A Vampire at My Window

I awoke in my bed.  It was dark except for the moonlight streaming in through the window.

There was a vampire at my window.

The vampire was clawing and scratching at the seals.  The vampire wanted to come inside.  The vampire wanted to get to me.  I know, because it was looking at me.  Cold, black eyes.  Lifeless and unblinking.

I flew from my bed and made for the stairs.  It was two flights to mother’s room.  I burst inside and shook her violently.

“Mother, mother, wake up!”  I pleaded.

Mother rolled over and looked at me.  Groggily she spoke.

“What is it?  What is the matter?”

*      *      *

I awoke in my bed.  It was dark except for the moonlight streaming in through the window.  The window was shut tight.

I was alone.

I could hear music.  Music from faraway.  Closer it came.  And closer still—from the radio on the desk.  I sat up in my bed and fumbled in the darkness.  When I found it I pulled.

CLICK-CLICK-CLICK

The drawstring did not work.  It shed no light for me.  Burned out perhaps.

I threw back the covers and slipped out of bed.  The floor was cold and unforgiving.  I carefully made my way across the room to the desk.  I flipped the switch on the radio and still the music played.  I spun the dial to find another station but the music did not change.  Attempts to lower the volume had the same effect.  No effect at all.

I made for the stairs.  It was two flights to mother’s room.  I walked inside and shook her gently.

“Mother, mother, wake up.”  I whispered.

Mother rolled over and looked at me.  Groggily she spoke.

“What is it?  What is the matter?”

*      *      *

I awoke in my bed.  It was dark except for the moonlight streaming in through the window.  It was cold and I could see my breath.  The window was open.

There was a vampire at my window.

The vampire was crawling inside, like a spider down the wall.  It wanted to get to me.  I know, because it was looking at me.  Cold, black eyes.  Lifeless and unblinking.

I flew from my bed and made for the stairs.  It was two flights to mother’s room.  I burst inside and shook her violently.

“Mother, mother, wake up!”  I pleaded.

Mother rolled over and looked at me.  Groggily she spoke.

“What is it?  What is the matter?”

*      *      *

I awoke in my bed.  It was dark except for the moonlight streaming in through the window.  The window was shut tight.

I was alone.

I could hear music.  Music from faraway.  Closer it came.  And closer still—from the radio on the desk.  I sat up in my bed and fumbled in the darkness.  When I found it I pulled.

CLICK-CLICK-CLICK

The drawstring did not work.  It shed no light for me.  Burned out perhaps.

I threw back the covers and slipped out of bed.  The floor was cold and unforgiving.  I did not bother with the radio.  Instead I made for the stairs.  It was two flights to mother’s room.  I walked inside and shook her gently.

“Mother, mother, wake up.”  I whispered.

Mother did not wake.  I shook her again.

“Mother?”  I said.  Louder.  Still mother did not stir.

I rolled mother over to find a shriveled husk.  Her throat had been torn out and crimson stained the sheets.  Only then did I notice the blood that was pooling at my feet.  I screamed.

*      *      *

I awoke in my bed.  It was dark except for the moonlight streaming in through the window.  It was cold and I could see my breath.  The window was open.

There was a vampire in my bed.

The vampire was hovering over me.  Its fangs glistened in the moonlight and it was hungry.  I know because I could see the hunger in its eyes.  Cold, black eyes.  Lifeless and unblinking.

Those terrible eyes rolled over white.

*      *      *

The boy awoke in his bed.  It was dark except for the moonlight streaming in through his window.

I watched him through the window.

I clawed and scratched at the seals.  I wanted to get inside.  I wanted to get to him and he knew it.  I know because he was looking at me.  Deep, soulful eyes.  Full of life and fear.

Copyright © 2010 G M Whitehair

HOME

FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestEmail

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Archives

Categories