The howling wind shook the old victorian windows that were barely held in place by their rusty aging hinges as Jen scanned the room she was currently was inhabiting for the night. She knew she was delusional for accepting her best friend's dare to stay the night in their town's famous haunted Victorian home. She knew the tales of the house seemed so ridiculous; there is no way in hell there is a vampire living here. She recalled the tale to be a sad one, which sort of pulled at her heart strings. A man vowed to protect his fiancé until the end of time, but another woman had other things in mind. The tale explains this other woman turned the man and did away with his fiancé and till this day he lives in this old aging victorian mansion, alone, since his fiancé was gone. The other woman had fled for fear of what the man would do.
Jen shook her head trying to rid the tale from her head and rolled her sleeping bag out. There was a bed still occupying the room, but there was no way she was going to sleep on it. Bed bugs, she shuddered. Pulling out a small pillow from her bag, she buried herself in her sleeping bag, and rested her head against the small black pillow. "Just close your eyes and imagine you're at home, Jen. You're not in a creepy old victorian mansion, you're at home in your own bed." She closed her eyes and fortunately for her sleep consumed her.
He stood in the empty closet and wondered who the stranger was. He could smell her frangrance of strawberries, however her blood smelled more enticing. Noticing the girl's face when she just turned around onto her other side in slumber, he felt his eyes widen. Was that his fiancé? It couldn't be, for she passed away centuries ago. He mumbled her name quietly to himself. "Amara.."