Blood Tells Me About the Night

My name is Charon. I have other names but they are nearly lost, even to my own memory. I am the owner of a small tent show. Honesty should prevent me from calling it a circus. But I call it Circus Charon because no hungry man is honest. That title implies a vaster collection of curiosities and attractions than I have to offer. I am a dealer in the strange and unusual. Perhaps it is not surprising that it is so. I am a member of an ancient clan as old as time itself. I am reformed in some senses of the world and unlike others of my kind. I am a vampire. There, I have said it. But forget all the myths and stories built up about them. Many of them are not true. Some are but it is a delusion to think you know what a vampire is. In any case, my way is not their way. I do drink human blood of course, but not to maim or kill. I buy it wholesale. I have never killed a human being. It has never been my way to do so, though I confess, humans die easily. And for one such as me, death would not be difficult to arrange. But this is not my story, it is the story of my little circus and its troupe. Keep that in mind. It is all about Circus Charon. But enough of that. Let me tell the story that I have contrived to put before you.