The Vampire Inside_(3)

There will be no sex in this part and if it discourages you from reading it; I apologize. Those of you who don’t care, I hope you enjoy. This is a short part.



***A Stranger in the Cemetery***

The sky was darker than normal as I made my way home from school. The wind whipping and howling, scattering dead leaves in all directions. The branches on the naked trees waving as the brisk cool air swirled around me. A loud boom of thunder can be heard in the near distance, followed by a steady mist of rain bouncing off all surfaces.

I looked into the sky, squinting as the raindrops became heavier and noticed the storm will likely intensify; spotting the gray blanket of clouds racing though the grey sky. I needed to hurry to the dry confines of my home before I got drenched. I took a left turn to the.only known shortcut; Rivers Edge Cemetery.

The rusty gate creaked when I opened it which sent chills down my spine. I hated this place as much as everyone else in the neighborhood. The rumors I heard from when I was a child never left me, now filling my head as I looked at the crumbling tombstones and decaying trees.

It was said that on stormy nights, people that trespass into the cemetery never came back out. A mysterious fog or mist could be seen along with the shape of a human like silhouette of someone or something lurking the eerie grounds.. Flickers of light only from which a dancing flame on a candle can create would mysteriously illuminate the dark abandon church, causing it to glow like a jack-o-lantern on Halloween.

I walked by the forgotten and neglected graves and got the eerie feeling someone or something was stalking me; maybe watching me. Goosebumps and cold shivers along with the natural chill in the air made it seem more creepier, therefore making the expose flesh on the back of my neck tingle and the hairs to stiffen. I was beginning to get freaked out. I needed to compose myself before I hurt myself from passing out.

I sat on one of the dozens of broken and crumbling tombstones and just gazed upon my surroundings. This wasn’t my first time here, however as the other people in my town did, I avoided this place like the plague because of the chilling rumors. My eyes scanned the scenery looking for any proof of the rumors, My eyes fix on the old run down church. Its windows boarded and paint peeling. I study the holes in the dark boarded windows looking for any sign of light, and to my relief they remained dark and spooky. My eyes wandered on looking for the heavy fog or mist, the only thing I see is the raindrops falling from the sky. This place looks as lifeless as the bodies buried below.

My fears began to evaporate, realizing my mind is playing tricks about being frighten by a bunch of childhood humorous stories that are told around a campfire and sleepovers. I picked up my backpack from the ground brushing the dead dry leaves off and swung it around my shoulder, shaking my head as I let myself believe this nonsense. The rain started to come down a bit heavier so I picked up the pace walking home.

My mind was racing with all the thoughts about how I let a bunch of garbage scare me and I wasn’t paying attention as I walked with my head down when I suddenly crashed in something, knocking me on my ass to the mud. I looked up into the light fog I haven’t noticed and saw a figure I couldn’t make out. I squinted through the drizzle and swirling fog but I couldn’t make out the silhouette standing above me. It offered out a hand to me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled feeling embarrassed about my clumsiness, reaching for the strangers hand.

“No problem, but you should be more careful. You could’ve hurt someone or yourself there sonny,” He replies pulling me to my feet.

The stranger doesn’t let my hand go right away but something felt mysterious about it. I took a quick peek at the hand in mine but it looked normal except for a long fingernail on his index finger which I found odd. I quickly shift my gaze to his face, and it frightened me more then I was earlier. The man had red eyes and his pupils were slitted like a cats. His face was pale as the full moon. He has black lips with tiny red stains randomly placed. His hair is a pitch black along with light streaks of gray and white. His lips curled into a smile showing yellow decaying teeth, which also have red stains.

“Forgive my matters young lad. My name is Fredrick Von Zepher III and I reside at this residence,” The man said in a crackling voice, lifting an arm towards the church, gesturing he lived there. “I welcome all visitors.”

Fredrick hasn’t loosened his grip on my hand. My voice trembles. “Nice to meet you sir, I’m John Timmons.”

“Well John, since we have been formally acquainted; please care to join me inside?” Fredrick nods with a creepy smile, nodding towards the gloomy church.

I gave the man another quick glance over as millions of questions about his appearance came to mind, let alone the unfamiliar accent he spoke.