“Coffins. Coffins, unfortunately, are a necessity” ~ Louis
“I can see you in white satin” ~ Lestat
Interview with the Vampire
So,
if Necessity is the Mother of Invention, then perhaps it only makes
sense to invent or envision the most luxurious of necessities. Humans
have ideal homes, ideal mates, ideal cars. As a vampire, what is your
ideal coffin? Where would you slumber sweetest?
My
own little nest is tucked beneath the shady Hemlocks of Pere Lachaise,
the necropolis that cradles Abelard and Heloise, Oscar Wilde, Balzac,
Apollinaire and Jim Morrison. I can’t help it. I’ve always been a bit
elitist.
Don’t
ask me precisely where, of course. Such knowledge is privileged
information; I’m sure you understand. I do not receive mail or visitors
at this particular address. I entertain in the catacombs and the opera
house. My guests feast off the ruined innocence of street urchins. And
as for my correspondence, the Montmartre post mistress forwards all
items to Sacre Coeur, where a renegade priest faithfully intercepts my
missives. The softest of promises and the vilest of threats keep him
most reliable in his charge.
I digress. My resting place.
A
casket of ebony, richly inlaid with a riot of roses, tumbled together
and pierced by wrought iron thorns. The metaphor amuses me. Gustav
Moreau executed the original drawings, but Hector Guimard brought the
design to life. Unbeknownst to his craftsmen, while they labored on
those glorious portals marking the entrance into the bowels of the Paris
Underground, they forged and carved another exquisite portal. A
threshold and a destination combined, marking a rather different
transition.
The
exterior is obdurate, an unyielding exoskeleton, polished and smooth
with no discernible joint or seam. But like Aladdin's Cave, it opens to
one who has mastered its secrets. The mechanism is flawless, a flick of a
finger, and like the oyster its treasures are revealed. But only Hector
and myself have known that mystery and he took it with him to his
grave, from which he does not rise.
But
the sharp facade is a deception, the heart is all tenderness and
yielding, lined in lush rose silk velvet and filled with the snowiest of
swan’s down. In the moments before dawn I immerse myself, the ivory of
my skin sinks into the camouflage of the feathers, a trace of red at the
corners of my mouth, the darkness of my hair threading through the
softness. A predatory and feral Snow White, locked in slumber until the
cool kiss of twilight releases me and I rise to seek my own particular
poison.
A casket made of Pearls from the salty oceans. Creamy white with intricate designs carved by the hand. Inside ladled with satin black lining. This will be my resting place from all the chaos surrounding me. The only place I can truly be, me.
ReplyDeleteMy kind cannot reside in this world for long, no. We must rest in a world beyond this one, hostile to humans. Here, a casket crafted from obsidian, mirrors the soul of the one who rests in it. It knows nothing of humanity, and will reject their presence if in this world.
ReplyDeleteMy kind cannot reside here for long without rest. This place is for feeding, not home to my kind. To rest, I must go to a place hidden from, and hostile, to humans. Here, a casket forged from ebony, mirrors the soul of the one who rests in it. This casket rejects the very idea of humanity. Me and the coffin are connected, part of each other. What affects one of us directly affects the other. To replenish each other, we must be united.
DeleteMy ideal coffin is one of the darkest carbonado, the best physical representation of the darkness with which I surround myself (societal rejects and other "undesirables") and which directs my every thought and action, not to mention that I can't sink much lower than using a rock containing minerals from the Earth's crust. Carved to the coffin's surface is an image of a wolf cradling a pan flute, signifying my love of the hunt as well as the haunting tune that accompanies my arrival, encourages obedience, and signals doom for my enemies and prey. The melody is soft, yet harsh, like the whispering of the wind melding with the roar of the lion. Only those who can withstand it can open my resting place, inlaid with patches of grass from a freshly-cut field sewn into sheets of skin taken from my victims, all willingly given (every hunter needs a souvenir, after all, and few can resist my charms).
ReplyDeleteA coffin made of solid brimstone, where nothing could penetrate it. I want safety and security, and if it means giving up a glamorous casket with gems and jewels, so be it.
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ReplyDeleteMy coffin will be a simplistic coffin made of fine oak with a dark walnut stain. The interior will have a plush satin white cushions to give a plush surface for my final slumber. That would be my ideal coffin.
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ReplyDeleteMy ideal coffin would be one made of maple wood and coated in a nice varnish finish. It will be all black with red cloth inside. That way I can go out in style. The location will be on a deserted Island. No reason really. I just think it will be nice. Well, there is a reason. if by any chance I do become a vampire I want do not want to kill other humans. A house on the island would be nice, so that I could hide from the sunlight. In my coffin I would like some entertainment if I were to wake up. perhaps a deck of cards, or a pencil and a pad. The list goes on and on. Basically I just want to be comfortable if I wake up from the dead and become a vampire. It would be horrible to be trapped in a coffin for eternity. Oh, maybe a tomb would be nice, but we are talking about coffins. So, in a nutshell. I want an all black coffin with red cloth.
ReplyDeleteA coffin made of onyx stone. Shows the roughness of my outer shell. The inside will covered with red silk sheets, stuffed with Egyptian cotton. Again, the outside portrays my rough demeanor, but the inside will portray my royal but traditional side.
ReplyDeleteCoffins? Pfft. Those are from myths, when humans thought vampires rose from the dead. I sleep in a bed like any other normal human, or vampire for that matter. I tend to have beds that are most commonly used in the area I’m currently living in. If I could choose any bed, I’d have a king size, black mahogany, four poster bed with red satin drapes. These are opaque, mind you. I don’t burn alive in the sun, as you’ve well noticed, but I do sunburn easily. Also, I can go blind from sun exposure without my tinted contacts, so the drapes and curtains over the window are a must. The drapes and four poster bed make me feel like a princess, every girl’s dream. To match those drapes, I’d love a red and gold comforter on top of a super fluffy mattress that I can just fall into. My favorite color is purple, but there’s just something romantic about the red and gold combination. I’d also have matching pillow cases with frills around the edges. Those would be extra soft too. I want a bed that is so comfortable that I never want to get out. Yeah, that’d be my desired “coffin”.
ReplyDeleteMy coffin is a subtle place. It is hidden in plain sight, where my friends overlook it and my enemies would never guess. I have my office where I conduct business – and at any hour I can simply look over my shoulder and see my resting place. When my hours are done and my work is finished and the sky is turning pink through the window, I slide back the wall behind my desk and slip inside. The coffin itself is no ordinary thing. It is made of priceless black jade, studded with blood diamonds and painite (my favorite stone). The lid is a solid marble carving of me, stolen from a Greek temple by one of my black market workers. My vanity knows no bounds. In this priceless coffin I sleep, melting the daylight hours away until I rise again to do my business with the hungry and the desperate creatures who crave my presence.
ReplyDeleteI envision my place of slumber to be dark and secluded. I see my coffin being high up a mountain in a cave, surrounded by my family of wolf packs. I would be far enough away from any danger that might be interested in pursuing me during my time of rest. My coffin would have holes on the top, because I am claustrophobic. There would also be a lock on the inside of the coffin for my privacy as well.
ReplyDeleteHidden away in a dark corner of the forest where I walk, my coffin lies hidden. It would be made of a dark rosewood. Inlaid within the top is a beautiful carving of a demon driving a blade through the heart of an angel. Several of the blood patterns are inlaid rubies and blood dimonands to remind me of the beautiful glow of blood.The inside would be a blood red satain, with padding placed around the top for my head. It is locked from the inside by a master key that I carry on my person at all times.
ReplyDeleteMy coffin is solid jet black made out of black rubies inlaid with lines of purple lighting all around the coffin that signifies how quickly death will come to those who approach my place of rest without permission. My coffin is situated somewhere in the Lincoln Memorial and none have seen it except myself and a few choice lovers who are sworn to me. However I do not sleep in my coffin often because money never sleeps, or should I say power never sleeps? And if I’m to conquer the world, I can’t afford to sleep.
ReplyDeleteI, Uriel Oleander, am an insomniac. I do not sleep at all. Since my job is located in an enclosed forest, I usually do not know if it is day or night. There are no windows in this area of the prison. Nothing but the florescent light given off by the lanterns scattered around the forest. The lanterns are the only source of light, even in my small cabin within the forest. I do however, have a coffin. It was my father’s. Before he passed, he had entrusted it to me. He was not around much, so he never really knew I never slept, but it is one of the greatest possessions I have left.
ReplyDeleteThe coffin itself is made of never-melting ice. It gives of a frosty mist that chills the air around it. The ice is almost as cold as I am. Almost. It is opaque, despite being ice. To the touch of a non-Oleander, it freezes the blood. When it was back at my old house, when the moon light hit the coffin it glowed magically. It has four spikes that come from the four corners and the skull of my father’s first kill on the top inlaid within the ice.
I don’t really use the coffin for sleeping; I use it more for remembering my old man. I feel as if he is always here with me when I am sitting by it…
Everyone needs a home. When I was human I understood that necessity very well. I still do to some extent, the only difference is I do not reside in my home often, and it’s hardly furbished. When my mind finally does give me enough peace to rest for a few hours however, I find I am able to reside in a shabby little home I have prepared for myself shortly after I became a vampire. MY coffin is made out of solid oak. Though I could have been happy with a simple plywood coffin, I would like something that can’t easily rot, break, or let in the light. My coffin works well to keep out any one that may try to find me. I like my solitude, and my coffin blends in with every other coffin. For all anyone else knows, I’m just another dead body. My coffin covers all my needs of protecting me from the sun, keeping me hidden, and giving me a place of solitude. My mother used to tell me this, and even though we are no longer on speaking terms, I remember it to this day. Location is everything. As pathetic and ridiculous as it sounded coming from my mother, she had a point. I want a place that reflects my very essence and psyche. I needed a place where I can dwell into the deep crevices of my own self-pity and not be disturbed. It took me a long time to find such a place, but alas I did it. It’s very far from my hometown of Persia. The perfect reflection of the violent storms of bitter woe and misery is the coldest parts of Russia. Since I have a coffin, my home still needed to be in a cemetery. I know it’s been done before, but hey when something works stick with it. I chose a local cemetery in the town of Novy Urengoy. The town is cold and suites me just fine. My coffin is a bit of a trick in itself. Just like the court of miracles in the Disney film The Hunchback of Notre dame, my tombstone serves only as a door to a staircase. You don’t need to walk down the stairs too far, maybe about twenty feet. The stairs lead you to a moderately sized room, and then my coffin is set in the middle of the room.
ReplyDeleteTo put it simply, it is a place of refuge. There are very few places in this world I deem safe, but my coffin is one of them. It’s a strange thing, that sense of security. No matter how much a person goes out of their way to make a place safe, there is always the looming thought that it is never enough. I find myself in the exact situation as I have described. I obsess over it to the point insanity sometimes. I have made it this far and survived for so long that I cannot afford to risk being discovered. One man is no trouble for me; even if I am outmatched, I can still come out victorious if blood is involved. But what if one escapes? That’s when the trouble would. They would bring back more and more to destroy us. Although I may seem like it to the younglings, I am no God. If a time such as that comes, which it very well could, I fear I will not be able to protect them. There is very little about this world I fear any more, but that is one.
ReplyDeleteSo you see I cannot afford to be discovered. I cannot afford to lose them so easily. I do not fear men; I fear what they will do to the younglings. That is why when I first took in Colette all those years ago I moved my refuge to the outskirts of the city. Being out here keeps things quiet. I quickly discovered it was the best way to stay hidden and be close to a food source for them.
Hidden between the rubble of Scani, in the most beautiful setting of Verona does one as precious as I come to attain my sweet slumber.
ReplyDeleteWhen I'm finally too weak and desire to rest, I am cradled within the most gentle...bassinet. Made from the most desired bark of Sugi, my absolute adoration is my coffin. A casket, more so. For I am a precious jewel, deserved to be caressed within a sheath as such. Wrapped cozily within fine cashmere silk, only the best fabrics of the world for Queen of the underworld. You'll know it is mine, for sweet smelling green jade flowers flourish delicately from the basket which holds me tenderly as I rest, and the engraving of Saint Peter's cross along the lid of it's shell. Don't you dare disturb me as I doss. Although my appetite is usually suppressed, once I awake, my abdomen aches terribly for pure, bitter sweet blood.
My mode of collecting prey and moving on to greener pastures has led me to the conclusion that i had to have a home that could be transported. The coffin that i call home is comprised mainly of an onyx exterior. this unique finish is the only one that could truly reflect the soul of it's inhabitant. the interior of my coffin is of a plush fabric shaded in the deepest vermillion.
ReplyDeleteAs for moving my home, i had to aquire a vehicle. One such vehicle that struck my fancy was a 1969 Caddilac Fleetwood hearse. the moment i laid my undead eyes upon the automobile i knew i must have it. The vehicle itself is colored a black that matches my ebony resting place. The interior of said vehicle is comrised of black leather stiched in the same deep red as my coffin's interior. I know, it does stick out a tad, but i honestly could care less of what mere humans think.
My coffin is my sacred place where I slumber and reflect on my actions. The coffin is made of steel since I need something to keep me locked in here so no one can open it which reduces my risk of hurting some one. There is also little to no room for air to escape since I try to keep my flesh wasting disease to myself, no one knows exactly how serious it is. This disease keeps me in my coffin for the better part of my days but when it is time to feed, things change. I do try to stay in my coffin as much as I can though, seeing how to keeps others safe and is quite comfortable.
ReplyDeleteAfter searching all night to fulfill and satisfy my lust for blood I couldn’t deal with not having a place for my own to rest peacefully. I had to find one, I just had to. I finally discovered a perfect place for my needs in mausoleum at the graveyard near me. So I took it. I stole the coffin and even added a few extra things for my liking. The coffin was fairly large, fit for a king. It was made of a very durable but very dark and expensive ebony wood. The lid of the coffin had a very intricate design of a cross made of silver just to spite those who believe silver is actually one of my weaknesses. The sides of the coffin had exquisite carvings colored red with gold lining as if making something that dark and gloomy look even more interesting and powerful is even possible. The inside was lined with the most luxurious and comfortable material to see to it that I didn’t waste or miss another second of sleep. There was also an easily-operated latch on the inside of the coffin located on the underside of the lid next to where my hand sits. This is my coffin, my resting place.
ReplyDeleteMy coffin is not one made of wood but of stone rooms buried deep within the realm of the forgotten gods. The walls are made of cool cold obsidian formed during ages long past, and adorn with myriads of history from the tapestries of my homeland to the laminated posters of the New World above. These walls bring me no comfort, no joy, or sense of safety for they are the wall of my prison given to me to remind me of my place underneath the heels of my great master.
ReplyDeleteBuried in West Hollywood Forever Cemetery, my coffin has been preserved to a rather impeccable degree. A hand crafted white marble coffin is completely moisture proof and has no latches. Being six feet under is not a pleasant experience no matter how ideal the coffin may be.
ReplyDelete