Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

The Times They Are A-Changin'
Bob Dylan

Not many mortals can say that they’ve had the pleasure of biting a vampire. I can. And I can also vouch for the fact that unless you break the skin, it does NOT taste good. At the time, of course, I had no idea that Callisto was an immortal or a blood drinker. I just assumed that he was strong and fast and a narcissistic asshole who didn’t give me a moment’s peace . . . and thus deserved every hit, kick, and inevitable bite I could get in edgewise. Fast forward nearly 2300 years, and he goes on and on about how abusive, cruel, and cold I was. What he oftentimes fails to mention is that he enslaved me. Oh, that sounds harsh? It was.

I entered the Roman military at the age of sixteen, after all four of my older brothers met their subsequent deaths at the hands of the Carthegian soldiers during the Punic Wars. You have to remember that the military of my time was a completely different animal than what I see today: there was no need for inspirational Army of One commercials like I see on American television, no fancy education plans to lure young men and women, no military video games released by the government, and most definitely no qualms about enlistment. It was my duty as a Roman, my duty as the head of my household, and my duty as a man to sacrifice my life. No one ever told me the damn barbarians might enslave me.

I’d barely developed my sea legs when I entered my first battle against the Carthaginian forces. Furthermore, they never even gave me the courtesy of knowing I was IN battle. The psychopaths decided to launch an attack during one of the worst storms of the season, and as our ship nearly capsized in the rolling waves off the shore of Syracuse, the deranged brutes thought it would be a good idea to come aboard and slay us in person. How thoughtful.

In all the confusion of rain and wind and spray, I think I was clutching the railing for dear life when I was suddenly surrounded by at least eight enemy soldiers. Just as I decided to jump the rail and fling myself into the undulating waves of chance, I felt a rough sack thrust over my head, my arms and legs bound, and my body carried off like some cumbersome cargo before finally losing consciousness.

When I awoke I was no longer Judan, the privileged heir to one of Rome’s most powerful families. Instead, I was Judan, a slave in the household of Callisto, and I would remain a slave for the next three years of my life. How was it? Well, let’s just say I have never in all my years embraced the term “master,” and in all honesty I spent more time vomiting up the horrendous food they gave me and plotting various ways to torture Callisto than doing anything anyone asked of me.

Even though Rome would emerge victorious in battle, Callisto never even bothered to try to ransom or sell me back to my homeland, much less offer me my freedom. Instead, he had me locked in a solitary room after I attempted to set his house on fire. When I attempted to kill myself out of sheer frustration, he began having me guarded both night and day by his own men. I’m still not exactly sure what he saw in me: Why, out of all the faithful and loyal servants of his household, did Callisto care most whether I lived or died?

It is something I didn’t bother to consider then and can’t figure out now. Whatever the case, after years of this miserable existence, something finally changed. In the dead of night I awoke to find that my guards—which had infallibly remained within ten feet of my being for the last three years—were nowhere in sight. Outside, all I heard was mass confusion: shouts, screams, pounding, and the clash of metal upon metal. Without warning, the heavily bolted door of my cell suddenly flung open, and like some demonic savior Callisto grabbed me from my bed and ran with me through the darkened passages of his palace, finally bringing both of us into the relative safety of an underground set of tunnels beneath the house. I knew that all Callisto’s earthly possessions were burning above us and that his servants were either slaughtered or part of the revolt that had launched this carnage. I heard them banging against the doors. I heard their frantic footsteps above. I heard the desperation in Callisto’s voice as he explained to me that he was an immortal, profoundly powerful, who possessed the ability to live forever so long as he remained out of the sun’s rays and feasted each night upon the blood of the living. I was sure he had finally gone mad. Yet before I could protest, I was consumed by the burning intensity of his fatal dragon kiss.

On that night, I became a vampire. On that night, I once again found myself surrounded, bound, and hoisted by my enemies. On that night, I was separated from Callisto—from the one being who could teach me what my new existence and powers meant—and would not lay eyes on him again for more than 2200 years. During this time I wandered constantly, seeing the rise and fall of kingdoms, watching legends made and great men born. I have always haunted the eternally crowded cities of the night, forever surrounded by the laughter, cries, hopes, dreams, evil, and redemption of the mortal world. Despite what conventional morals might demand, I don’t select the murderers, thieves, rapists, and liars of the world as my victims. Instead, I take the lives of those who never live in the first place: I relinquish the unambitious, apathetic, fatally boring mortals from the dreary confines of their mundane existence. So dream big my treasured mortal friends—celebrate life, admire all the beauty and magnificence of this great wide world, and never lose yourself in the drudgery of mediocrity. Otherwise, I will be waiting, and I assure you: I will be ruthless.