipps for the art