DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, except for the things that I do.
"I'll live your dreams for you, I'll live your hopes for you, I'll have your children for you, I'll have enough children for the two of us and you can rest in peace knowing that our children and our children's children will be well cared for and will not forget us."
It had been the same story every year since the day he was born.
Do not forget.
NEVER forget.
Victor van Dort the 4th sighed heavily, set the picture he had been staring at down, and rolled over to his stomach. Halloween used to be his favorite holiday. He USED to look forward to the candy and all of the scary costumes. He especially used to look forward to the story. THEIR story. His family's story.
That was before his cat died, run over by a truck.
It was before he grew up, and realized that it could never have happened.
He was terrified of death now, absolutely horrified by it. Just the thought sent shivers up and down the tall boy's spine. His entire family thought it was a little odd, but he didn't care. His family was all a bunch of wackos anyway.
Victor sighed and stared at the photo again. It was ancient, a family heirloom his grandfather had told him, and it was Victor's most prized possession. Oh, he didn't openly admit that he liked it, seeing as he hated the story, but deep down he felt a strange kinship with the lanky, black-haired man grinning sheepishly back at him.
His great-great-great grandfather, Victor van Dort.
A family legend, highly revered and respected.
A man that Victor knew close to nothing about, outside the story.
Ooh, the story. The thought of it made Victor's insides turn. Grandpa would be coming over soon to tell it, wouldn't he? Victor grumbled. Just like every year, he'd sit in his chair near the fire and recite the same words over again…
"Once upon a time, your great-great-great grandfather van Dort married a corpse…"
Rubbish.
How could you marry a corpse? Not only did the thought of being anywhere NEAR a dead woman make his skin crawl, the thought of anyone in their right minds actually believing that the dead can rise again made the temptation to call the friendly men in white coats to take them away very strong.
And yet his entire family believed it. Even his father, who was a medical engineer and a man of science in many ways, listened, transfixed, to the story every year like clockwork. His mother was worse, and she wasn't even RELATED to the man in question! Madness MUST be contagious; it was the only explanation.
Sighing again, he stood up and stretched. He was tall, skinny, and had jet-black hair, traits that all the men of the family seemed to possess. He also seemed to possess the same large, soulful eyes of the original Victor. He laughed quietly. His father used to joke that he was a carbon copy of him, till grandfather sternly said, "He is, you know. A Spitting image." Grandfather had then shook a bony finger at him. "Mark my words, this boy will carry the same fate as his great-great-great grandfather. Victor, stay away from the woods."
Stay away from the woods. Yeah, Victor could do that. For all he knew, there were rapists and murderers in there. It did, however, make watching after his little sister Amelia very hard. Unlike him, she seemed to have no fear of the woods, or anything else for that matter. It was sad, so very, very sad, that if a dead mouse was found in his room that he would scream and call his sister to take care of it while he ran for the bathroom. Grimacing slightly, he sat down on his bed again. That had been yesterday, hadn't it? Victor cursed under his breath. He was a wimp, plain and simple. Amelia loved to tease him for it, but he couldn't deny it. He always had been, and probably always would be.
That made his dreams even stranger.
He had tried to explain them away to being just the effects of food poisoning, anxiety, or his little sister, but they still came. It had been the same thing, every night, for what? Two months? A fleeting glance at the world beyond the grave…it made him wake up screaming. But…for one brief, flickering moment, right before he would wake up in a cold sweat…
It seems all right to die.
Loud pounding on his door jarred him from his thoughts. Victor grumbled. "Amelia, come in before you break the whole blasted thing down."
Giggling, Amelia opened the door and entered. Her curly blonde hair bounced merrily as she jumped onto Victor's bed, and her blue eyes sparkled. "Victor, are you going to take me trick or treating this year?", she asked, looking hopeful. Ah, another family tradition. He rolled his eyes.
"Of course I'm taking you. I take you every year, remember?"
She giggled and poked him in the ribs. "I'm just making sure you don't go without me and steal all the candy before I do, is all."
He rolled his eyes again. "Amelia, I hate candy, remember?" She gave a gasp, then dissolved into another gigglefit. Shaking his head, he stood up. "alright you, go get your costume. If we take too long, we may miss grandpa's story, and we'd HATE for that to happen."
Amelia shrieked with delight. " Grandpa! Oh I can't wait!" She dashed out of his room, and Victor chuckled. Gets her every time.