One dismal rainy evening, deep in the valleys of Transylvania, the sinister castle stood. Staring over the ominous hills, seeming to go perpetually onward into the distance. The infamous count, Dracula, stood among a high balcony atop the gothic home. He looked downward to the earth, where a small helpless village stood pathetically in the misty embrace of the castle. "Look at the ants, my child" He chuckled to a bat hanging from a lantern. Suddenly Dracula's face shifted to a grimace, and his tone became very solemn. "So unaware of their impending demise." He licked his lips unsettlingly. "So much… Blood.", the salivating mouth whispered. It was an ironic time in Transylvania, for Dracula, the vigorous monster of ages, had become frail. The charismatic monster had become a wrinkled decrepit old creature. His hair, which was thin, and unkept now was grey. For he had not tasted the delightful salty flavor of human blood in ages, and this is why he became old and frail. But a new village had moved in now, and he rejoiced that night with fresh (but petty compared to the amount of blood he needed for sustenance) goats blood with his winged children, for tomorrow would bring the greatest pleasures when he invaded the defenseless village.
The next night Dracula prepared for his raid on the village. He put on his fine black coat, made from a dyed wool. "If these morsels are to die, I will at least show my benevolence by allowing their last glances to be at a lovely coat!" Dracula joked to himself. But he was eager to taste the blood of a human and regain his youthfulness so he joked no more and assumed his vampire bat form. The sky was of good fly that night. Not to choppy nor too foggy that he could not see. However, toward the village, there was a fog obscuring the outskirts of the little town. "The perfect fog" Dracula thought. He was able to see enough to spy his victims, but in his bat form, which he'd keep until he was about to bite their throats, when he squeaked or was audible in some way, the fog covered him, and it appeared as though the sound was coming from an incorporeal entity. He squawked upon arrival at the village. Several villagers appeared outside of their huts to see what the noise wasand were dumbfounded to see no trace of a living soul but their neighbors. One villager, who trotted away from the other members of his party following the pale white glow of his lantern, spied Dracula flying toward a small insect. After releasing a tremendous cry he yelled
"BAT! BAT! IT MUST BE THAT MAN! THE MAN FROM THE STORIES! FROM THE CASTLE…." and he went on rambling in fright. But the small village harkened to his cries and within moments chaos had pervaded the mood in the air. The silhouette of the bat excited the crowd, and hearing the tales of " Nosferatu" they made the assumption that this bat was obviously the menacing denizen of the castle that looked angry upon the village. Some tried to retrieve pitchforks. Others dismissed the possibility that a real vampire was thriving in such a dismal land. But the time came, perhaps after an hour, in which the villagers grew tired, and some laid giving up, lethargic on their stoops. However, Dracula too grew weary and he could not sustain the burden of flying. Though he swore he must never manipulate his shape in an area with humans, he had no choice. The village people watched in disgust as the nimble bat transformed gradually into a grotesque hunched over man. "HE WAS RIGHT, HE WAS!" Said the man who appeared to be the village elder. "THERE WAS A BLASTED ONE UH THEMSES IN OUR MIDST!" Dracula was intimidated at first to proceed, but the urge for blood was overwhelming. He caught himself making a grimace and regained his confidence. He assumed an upright posture and said with dignity "My dear people," He said innocently with a malicious grin on his face. "Have no alarm, please. I am but a humble man trying to fight death." He paused, trying to suppress a vile laugh. "And…. You all shall help me." By now the villagers were giving fragmented sentences of astonishment, some comprehending his slick communication, others yet to understand what it was he was saying. But both groups seemed to stand still, as if under a trance. Seduced by some vulturous mystique of the man. "Oh…Yes.. For tonight… My friends… My dear… Friends… You shall give… Your lives.. To me!!!!!!!" Before the crowd regained sense, Dracula thrust his hand into the air. Gesturing toward the crowd. In a fleeting occurrence, several men were thrust upward as well. With no visible killer, all of the air bourn men's necks cracked in half and a grisly rain of blood befell the crowd. They all groaned in utter terror as Dracula cackled maniacally with a fiery lust in his eyes. As the blood fell he stuck out his tongue and indulged in the precious taste he had not perceived in decades. Gradually his shriveled face gained luster. His body was revitalized and his old musty hair grew to a thick black wave. As the village people scattered in pandemonium he pulled them one by one into his fangs by some telekinetic force. As he gestured his hands inward and more of the helpless mice were brought into his fangs, Dracula not only appeared youthful, but gained mental strength as well. His mind games were stronger and he became giddy with evil glee. "Sorry, my friends if these displays of manner are to vulgar for you! You shan't worry of anything very soon!" In all the madness, a party of approximately two dozen villagers slipped away into the forest unseen by the counts deep eyes. Very soon afterward the village was empty of its occupants. An eerie silence hovered around the small area. Dracula alone was left to wallow alone in a ghastly pool of blood. In a small village, in a large quiet valley, there he stood. The illustrious vampire, intense and youthful. The sun was rising quickly. He shuffled his cape and fled to his castle. To be continued…..