Nineteenth.
My father used to tell me stories about vampires. He said that the "demons of the night" would come out of hiding once the sun set and would seek out humans, bite them and suck their blood until they died. Then they would have to go back into hiding before the sun rose because if the sunlight touched their skin it would burn them alive leaving only a pile of ash as evidence of their undead existence. That was why I was never allowed out of the house after the sun set. The stories made me laugh, there was no such thing as vampires, and the sun wasn't hot enough to burn anything, it was too small. Besides, who would want to drink blood, I got some in my mouth once when I split my lip and the taste made me gag and wretch.
I went to the well to clean off my face, the man's blood had dried and cracked on my chin, there was blood on the collar of my shirt. After I was cleaned up I walked quietly around the back of the cottage to the little window in the bedroom. Thomas must have pulled the curtains, but there was a slit between the two that never closed completely. I gazed in at my sleeping child, her hair spread wildly around the pillow, her rag doll clutched in one hand and two fingers from the other hand in her mouth. The sheet had been kicked away and her dressing gown was askew. I could have stood there for hours watching her, in fact I probably did.
My heart ached in a way I had never felt before when I finally tore myself away from the window. I knew that I had to find shelter before the sun rose. I turned towards the woods and realized that I could see everything so clearly, the moon was now hidden behind a bank of clouds yet I could make out every branch, every leaf, I even thought I caught sight of a spider's web. What a relief that at least there was some benefit to this new circumstance.
I made my way farther from the house, past the grassy knoll and found an old overturned tree. The tree was huge and the roots had pulled up the ground with it creating a space that I could easily fit into, not be seen and avoid all contact with the sun. I settled in for the day and soon found myself drifting off to sleep.
Nightmares marred the day. I had dreams of bursting into my home and ripping Thomas to pieces, then grabbing Maddie and making a run for it. We would run far away and set ourselves up in a new life. It would have been a dream except the temptation overtook me and no matter how hard I tried to fight it I couldn't resist the urge for blood and I killed my precious child. The images played over and over in my head. At dusk I awoke, shaking and sweating despite the cool air. I wanted desperately to spend another night at Maddie's window, but I was far too frightened to risk hurting her.
I would have to resign myself to the fact that I was no longer a part of her life, and she could no longer be a part of mine. I became so emotional at the thought of living without her that I was incapacitated. I was sobbing and moaning, then a wail from the deepest, darkest part of my being streamed out of my mouth. It scared me, for a moment I didn't know that the sound had even come from me. It was the sound that every grieving mother makes, the death wail.
Two men happened to be nearby hunting, they heard my cries and came to investigate. I heard them coming and tried to muffle my sobs but it was too late, they were too close. As they came around the back of the tree they shined their torches towards me as I shielded my eyes. The older of the two men asked me what I was doing in there, was I hurt? I told them that no, I was not hurt physically. The younger man reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe my eyes. I took it and started to dry my tears but a faint smell made me stop.
I could smell blood and in one of the corners of the cloth and saw a small spot. I felt my teeth seemingly grow and the strange sensation under my eyes. When I looked up at the men they both gasped in horror. I flew up at them from the small hole and attacked each in turn, drinking until they were dry, killing them both. I dragged them deeper into the woods so that I wouldn't have to look at their white, lifeless bodies. When I turned the older man onto his back something struck me. I didn't know if it was the paler of his skin or the marks on his neck, but suddenly my mother's last days came flooding back to me. It hadn't been a bug bite on her neck…it was a vampire.