Once there was a vampire. Obviously he had no mirror to prove it, but he was beautiful. He could never see his own face, but most people treated him as though he were the most beautiful man on earth.
Some people recoiled in horror from him. But he was convinced that these people were jealous of his beauty.
All around him he was surrounded by another type of undead. These undead were terrible, stinking, decaying zombies. They would stagger around grunting and looking for any sign of living flesh to devour. The Vampire was repulsed by them. Instead he tried to surround himself with other vampires. He wanted to surround himself with things that looked like him.
All the while his thirst for blood was insatiable.
One day he met a stranger. This stranger was undead as well. But he was different than the Vampire, or the Zombies. He had all the signs of life, but he insisted that he had died. This undead one spoke in strange riddles. He spoke of dying in order to live. This was strange to the Vampire. He was the living dead, but this did not in any way resemble the life he had once known. Yet this stranger kept speaking of living *after* death, not simply existing as the living dead.
Then the stranger led the Vampire to a mirror. As expected the Vampire did not see his reflection. But then the stranger touched him over his cold and lifeless heart. Gradually the Vampire began to see his reflection. He was as beautiful as he had always imagined. But as the stranger lingered with his hand on the Vampire’s heart, he began to see his flesh fall off. Gaping wounds began to form on his face and his hands. He became more and more grotesque. As he looked in horror he began to realize that he had never been able to see his own reflection because he had refused to see it. The touch of the stranger had allowed him to see himself as he truly was. Could it be that there was never a Vampire, but only another Zombie who refused to see himself as he was?
The stranger whispered “love can heal you.” And with that he vanished.