Vampires: Not for the Twi-hearted
November 23, 2010 Leave a comment
Published: Trespass Magazine
Our modern day understanding of vampires is slightly warped from the true history of the species, or myth. Eastern Europe is known as having the largest amount of folklore associated with these monsters, dating as far back to the 9th and 10th centuries. Back then, one could be a vampire simply from being born on a certain day, or born out of wedlock, or a person who had died an unnatural death. Of course, being bitten by a vampire can also lead to the transformation of one.
Identifying a vampire is also different nowadays. Traditionally, vampires had fangs, or tails and contrary to common belief, were bloated-looking creatures with a darkish complexion. They were also the least likely candidates to have intimate relations with humans, especially in regards to the romance we often see in contemporary television. Read more of this post

The house I grew up in in Malaysia had a large forest just behind our backyard. In essence, our home was quite like a zoo; but only one animal, our dearly beloved Labrador (now deceased), Leo, was actually welcome there.
In times of stress, WikiHow tells you to relax, breathe, close your eyes and then find your happy place. That’s all great advice except sometimes people make you so mad you feel like pelting the nearest object to you in their face. Whenever I feel like that, dreaming of frolicking in a field catching butterflies just won’t do. Instead, I clench my fists, shut my eyes and imagine said people are piñatas, and I’m beating them over their heads with an ugly stick – and that does the trick in washing over fried nerves like a cooling balm.
Beneath my cool, calm, steely exterior is a gaping hole where a soft spot lies for a mushy thing called…love poetry. Back in my more youthful days when my memory wasn’t as poor as it is today, I used to memorise my favourite poems, and then recite them to nobody – although, they may or may not have made an appearance in a love letter or two. So, because it is love week at Trespass (and if you can’t get sentimental during love week, when can you?), I would like to discuss some things pertaining to romantic love - and let it by no means jeopardise my cool, calm, steely exterior.
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On the way home, the clouds looked like pink cotton candy. They were stretched whimsically across the sky as if some child was in the midst of pulling at them, creating a fleeting horizon with luminous pink fibres that glowed bolder than the stooping sun. I remembered thinking the sky looked good enough to eat.
Some dream of one day getting married, others hope that they will be allowed to, and then there are those who loathe the idea entirely.
The ‘Balloon Boy’ spectacle would probably top my ‘ridiculous things people do to get on TV’ list. Not only did Richard Heene con an entire nation and beyond, he also wasted the valuable time of rescue workers. Furthermore, and even more grotesquely, he exploited his own children for fame and profit and now, his son will forever be known as Balloon Boy – that is a lot of otherness to put on a child.
My first love brought me to the moon and back. At times, the ecstasy of that relationship made me feel like we were frolicking in space, uninhibited, whilst being blissfully unaware of the existence of anyone but ourselves. We were a pair, seemingly indestructible. But alas, like most first relationships, our intergalactic journey inevitably came to an end on planet Uranus.
