The first I met him, I was lost in the Romanian woods. I had travelled to the countryside of Romania for a pleasant vacation away from the work back in England at the age of twenty-six, only to get lost and exhausted after a long search for the small town I had decided to stay in. It was a small, old, cozy village that would provide me the rest I needed, if I could find it. The road to the village had been blocked by a fallen tree, and the cab had just dropped me off in front of the fallen tree, and drove off despite my protests. Although I was left with my mouth hanging open in dismay, I started to walk up the road; I had to reach the town soon – the sun was slowly creeping down. All seemed fine as I walked along the road, until I reached a fork with no signs. I went right – and got lost. It must've been the wrong turn.

The path I had chosen was soon engulfed by a tunnel of tall trees, and the path got more and more unclear as the road turned from gravel to dirt. Thus, the falling red and orange leaves eventually cloaked whole road, and my only clue of navigating my way was the small gaps between two rows of trees that seemed like a path. The sun was setting, painting the sky in a beautiful orange shade, and I started to worry. Being lost in the thick forest at night did not seem safe nor pleas ant. Especially when my legs and arms were cramped and throbbing in pain due to about an hour or so of walking while dragging my heavy luggage along on the carpet of leaves with goodness knows what underneath.

For a rest, I stopped and stared into what seemed like an endless void of trees. Hopeless and alone, I stared into the sky, which had turned into a beautiful shade of dark blue with white sparkling dots scattered over it. A thick tuft of clouds soon curtained the stars and the moon that dimly lit the night sky. In the darkness, I looked back down to the unclear path I must walk on. The path that seemed endless, the path that seemed to lead me to nowhere.

The path that led me to him.

Picking myself back up, I started to walk once again. My legs moved without me really thinking about it. I was like a robot designed to walk and walk only; I have reached the point of exhaustion where I could not feel or think. The sound of my footsteps sounded distant, and my own breathing too seemed like another's. At least, until I saw the figure of a man walking towards me. A man! A person from the village, perhaps. Just that thought brought my spirits and energy flowing back in excitement.

"Hey! Hey! Hello!" I shouted, waving my hand frantically in the air, hoping the man understands English. "I'm- I'm lost. Good sir – or madam – could you please lead to the nearest village? I'm supposed to be there by sunset…"

The figure seemed to be startled by me, and as the stranger walked closer and closer, the figure became clearer. It was clear that it was a man - a young man. The cloud above started to shift once more, and the moonlight shone down on us, and revealed the man's red eyes, strawberry blond hair – and a fang poking out of his mouth. The red old-fashioned coat he was wearing swayed in as the wind blew past us, and the chain of the small clock inside his chest pocket made a metallic sound as the wind picked it up and dropped it, while the small black hat with a white and red ribbon around it sitting on his head miraculously stayed on his head without being blown away.

I froze on the spot, staring into the man's gleaming red eyes that were rapidly scanning me. I was speechless. No, this man was not an albino – his hair was not white –then, why does he have a red eye? Millions of thoughts rushed through my head, and the word 'vampire' came into my head. No, it could not be. They were just creatures in fictional books, they weren't real, were they? As the thoughts regarding the word 'vampire' came into mind, the clouds turned the lights off once again, and the man or vampire started to slowly make its way towards me. I walked backwards, stumbling on my luggage. I yelped as the… stranger started to speed up, then turned around before running for my life, abandoning my luggage.

'English man found dead in Romanian Forest – bled to death.'

'English man gone missing in Romanian Woods.'

'Vampire attack on English tourist in Romanian Woods?'

The many article titles popped up in my mind, making my legs move faster and faster. My senses were heightened. I could hear my quick footsteps and the leaves crunching beneath me, my heavy breathing, and the even quicker footsteps of the supposed vampire behind me like I had a headphone on, booming the sounds intro my ear. My whole life flashed in front of me, as death knocked on my doorstep. My heart dropped when I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. I turned to see the 'vampire' standing with in front of me, and tripped in shock.

"Please! Please don't kill me!" I pleaded, as I fell onto the floor. "I have a life to get back to all the way back in England!"

"What? I'm not going to kill you – why would you think – oh, yeah," the 'vampire' said. "I'm not a vampire. It's okay, many make that mistake. Here um, I only have one fang, see?"

He lifted his lips with his hand and showed me his teeth and his single fang.

"Red eyes are just a genetic mutation," he explained. "Ah – here, your luggage." He gave me the luggage I had left behind to run. How he ran so fast whilst carry my luggage? Perhaps he is just very athletic, or so I thought at the time; though I can't tell you the real reason just yet. It'd be a spoiler.

"You said you're going the village, right? I live there. I was out on patrol… say, why didn't you take the shorter route?" he asked, "Actually, why aren't you on a taxi?"

I told him my story, and apologized for mistaking him for a vampire. The young man laughed.

"I told you, lots of people make that mistake. Ah! Where are my manners, my name is Vladimir Popescu," the man, Vladimir Popescu, said, holding out a hand and helping me up.

"Courtney Kirkland," I responded, shaking his hand.

"Kirkland? What a coincidence. One of my best friends from England's surname is also Kirkland!" Popescu smiled.

"Well Kirkland is not a rare surname, at least I think it isn't," I said, "Now, er, the village-"

"Oh yes! Sorry, you must be exhausted. Here, follow me. I know a shortcut."

With that, he winked, and led me to the village, while chattering about how it is wonderful to have a visitor; they hadn't had a visitor in years. The village that we finally arrived in looked beautiful under the moonlight peeking over the clouds, or perhaps it looked more beautiful because of how exhausted I was. As soon I stepped into the other side of the wooden fence surround the village, all eyes turned to Popescu and I, and their eyes twinkled in delight. The people of the village greeted me with glee and made me a part of their village. Apologizing for my trouble that wasn't their fault, they stuffed me with delicious Romanian food. By the time I was in bed, I felt like my stomach about to burst, and had met everyone in the small, welcoming village.

Greeting the village after a proper rest the next morning in the bright sunlight was a whole new feeling, different to how I greeted the village the last night. The sunlight beamed down on the wooden rooves of the village. The warm colour palette of the village felt more welcoming than the cold, bluish palette of the night. With the warm, happy feeling dwelling in my heart, I started my day in the village.

The following week in the small town of got me to know Popescu. Popescu seemed like an authority figure, as all the villagers came to talk to him about many things – though I understood none of their conversations; they spoke in Romanian. Popescu was always rushing from place to place, helping people. And at night he patrolled around the village, like how he did the night I got lost. I wondered how such a young man became the leader of the small town. Perhaps his father was the previous leader. Speaking of his father, by the third day in the village I had noticed that no-one speaks of Popescu's family. He did not seem to have one; there were no other Popescu in the village. I thought Popescu's family lived out of the village, but I was proven wrong when an old man approached me on my fifth day in the village.

"Wonderin' about his family?" he asked me in English. I silently nodded. "Well he does not have one- none that we know of. He appeared out of no-where one day and settled in. For such a young man, he's very wise. After two years of living in our town he was our leader. And mind you, it's been five years since he came here – and he hasn't aged a bit. He doesn't talk a lot about himself – all we know is that he came from the city and has no family. But all of that can be lies."

"What might you be implying, good sir?" I asked politely.

"He says he is not a vampire. Fair enough; he does walk in the sun without sparkling or burning. Though don't you think that he is, at least, not human?" the old man mischievously smiled, and walked off, leaving me behind in the cold night air, with the flame of curiosity ignited. All the questions in my mind from the chase in the night arose again. Is Vladimir Popescu really human? Who is he, where does he really come from? Is the 'Vladimir Popescu' I know a mask of another person… or thing?

Some of these questions were answered in the future, some to this day I do not know the answer of. Though the questions that were answered were only answered after I left the village. Even with the curiosity boiling inside my young self, my time in the village was no doubt splendid. All the stress, pressure, and anger bottled up in me was flushed out, and when the time for me to leave came, the villagers bombarded me with treats. With the mass amount of homemade food and other goods squashed into my luggage, I waved goodbye, and departed without my questions answered.

That was the first time I saw Vladimir Popescu. The next time I saw him, I was not in Romania.

The second time I saw Vladimir Popescu, a time of eight years had passed, and I was in my mid-thirties. The meeting was completely unexpected. Munching on the box of chocolate I had treated myself with my eyes fixed on the delicious small sweet, brown dessert, my feet carried me across the street. I feet constantly moved until I bumped into someone with a familiar face.

"Sorry!" I shouted out, stumbling backwards. Looking up from my box of chocolate, I saw a very familiar pair of unforgettable red eyes - the pair of eyes that once made me shiver in fear and run for my life eight years ago was once again in front of me.

"Mr Popescu…?" I muttered, walking backwards to get a clear, full-body look of the man standing in front of me. This was definitely the same man I had met eight years ago in Romania. I could be a hundred percent sure as he had not changed a bit. His hair, his eyes, his height… everything about him was exactly the same as the last time I saw him; it was as if he had not aged a bit.

'And mind you, it's been five years since he came here – and he hasn't aged a bit' – the man's words from eight years ago flashed across my mind.

Popescu's eyes scanned me, and his eyes opened wide in realization.

"…You're Courtney Kirkland!" Popescu exclaimed. "How many years has it been? Four?"

"Eight, actually," I said, putting the old man's words aside, and held out a hand to shake – which Popescu gladly and enthusiastically shook. "What brings you here to London?"

"Ah well," Popescu said, and patted the back of the blonde man standing next to him, whom I had noticed before. "I came to visit my buddy here. Arthur, this is Courtney Kirkland. Courtney, this is Arthur Kirkland."

Remembering what Popescu said about my surname when we first met, and shook the other Kirkland's hand. "He told me about you," I smiled, looking into his forest green eyes.

"He told me about you too," the other Kirkland smiled back. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you too," I politely said, then held out my box of chocolates. "Chocolate?" I offered to the two men.

"Thank you, but we won't take one. We must be off," Arthur Kirkland said, checking his phone for the time.

"Oh yes, almost forgot… you see, we had a, um, College Reunion. And it seems like one of our friends is lost," Popescu said, and gave an awkward smile, which revealed his fang. "If you see a man wearing a purple aristocratic coat, black square half-glasses with black hair with a weird curl and violet eyes, please direct him to, erm, 33 Wellington Street."

"Sure," I smiled, and exchanged goodbyes with the men, and watched the two walk away into the crowd of London. Only after the two was out of sight did I think about exchanging phone numbers. Feeling unsatisfied at myself, I sighed and turned around, and continued on my journey home with the old man's words coming back. What really was Vladimir Popescu? No matter what you do with modern technology, it seemed impossible to stay as young as him. Popescu had to be nearing his mid-thirties at least, yet he did not look a day over twenty. Waving goodbye to the biggest mystery to me once again, I moved on with my life.

The third and last time I met Vladimir Popescu was when a question was answered. I had hit the age of sixty, and had carried aged body back to Romania, back to the same place I had spent a week all those years ago. The village was exactly as I remembered it. The warm, cozy cottages greeted me once more. Of course, none of them remembered me; it had been a long time ago after all. Though a very few did remember my name. To those who remembered me, I asked them where Popescu was; I had not seen him around in the small, quaint village for the whole day.

"He left for the city a long, long time ago," a shopkeeper answered. "A few years after your visit, actually."

That one piece of news let me down greatly, and the next morning, I headed off to the city as well. Having given up meeting the mysterious Vlarimir Popescu, I toured Romania to its best. I toured the historical sites such as Lipscani and the Place of Justice. But sometimes, you tend to be unable to find something when desperately looking for it, yet finding it when you have given up. When I was taking a rest near Manuc's Inn, I caught a glimpse of a familiar hat passing by. My old legs immediately stood up and my eyes searched for the hat- the small hat with a red and white ribbon flowing from it. The hat that belonged to Vladimir Popescu. And there he was. Vladimir Popescu was standing in the crowd in front of the red traffic light, looking exactly the same as he had decades ago. I stared at him, unable to figure out what I should be feeling. Surprise? Fascination? Unbelieving? Whatever it was glued me onto the ground.

I tried to shout out his name yet it seemed as if someone had gotten a remote to mute my voice. My mouth opened and closed several times without any sound coming out of it. I only came back to my senses when Popescu started to walk away, as the light turned green.

"No! Wait!" my voice finally returned, and I was unglued from my spot in front of the bench. "Wait!" my legs ran fast – as fast as the night I first met Popescu. The world seemed to move in slow motion as I rushed my old self to get closer and closer to Popescu. Pushing through the crowd, I shouted out his name.

"Vladimir Popescu!"

Then, he turned around, and stopped in in tracks as his eyes landed on me.

"Courtney Kirkland, nice to meet you again," I smiled, and held out a hand. Popescu was speechless. "Shall we get off the zebra crossing first?" I suggested, and he nodded.

"So, Mr Popescu, I see you haven't aged," I said.

"Yes. I have not. You probably want answers, but I am very sorry to tell you that I can't give you an answer to who, or what I am," Popescu whispered as he smiled, his fang that once terrified me visible once more. "Though, I assure you, I am not a vampire. Now please, do not tell anyone about me. I'd rather not be sent to a laboratory." With that he winked and started to walk away.

"Wait!" I called, and he turned around to face me. "A hint…please."

The man's smile became mischievous.

"You'll walk right over it. So why bother?"

Not knowing what to say, I blinked, and Vladimir Popescu was no longer in front of me. Frantically looking around for the man, my mind processed his last words.

'You'll walk right over it.'

I had not a clue about what he meant by that. So many more questions were still unanswered, yet I knew that one had been answered.

Vladimir Popescu was not human; he hadn't aged a bit in almost forty years. Nor was he a vampire; he stood in the sun, ate garlic, and only had one fang. Then, if he isn't a human or a vampire, what was he? I thought and thought about it all the way back to the hotel, to the airport, back to England… and to this day. Only very recently did I come up with an answer, that was somewhat satisfactory.

I, age 94, am now in my bed, is looking over the world that changed so much during my time alive. Vladimir Popescu was still out there somewhere, looking exactly the same since the last time I saw him. It was very obvious to me that Popescu was immortal. I wish to meet him once again, before I go, even if I know it is impossible. I wish for him to validate my theory.

My theory that he is, Romania. That he is, the nation itself. 'You'll walk right over it' was indeed a hint – I was walking on Romania the country. I know it sounds crazy, unbelievable. You probably think that I am just the weird old person nextdoors. But, as soon as I thought about the idea of 'personified nations,' I had a gut feeling that I was correct. I do not know how they exist, nor do I know if the idea of it is true. Yet, I have chosen to believe in my intuition; it has made the feeling of accomplishment go away, and now I feel much lighter. The questions has been lifted, and now only one out of numerous questions remain: 'am I correct?' If I am, I will never know.

Perhaps, one day, I will see him again.

Perhaps, one day, I will be reincarnated to be able to see him once more.

Perhaps, one day, I will get my final answer.

-0-0-0-

"Courtney Kirkland is gone," 'Arthur Kirkland' said, and sipped his tea while looking at a stack of death notices in his office.

"Who?" 'Vladimir Popescu' asked, then remembered the human that he had met thrice, the human with the flame of curiosity burning inside. "Ah, that person."

Vladimir Popescu stood on his spot, and wondered if the human had figured it out in the end.

"Maybe we'll see Courtney Kirkland again one day," Popescu said. "Under a different name, under a different family, under a different nationality. Maybe then I'll give her the answer."

"You know we can't do that, Romania," Kirkland said.

"I know, England. Though it would be nice to meet Courtney again."

Popescu, or rather, Romania, looked out of the window to look at the same city Courtney Kirkland looked at before her passing, and smiled, revealing his fang.

-0-0-0-

This was my English Narrative Homework for school. The theme was 'Mythical Creatures.' As soon as I heard that, myThe teacher recommended writing under 500 words but... this is over 3000. Welp. I couldn't stop writing. I probably need to write another thing thats not fanfiction and is under 500 words. *sigh*

-PotterheadNo.04