Chris Panatier
1. THE DISPATCHInternet Review from a Vampire
Vescelaus slammed the book shut. He’d never been so disgusted in all his life—which was saying something. Vescelaus was immortal.
He tossed it across the room and through a wall, leaving behind an open-book-shaped hole. Some framed photos of his sirelings fell from their screws. He dragged over his laptop, logged into Goodreads, and typed his username, VenousDrainous1272.
I have now had the displeasure of reading Reddish Hue, an ersatz memoir by one “Catharine Montgomery,” (an obvious pseudonym).
Strong start, he thought.
Advertised as “a brilliant tell-all by a real vampire,” Reddish Hue peddles a truly odious and poorly fabricated account of vampirism. Its offenses are many, but let’s start with daywalking.
No, no, no, he thought. He’d finish with daywalking, the most capital of her revelations. He tapped at the delete button with an exquisitely lacquered nail.
Not only does Ms. Montgomery have us floating about like foppish apparitions, primping in mirrors, and sparkling like a faerie’s bum, but her transparently imagined characters are crucifix immune and sleep in all manner of unsavory places (beds!).
Vescelaus glanced to his Sleep Number coffin which had just received fresh sheets.
Lastly, only the worm-eaten mind of the irredeemably unhinged would promote the fantastical notion that vampires regularly move about in the daylight, and I implore the author to seek immediate rehabilitation for what is a readily apparent drug habit. That anyone would allow themselves to be glamoured into believing this “account” is beyond me. One star; would not recommend.
Chuffed by his contribution to the cause, Vescelaus hit ENTER and the review went live.
What next? The streaming services were always repurposing vampire culture in abhorrent new ways—and sometimes guessing right. Hmm. It was near morning. Quiet. He sighed. A cat would be welcome company. So long as he didn’t eat it.
Vescelaus went to the kitchen and poured a half-pint of red into an antique silver chalice. A notification was waiting upon his return to the couch. Already? He clicked. Someone had commented on his review.
I also read Montgomery’s Reddish Hue and found it to be spot on. Now, how can two people read the same book and arrive at such divergent conclusions, especially when it concerns matters of purported fact? Either it portrays vampires accurately or it does not. A true dilemma that demands examination.
Let us consider the ratings history of user VenousDrainous1272. Hmm, let’s see, 14,652 books reviewed. All vampire themed. Positive reviews for those with “traditional” vampire lore, and one-star ratings for alternative accounts. Now we should ask ourselves why VD (too easy) seems to have a fang to grind.
Vescelaus gagged, then coughed up some of his beverage. He levitated over the couch and into the entryway where he used a crucifix-shaped mirror to help him clean the AB negative spittle from his sparkling chin, then floated back to the computer screen and read incredulously on.
I posit an ulterior motive for these strangely bipolar reviews. VenousDrainous simply wishes to subvert the truth. To keep the world ignorant of the level to which vampires have already insinuated themselves into our everyday lives. The greatest lie ever told was that vampires shun the light. Keep your eyes up and your necks covered, people. They’re everywhere.
The user was M()()nRunner02. Real name: Adalgisa the Sudden. A centuries-old pain in Vescelaus’s ass.
And also a werewolf. A real bitch. Always nipping at his heels, trying to sabotage his cultural misdirection. Well, two could play at that game.
Vescelaus swept the curtains aside with a flourish, inviting the dawn to blaze through. He made no effort to catch his robe as it fell open, taking the opportunity instead to bask in the sun. Closing his eyes, he tapped thoughtfully at the dimple over his lips and tried to recall the tale of the werewolf’s curse…some gloomy drivel about wolfsbane’s bloom and the bright autumn moon. Enough was enough. Time to set the record straight on that flea-bitten plague, Lycanthropos. He snatched up his e-reader and began downloading werewolf books.
2. BUREAU INVENTORYA photo of my daughter
An IRIS circle-drawing tool for my art and illustration life
Two ancient zombie philodendrons
My Witcher-themed coffee mug
Chinese lesson notebook
Kindle for reading breaks
Monocular for bird watching
Paper braids taped to lamp made for me by my daughter before I had long hair because she knew I wanted braids.
3. BIOGRAPHYChris Panatier lives in Dallas, Texas, with his wife, daughter, and a fluctuating herd of animals resembling dogs (one is almost certainly a goat). He writes short stories and novels, "plays" the drums, and draws album covers for metal bands. As a lawyer, he goes after companies that poison people. Plays himself on twitter @chrisjpanatier. Chris has two novels published, The Phlebotomist and STRINGERS (April 12, 2022), and his short fiction has appeared in Metaphorosis, The Molotov Cocktail Magazine, Ghost Parachute, Ellipsis Zine, Defenestration, and others.