Name: Chelsea Colleen Jaeger

Gender: Female

Age: 79

Apparent Age: 23

Place of Birth: Demaitre

Species: Vampire

Coven: Nephim

Appearance: Colleen’s fire-red straight hair reaches to the small of her back when worn loose, though more often than not she has some fancy do behind her head. Her favorite is a bun with three long braids extending beneath it; her bangs hang free in this do with a slight curve allowing them to reach to her attractively squarish jaw. Her baby-blue eyes stare out above high, yet barely pronounced cheekbones flanking a slender, mid-length nose that has clearly never been broken. Her soft lips are a rich, dark shade of red, though this is now mostly retained through feeding and lipstick. She has sensuous curves that definitely warrants her five-foot-eight form a second – and probably a third – look. She has relatively pale skin, though feeding gives her a decent Caucasian hue.

Colleen loves earrings, bracelets, and rings of all kinds and is rarely seen without a good supply of them. Her clothes are generally of a fire-red hue to match her hair and blue accessories (such as belts) and trim are quite typical of her wardrobe. She likes ‘sexy’ outfits that not only define her head-turning form, but accentuate her eye-catching d-cups as well. She is also a fan of heels and loves showing off her red-painted toenails – which, coincidentally, match her long, attractively trimmed, red-painted fingernails. She’s also a huge fan of dark sunglasses, though this is primarily due to her visual weakness to light. Regardless, she might as well take to them in style – right? Thus, she typically wears rather fashionable shades of the large and square variety.

Colleen has a slow, confident stride, like a cunning tiger stalking its prey through the jungle-like city of Demaitre. This is partially from her time as a dancer (see History), but her vampiric nature has given her a grace and balance unknown to any mortal. When she relaxes, she often does so in a dramatic pose that shows off her form – usually to taunt men, of course. When she’s sitting or standing in a ‘business’ pose, it’s no different.

History: My history…is an odd one, I suppose. I’m certainly not your garden-variety girl. But then, if I were a garden-variety girl, I wouldn’t be writing things down in this diary of mine so that I can remember them five hundred years from now. That’s the real trick, isn’t it? Keeping notes so you remember who you were…who’d have thought I’d be doing so over a half-century after I was born? Then again, who would have thought I’d still be twenty-three after that much time?

I suppose I’d better provide some background to start. Before seventeen, there’s not much to tell; I was a quiet girl with a pretty good voice, but I was no singer by nature. Actually, I was a dancer – not the kind you see in bars; I’ve never sunk THAT low. No, I was a REAL dancer. Off the dance floor, I was a nobody who wore simple dresses and talked little. On the dance floor, though, I was a fireball – and then some. I was a queen of the tango and a mistress of the free-style. Indeed, I was quite talented. My parents failed to see it, of course.

When I was seventeen, though, someone noticed. He was the typical outsider, naturally: he stayed on the outside of the crowd, looking cool with his biker jacket, his greasy hair, his cool shades…exactly the kind of boy my parents would have killed me to keep me away from. I still laugh about that now, but in truth, I should have listened to them. Then again, immortality has its own advantages.

I spent six years dating that sexy boy, three of which I spent away from home. At twenty, I finally defied my parents and openly left home. I chose to sleep with him at that point, though that was mostly to further shame my parents than anything else. He taught me to speak my mind and come out of my shell – and then he turned me.

It was the most wonderful feeling I had ever known. The power – the sheer power that I felt – was beyond anything I had imagined. The sex was particularly amazing after that. It had been off the charts to begin with, but after I was turned there were charts only for how amazing the sex WASN’T. Hehe…but mostly, what I felt was smooth, cold-as-ice power. I wasted no time in using the money my boyfriend had amassed over the last eighteen hundred years. He was a man who knew how to blend in with modern society, whatever that modern society might be. He introduced me to a number powerful, wealthy, influential vampires throughout Demaitre. Mostly, though, I adapted well to the night life – and I’m not just talking about feeding, either, though that was certainly a major part of my life.

I spent most of the next twenty years living that night life. It’s a blur as I look back on it now, so I don’t remember many specific events. I do remember, though, that there were many men my sire knew of but didn’t press me about. He figured as long as I was happy and wasn’t boasting, he didn’t care; he was rather tolerant in that manner – for which I loved him even more. After all, why make a scene when I can simply take pleasure from my feeding?

I think his tolerance is why I have become what I am today. I think I did it for him; I think it’s what he would have wanted. I became bolder and much more the fireball that I was born to be – and not just on the dance floor. Indeed, after he was burned alive in a freak accident, my mourning period – though long – was not something that halted my life completely. The worst part was that he asked me to marry him the same night that house he was in burned down.

It was another ten years before I remember anything distinct again. What I do remember for sure, though, is the sixties: oh, yes. The sixties was a turbulent time; of that there is no doubt – and I was right in the heart of it.

The part of the sixties that I really got into was the bra burning. Sure, I could make men do whatever I wanted with just a glance and a word, but what about the rest of my fellow femmes? They were in the same pile of shit I had been in as a mortal; the only difference was that this was a totally different world from the one in which I’d grown up in. The principle remained the same: women were just as important to the world as men. In fact, we were more important: we were the ones that gave birth and made it possible for all those men to show up in the first damn place. Bra burning, of course, was just another extension of women’s defiance of the male’s control in society. While it might seem stupid now, I happened to agree in full with those who burned their bras. I myself ran a campaign that most would laugh at now: I collected literally thousands of bras over a two-year period that I then burned in one massive bonfire. It was like one huge party the whole night through and the rest of the next day, though – obviously – I was restricted to the night party. Not many women knew what happened to me during the day following the bonfire I’d started, but many of them saw me the next night and I was cheered again for my wild and devious plan to burn all the bras in the world. I still laugh looking back on it; those were two very wild nights. To this day, though, I still don’t wear bras; I supposed I just got so used to not wearing them that I started to enjoy the freedom. Haha…

As for the seventies, I mastered disco and learned to be the female equivalent of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. I won quite a lot of awards and competitions during that time. I didn’t even have to feed on the rich mortals; I made so much money during that time that I just let myself ride on the cash. My other activities, though, weren’t so innocent; they were also rather ironic.

I’m a vampire. I’m essentially a walking corpse. I’m dead. There’s no debating that. Yet in the seventies, I was busy protesting abortion clinics just as much as the next woman. My methods weren’t nearly as extreme as the bombers that sent explosive packages to abortion clinics; I never saw the point of that – it defeated the whole point of the exercise. What I was doing was stealing equipment and charging money to women who wanted to bash it up. It was a way to work out aggression against abortion clinics, but it also got me quite a bit of money. I was also busy spray-painting windows and doors completely black and posting up printed pictures of dead babies and fetuses and such all over the buildings – essentially plastering them with a big ‘fuck you’ message. I remember one time when my girlfriends and I got together one night and totally destroyed this clinic in Toronto; we drove all night and stayed in a hotel the next day. Then during the night we went to the building with baseball bats, rocks, beer bottles, and about a dozen other implements and just beat the crap out of the building. We destroyed everything, inside and out, until there was nothing left but a derelict building that looked like a hurricane had hit it. Then we drove back to Demaitre. Of course, I fed from a couple of people beforehand – unbeknownst to those in my group. I simply disappeared for a bit and then showed up back in the hotel under the wing of the ‘I need some air’ excuse.

The eighties were an interesting time as well, though not quite in the same manner. It was a major coming-out period for many lesbians, gays, and bisexual people. I will admit that I experimented with a few women myself during that period, though it was more out of curiosity than a desire to actually ‘go gay’. Now it seems everyone’s ‘experimenting’, of course; it’s become a fad. But back then, that was highly controversial. I’ll also admit I had fun, though I’ve rarely done a woman since then. Really, I only slept with six women back then, and the last one I slept with was in 1991. Like I said, it was fun, but it wasn’t totally my thing.

Two really good things happened during that time, though: I fell in love with the music and I fell in love with the clothes. I LOVE the eighties look and much of the rock was right up my alley. I have never found anything that I quite like well as I do the look and sound of the eighties. I did get myself two boyfriends during the eighties; they were both bikers, though one I got involved with in 1983 and the other I got involved with in 1989. I also slept Mike Baird of the rock band Journey in 1986 and we were lovers until 1987 when he left the band. He also left me at that point, which really pissed me off. But I let him go, figuring he’d be a nobody after he left anyway and that would show him clearly what he’d missed.

The nineties weren’t nearly as classy as the eighties in my opinion, but a few good things did come of them. CDs became popular, for one. Cell phones were definitely the newest, hottest thing. But rap was totally different from anything I’d heard before. It had some basis in various types of other music such as hip hop and pop, but at the same time it was (as I said) something completely different. There also seemed to be a lot more gangs on the news during the nineties, though in truth it was only a little more dangerous than the eighties. One thing that shocked me when I was visiting New York just for fun was the national news I heard not long before I left. The siege in Waco (Texas) was one of the FBI’s worst fuck-ups in history. That’s probably what I remember most about the United States during that time: stupid shit like that. If the FBI had kept their brains in their heads instead of in their biceps, they might not have gotten so many innocent people killed. Granted, the Branch Dividian Sect as a whole wasn’t exactly innocent, but come on – children and pregnant mothers? It was disgusting at best.

Then there was the Oklahoma City bombing two years later. I caught that on the international news from my house in Demaitre. I couldn’t believe someone could do such a thing. All those people that were killed just baffled me; I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. I still can’t, to tell you the truth. It was only the beginning, of course, but it was nonetheless the most destructive attack on the U. S. that I had ever seen. Of course, the attacks on 9/11 were just as bad (if not worse), but up until 1995 I never would have guessed someone could have the guts to do something so destructive.

I moved in 1999 to a much larger house in a different part of Demaitre. I sold my old house for pretty cheap to a couple who needed a place for their children. I had coerced a mortal man into marrying me and had then fed from and killed him, so money wasn’t a problem for me; the man was old money and didn’t have much family, so everything fell to me. When all was said and done, the house was my only real property left; meanwhile, about sixteen million dollars were in a savings account and another one hundred and fourteen million resided in a checking account.

I laughed at Y2K when it came around because I saw how easy it was to throw mortality back into the dark ages. Me? I could get along fine without technology; I saw its uses and benefits, certainly, but I wasn’t obsessed with it the way most mortals were. Music was my main thing and I could play that in my head if nothing else. But that came and went and nobody got seriously hurt, so I wasn’t too worried about it.

Then 9/11 happened. It’s already been over six years and I still remember clearly the news reports. I watched for months as people tried to put NYC back together. Hurricane Katrina, a few years later, was no better – but it certainly wasn’t as worse; at least that had been a natural disaster. I am deeply disturbed by how destructive mortals can be. The child bombers overseas are no comfort, either.

Well, I suppose there’s not much else to say on my life. I’m presently living in a beautiful eight-bedroom, six-bathroom mansion. I’m a bit of a wild child in that I love to party, but I’ve presently no boyfriend. Maybe I should start looking. Well, at least now I’ll remember what happened during the first half-century or more of my life when I look back on it five hundred years from now. All I have to do is read this, after all…

Took me, what... Five months? But I've read this, and you are approved! Nice history! Loved the detail that went into this. And, better late than never, but welcome to Vital. :D