In Fiction, Vampires Suck. So Do Billionaires, But That’s A Rant For Another Day…
Now, I’m all for suspension of disbelief. I’ve written a lot of stuff requiring it. But really, it’d be nice if once, just once, a bloody (Heh. See what I did there?) vampire story made sense.
We all know the scenario. Person gets bitten by a vampire, loses enough blood to be on the verge or carking it, then are “saved” by the vampire with the vamp’s own blood. Think about it seriously, folks. Thas has plot holes big enough to swallow you.
- The victim hasn’t changed physically yet. They’re simply nearly exsanguinated.
- Those precious drops of blood must be pretty magical indeed – they A, turn the victim into the living dead, and B, somehow alter the gut so blood alone can be digested, and then be pumped pretty damned fast back into the newly fanged one’s bloodstream, thus saving him or her.
- The original vampire in the scene who’s “making” the new vamp, always pulls their wrist back, saying “Enough!” as though the act of saving their new creation has nearly killed them, but said creation comes to, hungry for more, licketty-split. The timing’s off. Surely the fresh vampire, the one who’s going through the major bodily change, would react slower than that. There’s a lot going on under the surface, after all.
- FANGS! Teeth are dead. Sure, they have nerves in the roots, but at the surface, they’re like hair or toenails – no feeling, ergo, not alive. If a vampire is to get fangs, the original incisors would have to fall out so new ones can grow through. Now I’ve and read a lot of vampy stuff, and I’ve never seen this happen.
Ok, I’ll hop off this ‘ol soapbox for now, but before I go, could I just mention to the world that I’m getting pretty sick of the current trope with ebook album covers? A couple of years ago, female protags standing sideways with big guns and bare midriffs was all the rage. Now it’s mary-sues slinking up to shopped images of bare-chested blokes so ripped you’d think their skin is shrink-wrapped onto walnuts.