switch.
With a pop and hum, dangling electric bulbs sparked to life one by one. The slurping noises briefly gave way to a growling hiss.
Alex and Sam crept forward, makeshift weapons in hand. Sarah tiptoed behind. White-faced, Anne stood with Emily by the door. No agitated horse head poked from the last stall, and it was here that the boys stopped. The pony in the adjacent pen reared and bucked, wild with terror, its muzzle streaked with foam.
Alex gestured to Sam to make ready, then pulled the stall door open.
The thing inside struggled with a thrashing horse, crouched low over its long neck and head. The boy’s skin glowed milky in the dim light. His church jacket was muddy and his white shirt soaked red. Bone-colored nails grown into long talons gripped the dying animal. The boy’s face, buried in living flesh, lifted to reveal features roughhewn in approximation of life. He resembled Charles, or perhaps his ghoulish doppelgänger . Black lifeless eyes bored into Sarah’s soul. His bloody distended mouth snarled, long canines protruding from rows of teeth too numerous for the jaw, then he bent back to his meal.
Sam stepped into the stall, raised the shovel high, and brought it down sideways onto the creature’s skull with the full force of his weight. There was a sickening crunching sound and a spray of blood as the steel blade chopped into the boy’s cranium and sheared off a huge flap of skin, hair, and ear.
The creature emitted a hideous shriek and reached to yank the shovel from Sam’s hands, nearly toppling him. Moving unnaturally fast, he broke the wooden shaft in two and sprang upward. A mixture of fluid and bone rained downward.
Sarah looked up to see the thing scuttle across the ceiling, leaping from rafter to rafter. In seconds, he’d traveled past them to the door. Anne threw herself and Emily into a bale of hay as the thing dropped, then fled outside into the night.
Sarah’s breath burned in and out so hard her throat hurt. Her worldview churned around the inside of her skull. She tried to readjust and realign, to make sense of it. Now she knew, with total and complete certainty, that monsters were real.
Everyone else seemed just as dazed. By the exit, Anne rose, dusting hay from her skirts.
“Oh my God, blessed Jesus, what kind of crazy man was that?”
“Let’s go after it!” Sam said.
“No need right now,” Alex said. “I know where we can find it later.”
They all looked at him.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Sarah said.
Alex sighed. “That was a vrykolakas , what you’d call a vampire. A young one, buried only yesterday, risen for the first time this night or the last.”
“Huh?” Sam said.
“Like Dracula?” Emily asked.
“Perhaps, but this one is so young it’s feral, like a rabid dog.” Alex was looking at Sarah. “The hunger for blood has driven it mad, so it doesn’t talk or think. It only kills and feeds. Evil is like a seed: it needs time to grow after it’s planted.”
“What are you even talking about?” Anne said.
“Dracula’s the villain from this great novel the librarian thought I’d like,” Emily said. “He’s an evil Romanian count who’s dead but drinks the blood of beautiful—”
“Mom would be furious to find you reading that nonsense,” Anne said.
“Nonsense?” Alex said. “Do you believe your eyes? Is the blood in our hair a figment of your imagination? Vampires are rare, perhaps, but they’re real enough. The world is full of the unknown, swimming like fish under the surface of normalcy.”
“I was over here. I didn’t see it,” Anne said.
“Why didn’t you tell us before, Alex?” Sarah said.
“Should I have said, ‘Hello, my name’s Alex, I believe in vampires’?”
“The man has a point,” Sam said.
“I knew it was Charles,” Emily said.
“How’d this happen?” Sarah asked. “I mean, he was a normal boy, then he was dead, and now he is… whatever he is. How?”
“Created by another
With a pop and hum, dangling electric bulbs sparked to life one by one. The slurping noises briefly gave way to a growling hiss.
Alex and Sam crept forward, makeshift weapons in hand. Sarah tiptoed behind. White-faced, Anne stood with Emily by the door. No agitated horse head poked from the last stall, and it was here that the boys stopped. The pony in the adjacent pen reared and bucked, wild with terror, its muzzle streaked with foam.
Alex gestured to Sam to make ready, then pulled the stall door open.
The thing inside struggled with a thrashing horse, crouched low over its long neck and head. The boy’s skin glowed milky in the dim light. His church jacket was muddy and his white shirt soaked red. Bone-colored nails grown into long talons gripped the dying animal. The boy’s face, buried in living flesh, lifted to reveal features roughhewn in approximation of life. He resembled Charles, or perhaps his ghoulish doppelgänger . Black lifeless eyes bored into Sarah’s soul. His bloody distended mouth snarled, long canines protruding from rows of teeth too numerous for the jaw, then he bent back to his meal.
Sam stepped into the stall, raised the shovel high, and brought it down sideways onto the creature’s skull with the full force of his weight. There was a sickening crunching sound and a spray of blood as the steel blade chopped into the boy’s cranium and sheared off a huge flap of skin, hair, and ear.
The creature emitted a hideous shriek and reached to yank the shovel from Sam’s hands, nearly toppling him. Moving unnaturally fast, he broke the wooden shaft in two and sprang upward. A mixture of fluid and bone rained downward.
Sarah looked up to see the thing scuttle across the ceiling, leaping from rafter to rafter. In seconds, he’d traveled past them to the door. Anne threw herself and Emily into a bale of hay as the thing dropped, then fled outside into the night.
Sarah’s breath burned in and out so hard her throat hurt. Her worldview churned around the inside of her skull. She tried to readjust and realign, to make sense of it. Now she knew, with total and complete certainty, that monsters were real.
Everyone else seemed just as dazed. By the exit, Anne rose, dusting hay from her skirts.
“Oh my God, blessed Jesus, what kind of crazy man was that?”
“Let’s go after it!” Sam said.
“No need right now,” Alex said. “I know where we can find it later.”
They all looked at him.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Sarah said.
Alex sighed. “That was a vrykolakas , what you’d call a vampire. A young one, buried only yesterday, risen for the first time this night or the last.”
“Huh?” Sam said.
“Like Dracula?” Emily asked.
“Perhaps, but this one is so young it’s feral, like a rabid dog.” Alex was looking at Sarah. “The hunger for blood has driven it mad, so it doesn’t talk or think. It only kills and feeds. Evil is like a seed: it needs time to grow after it’s planted.”
“What are you even talking about?” Anne said.
“Dracula’s the villain from this great novel the librarian thought I’d like,” Emily said. “He’s an evil Romanian count who’s dead but drinks the blood of beautiful—”
“Mom would be furious to find you reading that nonsense,” Anne said.
“Nonsense?” Alex said. “Do you believe your eyes? Is the blood in our hair a figment of your imagination? Vampires are rare, perhaps, but they’re real enough. The world is full of the unknown, swimming like fish under the surface of normalcy.”
“I was over here. I didn’t see it,” Anne said.
“Why didn’t you tell us before, Alex?” Sarah said.
“Should I have said, ‘Hello, my name’s Alex, I believe in vampires’?”
“The man has a point,” Sam said.
“I knew it was Charles,” Emily said.
“How’d this happen?” Sarah asked. “I mean, he was a normal boy, then he was dead, and now he is… whatever he is. How?”
“Created by another
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