《Frost bitten》 Chapter 1 Towards the end of December, my father, brother and I found ourselves in rare company. The exorcist was playing in the palisades that night. Which would make us one of the first to see it. Not only in our town, but the whole world. Another rarity would be the towns, first, early showing of a movie that wasn¡¯t three to four weeks late. Tonight was crowded, loud, and absolutely reeked of butter. I couldn¡¯t stop moving and taking in the scenery. Ready to witness what critics were hailing as the scariest movie to date. My father, in full police garb, walked proudly up to the booth. His uniform, was what Charlie would call a golden ticket. A thing to change one¡¯s life. Next to him were my brother and I marching proudly to the front of the line, where we were practically given the tickets out of respect to my fathers duties as a man of the law. To the side of us were protesters, protesting the movies release, calling it the work of the devil. That this town would soon fall victim to a curse, brought upon the evils of horrid cinema. My father scowled, remarking that some of the men in the crowd would fit better in the factory¡¯s that were low on production. The leader of the lynch mob was, the Preacher himself. A man we, kids, detested. A bitter man, whose teeth were as rotted as his attitude to the world. We were told by adults to steer clear of him and that family if his. I wasn¡¯t curious about the preacher man, but about what was behind him. The fantastical, vibrant movie posters that showcased the upcoming or in theatre movies showing. It was one of my favorite parts about the theatres. The pretty pictures lined up in rows, each showing a glimpse of the movies themselves. One of the movies showing tonight was previously hemmed as the scariest movie ever. Which was Psycho, by Hitchcock. I had the same poster, in my room, as the one up on the showcase. When I slipped my brothers grip, as they waited in line for drinks and popcorn. I hurried over to the showcase, where I spotted a girl. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Her red hair came down to the middle of her back, and she wore a giant white coat, that was pale in contrast to the skin on her hair and hands. She wore the same nurse shoes that my mother fashioned, and I thought it funny that my mother wore the same shoes as a child. She turned, responding to the crowd where the Preacher was yelling with all his might. It seemed like she was responding to something the preacher was yelling. I noticed her eye downcast, glossing over her rosy cheeks where single strands of hair danced. Color, the same as her hair, blushed on her cheeks, and I found it fascinating. My father, the towns local hero, the sheriff, called out to me, becoming for me to come back over. It was then that the girl noticed me staring directly at her. I blushed on my own, turning my gaze to the poster beside her. Night of the strangler was still up, and I thought the cover terrifying, but before I could really examine the movie poster more. I glanced back over and watched the girl look around, before trotting over towards me. In a moment of realization, I sensed a panic in her gaze, and a stiffness to her already ridged movements. Finding myself in the same panic, I wondered what could possibly be the matter. Then as if prompting her departure, she hurried over to me, which prompted Another shout towards her. It was a quick read, but I noticed how scared and fraught she looked. My father called out once again, before I noticed that me and the girl were face to face. Up close we were practically the same height. I also noticed what seemed to be dirt on the bridge of her nose. Above that her eyes were an unruly green. She hurriedly and frantically looked around. The crowd was bustling making its way through and around us. Adults were wanting both our attention. When she brought her face close to mine; I thought she was going to yell or scold me like the hostile crowd was doing each passer by. Instead she whispered into my ear. My eyes widened, and when I saw her face once again, her glassy emerald eyes, were wet. I turned to face my father, and my brother was already pulling me by my hand. When I looked back for the last time, I found myself searching for the girl. To make sure what happened was real, what she said, was real. I didn¡¯t spot her in the, already massive , outpouring crowd. Chapter 2 Closing my eyes that night, I didn¡¯t find the demon from the nightmarish kitchen scene. No, staring back, even in the confines of my own room, were the emerald green eyes haunting me like a message from beyond. I hardly payed any attention to the movie after what she whispered to me. The words stayed in my mind long past the movies run time. ¡®Vampires live in the old house on Tremaine. Come by after midnight and I¡¯ll show you.¡¯ The fleeting image of her face stuck in my mind. Those wet eyes, her small mouth, that wild hair. I painted her picture in my mind, trying to pinpoint her likeness to any of the girls in my class or school. She wasn¡¯t there. Not in the school yard, cafeteria, or any of my 6th grade classes. I thought her a bit younger than myself, due to her childishly round face. So, the fantastical element to what she told me were obviously the whims of a child, or I wanted to believe that. It was her tone and the seriousness of her face that told me otherwise. The clock on my wall, ticked past 11:00, which got me thinking about that old house on Tremaine. The neighborhood kids nicknamed it, the old church. In part to its massive structure, and domed roof top. There were crosses on the windows and hanging around the house like it was its own little church. The entirety of the yard, including the house gave off a very religious sect feeling. Although nobody went there to pray. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The entirety of the block was off putting, the old church topping the cake. Rumors surrounded the place, like spirits. Some of the rumors had the old preacher living by himself, taking to the houses haunted atmosphere, making him the crazy man we thought he was. Others had the preacher with a family. Which made me think back to him calling the girl over, and how she might be related. Those rumors included the family of course. Stories that never strayed or stayed true to the original telling, that neither of us ever remember telling. There was one about a boy, the preachers son. We thought it a cautionary tale to get kids to stop playing in the streets. Supposedly the boy, unsupervised, ran out into the street, chasing a ball when a semi truck rumbled through and tore through him, leaving odd pieces to find, for the man and his wife. Another, which was a favorite among us all, was the wife¡¯s tale. Hearing this one gave me nightmares, due to its graphic nature. It included a false alarm burglary, and a case of mistaken identity that led to a child of the household being strangled to death. The wife¡¯s deteriorating mental was to blame, and what this one served was to keep us away from the house, less it happen to one of us. All tales were grossly exaggerated many times over, with differences appearing in the details each time. No one really knew the truth behind the rumors, nor did anyone have one about a little girl being in that house, or Vampires. Chapter 3 Maybe it was curiosity, or not wanting to be alone in my room, but I needed to get out after retelling myself those ghost stories. I knew the only way to displace the thoughts was to go to that old house on Tremaine, the old church, and dispel any crazy notion I was building up too. It was easy to sneak out, especially when your mother was a heavy sleeper, and your father was on night patrol. My brother, also, never bothered to check in on me. So, I found myself on a shadowy path to the old church. The old church as it stood, was covered in shadows, stemming from a gangly group of oak trees.their branches looked like withered old fingers, from passing fall. The iron gate, stood at least 10 feet tall, and was overrun by vines, and a green moss that discolored parts of the iron gate itself. It was a risk to touch the oxidizing gate, so I kept my hands to myself, using my eyes to scours the triumphant yard. What parts I could see were covered in shadows, and the only light was near the front door that stood oafishly strong. Seeing the place from up close made me realize just how reminiscent to a church it was. Although the namesake, and its closeness to a man named the preacher, the place felt inherently evil. I was on the verge of turning back, scared to move any further or beyond the gate, when an a rabbit scurried out of a patch on the far east side of the gate. The brush came loose, and under that was a small, child size, entrance into the yard. Instead of rushing in, I waited, stashing my bike into the nearby bushes, holding out hope that I wouldn¡¯t have to enter through that hole. My watch showed me that it was 5 past midnight, and there was no sign of the girl, or anyone to invite me into the place. Time ticked by and I was on the outside looking in. No sign of being rescued, and if it weren¡¯t for my own morbid curiosity I might not have gone inside. It was a tight fit, but I managed to squeeze through with no problems. The problem was the size of the yard, and not knowing where to go inside that yard. It was monstrous, up close, not only in looks but width and length. Rustling leaves wrestled amongst themselves as the wind bellowed through dense tree trunks. The noises were reminiscent to wolf howls. I knew if I was caught, I was dead. If not by the Preacher, then my father. I was panicked by a obnoxiously loud barks, until I realized it was houses down. I released some of the built up tension, and continued my trek carefully. There was no instruction where to go from the girl. Only that I needed to come to the house, but now that I was here. I was lost. Creaks came from every which way in the yard, and I found myself terrified of the shadows around me. A whistle chimed through the winds bellows, and I looked to find a the culprit, maybe a bird., or some sort of midnight creature. I crouched low, and scoured my surroundings. I was lucky enough to be behind a large oak tree near the. Center of the overly large yard. The grass was tall in some areas, and dead in others. So I kept towards the tall side, ducking in and out, looking for that whistle. It was there again, and I was on the lookout for the direction. The whistle was a sing song whistle, purposely done, but I couldn¡¯t tell by what. My gaze brought me back to where I started, hoping that there was a girl, equally confused as to why I was inside the yard and not waiting for her, but nobody was there. It sounded again, but weaker this time, and as I listened closely, I turned my head to see the sound dying down by the old shed towards the east side of the yard. The roofs metallic covering hummed and vibrated with the wind, and I thought that maybe that was the culprit all along. So, I felt stupid. It had to be. The pace was built with a combination of wood and metal. So that with the wind building, made the whistling sound. My father would say that¡¯s science for you. Solving the unexplainable. I was thinking of turning back. It wasn¡¯t like I owed the girl anything, or an explanation as to why I didn¡¯t come, when she didn¡¯t show herself either. ¡°Over here.¡± A voice cut through the wind. Loud enough for me to here it, but soft enough to be drowned out if I wasn¡¯t on high alert. My eyes darted all around me first, then back to the shed, where I was still sure the whistling was coming from. There was a low groan screech that made me look towards the sheds opening. I crouched low, trying to blend into my surroundings, only to be stunned by what was coming out of the shed. A, glowing, white hand stabbed out, like it was grasping for air, straight from a grave itself. A finger lifted, calling me over. The doors hinges were all rusted, and they groaned when I opened it. Inside, standing near a window, that was half illuminated by moonlight, was the girl from the palisades. She was in a heavier coat this time, that made her look like a fat wild animal. Her hair sprang out the collar, making for a comical view. I stepped inside, letting myself warm up, before deciding to break the ice. I was ignored or passed over by a quick glance pass me, then outside the window to her left. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Is there anyone else with you?¡± She asked, blowing into her hands for warmth. I noticed her ungloved hands and wondered, but didn¡¯t ask why, because she pocketed them right after. ¡°No, I¡¯m by myself.¡± I answered, the best way I could, pinpointing what I thought was her supposed worry about me being loose lipped. I watched half her face, but she showed no sign of acknowledging me. In a mock defeat I put my hands up to let her know I was defenseless, alone and, only here because I was asked to come. Instead of giving a proper response she chewed her bottom lip, before bringing her glare back over me. ¡°Do you live here?¡± I asked, finally settling on sitting on what I thought were bags of fertilizer, due to the smell. I was trying to fill that void of silence, left by her dissatisfied attitude. ¡°Not exactly here, I mean.¡± I added, hoping she didn¡¯t think I meant the shed. ¡°There.¡± I pointed to a wall where there were tools lined up, but behind that on the other side. There was no answer, only a silence. ¡°Is he your father? The Prea¡­ the man you were with?¡± I slipped up, almost calling the man the name, we called him in jest. I was hoping to break the tension, which was thicker than the girls eyebrows. Although this garnered some attention, it was the wrong kind. She gave me a scathing glare. ¡°He¡¯s not, I¡¯m no monster like him.¡± She violently spat out, like the word father was poison to her. I was starting to wonder why I was even called here, if she was as going to be stand offish, but I persevered anyways. ¡°So, is he¡¯s a vampire?¡± I only asked to get away from the sore topic, and to get on her better side, since this was a topic I knew I could broach with her. I tried not to sound skeptical, but I was sure it came off like that. She shook her head, saying. ¡°They¡¯re.¡± I turned my head, trying to piece the meaning together. ¡°them.¡± She repeated, nodding past the wall of tools. ¡°So, you want me to believe the family inside that house are vampires?¡± She scowled, then asked. ¡°Is your father coming?¡± At the mention of my father; I seized up looking for the bright red and blue police lights, flashing outside the windows reflection. ¡°He shouldn¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly tell him I was sneaking out to see what the weird girl, saying she was a vampire.¡± I added a little ire to my tone, because I was frustrated by being stalemated, when she was the one who called me out. I startled when the metallic roof shuttered, sending us both into a brooding silence. Then after a second to think to think, she spat out the side of her mouth. ¡°I¡¯m not the vampire, or weird.¡± I didn¡¯t catch what she said, not out of annoying her, but because of the winds raucous attack on the sheds roof. ¡°Huh?¡± I asked. Instead of repeating the same way, or saying it louder. She closed in on one fell swoop. Appearing right in front of me. A finger pressed against my chest, and through gritted teeth, she reiterated. ¡°I am not Weird, or a vampire.¡± Unlike my mind, I didn¡¯t think fast enough, so I was backpedaling, falling backwards onto my butt, and she was coming quickly at me. The ground was cold and hard, and with absolutely nowhere to go, she straddled me like a wild animal. I was breathing in and out, raggedly, as she pressed her hands into my chest. Our breaths were simultaneously entangled as we both looked up and down at another. ¡°They hurt, they kill, they and eat people. They are detestable. I want them caught.I want justice for the people they¡¯ve hurt.¡± My breathing was becoming shallow, as she pounded each word, and her hands into my chest. I was in awe of her hostility. I didn¡¯t think to scream out for help, because although I was the one pinned to the ground. There wasn¡¯t much force being generated to keep me there. I looked up, hoping to glimpse an intenseness in her emerald eyes, but instead I was left with a pitiful look, and tears overflowing. She continued ranting, and I could hear the frustration in her voice. I didn¡¯t tell her to stop, or invalidate her, I let her continue. It was all I could do. After it was all done and out, her frustrations at these monsters, she claimed hurt people. I was terrified for a different reason. That there was a possibility they could exist. I also felt sorry. Because, what situation put you in the care of monsters, what was her life like until now. She gripped my jacket and pressed her face into it. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything for them to be caught.¡± She finished, from inside my jacket, and it came out garbled and warped, but again I said nothing. After a minute of getting ourselves situated. We both sat in opposite corners of where we started. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said, ¡°for calling you weird.¡± There were sniffles and then she said though small sobs. ¡°it¡¯s okay, I am a bit weird.¡± I didn¡¯t dare agree. ¡°I can show you, proof I mean.¡± Came a half choked sniffle, in between words. I looked over at her, not understanding what she meant, when she added. ¡°But they can never know I told you. Not even if they find you, if they found out I betrayed them.¡± She paused here, looking at every corner, and listening closely to the wind outside. ¡°it¡¯ll be the end for me.¡± She was desperate now, reminiscent of a child telling a secret that must never get out, lest her parents ground her. I listened to the word, Proof, in my head. Could I possibly even believe? Didn¡¯t she say she would show me tonight? I was curious, but at what cost would I get the answer. I hesitated answering, letting her face dictate my next response. It was there, a possibility, because she was truly terrified, but Vampires? I couldn¡¯t just believe that was the case. I was starting to feel like this was to much for me. I couldn¡¯t fathom what kind of help I could offer. I decided to listen to what else she had to say or show me. ¡°Later on today, in the evening, right after 6, It has to be then. That¡¯s when they feed.¡± Her crying all but dried up, and she was more vocal, less hostile and filled with hope. This struck me right where it hurt the most. I still didn¡¯t fully believe her, and I still didn¡¯t offer any circumstance that could help her out. Although, there was a quality to her story, her emotions, that made me think beyond the realm of reality. That, although preposterous at first, there was a finality to it. Her words stamped themselves into the realm of non fiction, and I couldn¡¯t help but want to help her. Chapter 4 They weren¡¯t her parents, but an aunt and uncle, all she had left, is how she described it. She was left in their care after an accident took both her parents last year. She was two years older than me, and I was surprised. I expected her to be at least two years younger. She¡¯d been pulled out of her 7th grade class last year, and had been homeschooled ever since. It was how she found the families terrible secret. Then soon after, they brought her in to the folds, as a human slave. She was told to do despicable things because of them and their habits, but she wanted to repent. Which is why she was telling someone now. I was absolutely in shock hearing all this, and on the cusp of believing her, until I really thought about it. In my mind she was obviously bored and needed an imaginary outlet, or a friend. I wasn¡¯t much, but I listened to her, thinking about the proof she mentioned. The last thing she mentioned to me was her name. It was Maxine, but she went by Max. After sneaking back into my room, Images of Max crying stirred a dormant feeling, a hurt inside my chest. I didn¡¯t understand her, but I felt I wanted to. Those emerald eyes wet and pregnant with emotions. I found it hard to get rest after the whole ordeal. Mom didn¡¯t ask any questions about where I was headed. Only asked me to be careful when she saw that I had a tape in my hand, ready to return. The church was less menacing in the day time, although the gate was still wrapped eerily in dead vines. There was an older black car, parked crookedly in driveway, that wasn¡¯t here last time. I attempted to spot Max in the yard or a window, before remembering specific instructions she left me. Which were to use the same passage way, then creep towards the front door, and listen near the left window. She was specific about it being at or just after 6pm. I was still unsure on what kind of proof I could possibly get by listening, but I wanted to believe her, so I trusted her process. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The closer I was to the house the more pronounced the smell of mildew struck me. It was a minute before 6pm, and I was crouched below the lower window on the left, right next to the front steps. I calmed my breathing, not wanting to give away my being here, because of cloudy breaths. Time was coming and going, yet there was no proof. Nothing was happening. I thought that maybe she meant the window in the shed, when I heard a loud crash and glass shattering. Followed by low muttering and the sound of footsteps. ¡°Let me go.¡± Each word came out rougher than the other. More footsteps clattered among each other, while a muffled scream filled the air. ¡°Maxey, hold her tight, she cant escape this time.¡± A man¡¯s voice demanded. My breaths were becoming ragged while I listened. So, I kept my head down and away, all the time listening in. A piercing yell startled me, and I almost tipped over into the houses foundation. Keeping my balance, I covered my mouth, terrified to make a noise. ¡°Don¡¯t, please, I¡¯m begging don¡¯t do this, please stop, god save me, please stop, save me god, save me. Holy father save me.¡± I gripped my mouth harder afraid to even move. More muffled screams, followed by grunts and commands coming from the man kept me frozen against the houses foundation. Looking up, still deathly afraid to move any amount. I waited for anyone to spot the nosy visitor listening to a crime happening. Nothing happened. There was only the deafening silence to displace my thoughts. A thump startled me back into action, as I crept away from the foundation. Whispers and foot steps retreating gave me the heads up to attempt to make a run for it. I pushed up and away, trying to swallow and a failed attempt for air. Midway through the yard, a loud sound behind me made me jump and turn. Before I could see that it was the shed, inside the window where I fled from under was Max. Looming over the yard, the drapes pulled up to her neck exposing only her face. In a panic, I tripped over myself and fell backwards, as she mouthed a single word to me. The look she wore was menacing, and even more alarming was the blood seeping from the edge of her lip. Pushing myself up, I ran, never looking back again. It wasn¡¯t until I was home that I thought about what I witnessed, and that single word she mouthed. Tonight. Chapter 5 The shovel would only go so deep inside the dry, cold, dirt. Maxine was by my side, digging at the same pace. Shoveling three or four times before wiping away the sweat forming over our eyebrows. This wasn¡¯t exactly, what I pictured doing after earlier. I stole glances at her mouth, remembering the crimson blood leaking out the sides of her mouth. I surprised myself coming back. It was either I believed her, or I didn¡¯t. I was confused as to what I saw and heard. So, I came back to get the answers I needed. Instead of getting answers, though, a shovel was thrown near me and I was told to follow. She asked if anyone was with me, and looked muddled when I said no. So following her lead, she led me to a corner in the back yard. The patch of grass was a lot different from the rest of the yard, but it wasn¡¯t a recent change. We immediately stabbed our shovels into the ground. I tried to focus on the digging, but instead wondered more about Vampires in a whole. Was she one, I thought? Why was there blood on her lips, and who was the woman screaming? Of course my mind jumped to the thought that maybe we were digging up that woman, or maybe this was my grave for having seen too much. We each took a long breath, letting them whizz by like broken clouds of smoke. I gripped my shovel, but not to dig, to brace myself for a question, when I was interrupted. ¡°We¡¯re so close, I can smell it.¡± Max said, unaware of what was on my mind, or the fact that when I looked at her lips, I saw blood pooling. I gripped the shovel stabbing it into the ground, pushing my foot down onto a corner, only stopping when it was deep inside the ground. ¡°What are we doing this for?¡± I was out of breath, and cold, my hands were stinging from gripping the shovel with no gloves. At least an hour passed, and I felt I was owed an explanation. Instead of answering, she stabbed into the ground, and looked at me with fierce eyes. ¡°You said you¡¯d trust me, so do you?¡± There was a chill in the air that wasn¡¯t the cold alone. So, I said nothing else and kept digging. Minutes later Max was on all fours smoothing away clumps and thin layers of dirt. ¡°It¡¯s, here.¡± She all but shouted. ¡°it¡¯s so close.¡± I watched her frantically uncover pieces of tattered cloths. Then a stench of rot filled my lungs and I began coughing into myself. Quieting each escape of air attempting to come out. Max was still inside the small hole, uncovering and dusting off what I came to realize were bones. Human remains. The skull was like you¡¯d see in class. These were no animal bones. It seemed to be the real deal, and I fell backwards. Scraping my hands in the process. I attempted to scoot backwards, when Max raised the skull to the moonlight. I finally understood why we were digging, and why it needed to be after what I heard. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± I asked, knowing full well what we uncovered. They were bones of the deceased. To old and young to be that of the voice I heard earlier. I was no specialist, so, I couldn¡¯t tell you what or who the bones belonged too. ¡°It¡¯s my salvation.¡± Was all she said. Her eyes looked on the verge of tears. Beneath her were more bones, neatly piled into more cloth. How did she know about this, is what I wanted to know or ask, but she told me. She was an unwilling accomplice. This was her proof, since I was on the fence. She knew just hearing wouldn¡¯t be enough. She needed to show me their terrible deeds. ¡°Max, why¡­¡±I strained to get out, when I was cut off by the loud thump and shatter of glass. Which was followed by the scornful tone of a woman¡¯s voice slicing through the air. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare fucking touch me you monster.¡± I looked over to Max who was gently lowing the skull inside the hole. I was panicked, and she crouched, hushing me to silence with a finger. Slowly getting to my feet, I helped her out of the hole, and we snuck silently away from our damning evidence. More screams erupted, and glass shattered, followed by the drunken ramble of a very inebriated man. Max grabbed my hand and led me back, over, to the line where the back yard started, and front yard ended. The slam of a door startled the both of us. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Max¡¯s grip tightened, and I could feel my pulse racing. We decided to lay low and sneak our way towards the shed. Max led the way, and we made it safely inside. I thought we were safe, until I heard the sound of leaves crunching under heel. I gripped Max¡¯s hand, and scoured the area for somewhere to hide. ¡°Maxine, uncle just wants to talk, you know me, we talk all the time.¡± The voice wasn¡¯t far away, and Max was trembling. She didn¡¯t wanna let go of my hand, and I could sense the amount of fear on her. I was just as terrified, but I needed to hide, lest I make it worse. ¡°Maxine, open up, don¡¯t make me huff and puff.¡± The footsteps were loudly approaching, and Max was deathly pale. I snatched my hand away, and grabbed her shoulders to snap her out of it. We were covered in dirt, together, and hiding out. So, I was sure we¡¯d be caught if we didn¡¯t think up something. Instead of shying away, Max snapped out of her trance, and looked around, wiping her hands down her clothes. She took her jacket off, that was covered in dirt, and let herself stand in the cold with no cover but a Tshirt. ¡°Under there.¡± She whispered in a panic. ¡°Hurry.¡± I looked to where she was pointing, and did as I was told. I hurriedly slumped into the hiding spot, listening as the man attempted the door handle. ¡°Open up, Maxey open up, or I¡¯ll blow this whole house down.¡± The playfully sinister way in which he said this, made me go cold. I was shaking and only stopped when the creak of the door opened up. ¡°There you are.¡± I could only see Max¡¯s feet from under the large tarp. I planted my face into my hands to cover my breathing and keep it under control. The man staggered in, his feet stumbling over one another. Max fell backwards, not making asound, or attempting to get back to her feet. I wished I could help either of us, but I knew it would be worse if I was also found with her. Surely it would look suspicious, two kids covered in dirt together at this hour. The sound of a belt unbuckling brought me back to Max who was inching backwards now. ¡°Maxine, is this how you repay us? I bring you into my house and you repay me by running away from me? Would a good girl do that?¡± A hiccup followed each other sentence, and I held my breath as he kneeled down to her level. ¡°you know what we do to naughty girls.¡± I could see more of him now. He was crouched, following Max, as she went beyond what I could see. The next thing I heard and seen was a loud slap, followed by Max face planting near me. ¡°You little bitch.¡± The man said, coming behind her bent over body. Her face glanced up at me, then she closed her eyes. I could see tears forming in the corners, from where I was. I wanted to close my eyes, but I watched him take ahold of her hair, then push his face into her neck. It was only after, she let escape a small groan. I closed my eyes, wishing it all away. I thought about helping, but knew I would be useless, more of a burden if anything. What could I do, against a Vampire. A monster I couldn¡¯t help defeat. So, I stayed hiding, biding my time till I could either help or escape. Max cried when he did what I thought he was doing. I couldn¡¯t bare to see her being turned like this, so I kept my eyes closed and continued to let it happen. I didn¡¯t know how long it lasted, but I found myself only coming back to reality when the man was to his feet, saying. ¡°Clean yourself up and get back in the house.¡± The sound of crunching leaves, and footsteps retreating, gave me the sign to open my eyes and look out. There was Max, curled up, hugging herself, in the furthest corner of the shed. Her hair was splayed over her shoulders and I couldn¡¯t see her face. Her shirt was off and she was practically naked. She didn¡¯t flinch when I called out to her. I rushed to her, grabbing ahold of her jacket, and crumpled up shirt, and covered her. She was so much smaller than I was like this. I didn¡¯t know what to do, so I did what my mother would have. I hugged her, bringing her in to myself. Immediately she sunk into me, and cried. I was at a loss. How could I help her, it was too late. She would become a vampire surely. A part of me wanted to see the mark on her neck, but I continued holding her while she sobbed. Then as if there were a prick. I felt her teeth sink into me, but I didn¡¯t shy or pull my shoulder away. I let her bite me, and even if she was a vampire, I felt I could trust her not to kill me. My shoulder throbbed as I watched her mouth open, breathing in as hard as she could. Her left cheek was swollen and red, just like her eyes. Her head lifted enough for me to fully see, and I didn¡¯t turn away. Her green eyes weren¡¯t haunting, no they were beautiful, soft, and kind. So, in the same manor I pulled her in, and sunk my teeth into where the man bit her. She jumped when I did, and struggled under me, but after seconds, let me, and even after I was done, she held me. This lasted what felt all night, but in reality was no more than 7 minutes at the most. After we finally let go of one another; I watched her leave. As I sat with myself I came to a realization. She was not only seeking my help, but asking for it. All the times she asked about my father, even going so far to risk her life telling me about these monsters. Hell even going so far as to dig up personal bones that they buried. I was her last lifeline, I was supposed to be someone reliable. So, like my father before me, I rushed into action, weighed down by the unbearable guilt, the animalistic things I saw. I ran through the yard, not caring if I was caught, I slid under the fence, grabbing my bike and rode off into the middle of the night. There was a girl in danger, and that was the ferocity in which I rode. My tires hit the ground running and raced to my house. Once I was back inside the house I turned every lights and ran to wake my mother up. I never mentioned Vampire, because of how urgent this was in the moment. All I mentioned was bones in a back yard, and a little girl, my age, attacked. I called her by her full name, never given my mother a way out of this. It was my final piece of information that made her really understand that time was of the essence. That there was blood inside the shed from where she was attacked. Blood I didn¡¯t neglect to see. I chose to ignore it, thinking how could a Vampire leave even a drop. Chapter 6/epilogue I waited up watching the snow come down for the first time this year. It was slow, gradually becoming heavy, overtaking lawns and cars. It was like a fresh new coat of paint over the neighborhood. A new beginning, one where I never saw Max again. After answering all the police questions, leaving out the tid bits about the Vampires, I found myself in and out of an ongoing investigation. One where it was found out that rumor might not have been so off base about the old church. The bones dug up by the two of us were children¡¯s bones, multiple. The discovery came as a shock to both I and the police. It begged the question on what else could as buried back there. The police never questioned me about digging that hole. I was what they called a passerby, a good Samaritan, who did a good thing. I was deemed a hero, who prevented more from happening, even if it was all I could do. I was never the trespasser, only the rider by, the silent hero in the night who did everything he could. I wondered if they questioned Max, and what she said. I found the news of the old couples doomed love story tragic and disgusting, far worse than the creatures any of us thought them to be. Max was never mentioned in any of the news programs or by the cops. The only information they had was how I met her, and I truthfully never divulged that. I never did change into a vampire, and after checking, over and over, the bite mark wasn¡¯t even a mark. It was smooth skin, nothing left but a lingering bruise and sickness. My father never talked about the case, and nor did I ever ask. All I knew is he looked crest fallen coming back home the next day. It wasn¡¯t until years later when I asked my mother for the truth that I got it, reluctantly. How there was a dungeon in the basement for the child, naked pictures of her lining the wall, and how they made her spend nights alone in a shed. My mother swore she¡¯d never heard of a man so sick, and that apparently the children dug up in his back yard were his own children. The man even claimed that he did it, although some speculated it was his wife, getting rid of the evidence or due to her failing mental sickness. I was sick to my stomach hearing that last bit. The same shed she let me in, one I was sure I¡¯d criticized in her presence. I was also in the presence of those bones, and the mother mental deterioration had to have been what I heard that day. I let it all sit within me for years, before I started writing my story. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I never passed by the house again, or at least not that winter, spring, or summer. It wasn¡¯t until my father passed, and I was on the verge of finishing my book. That I thought to come and take a look at what inspired me to write and finish the story. It looked completely the same, only the house and its amenities were covered in snow. The shed caught my eyes, because it looked a lot more worn than I was used to seeing. Looking at how small and used up it was made me sick to my stomach. The holes outside, the improper ventilation, and only imagining how cold it must have gotten on nights like this. Epilogue There are no more pages. I¡¯m on the acknowledgment, where I thank my family, agent, and the mysterious visitor who comes to my window at night. I chuckle when I see the last line, a bit I threw in there myself. The face beyond the tarp appears like a flash in my mind. Then it¡¯s of Max standing beside the Preacher, a man I almost never think of. His face and body is melting, almost mending in with Maxes and I take a drink of whiskey to shake it off. Although I want to, I don¡¯t throw the book across the room. I close it, letting the words not only disappear from in front of me, but from my mind. The conference, on my last stop of this way to long book tour, appears in my head. Im reading the final page out loud. Where Max gets the happy ending she deserved, passing it off like I know. Deep down I know the truth. That girl could never have that ending, and I regret it. I was useless like I was inside the book, but a part of that conference continued to replay in my mind. It isn¡¯t the read along, nor is it where people tell me how I came to write the book. It¡¯s of the last guests question. Where she didn¡¯t ask anything, only thanked me for writing the book.I don¡¯t recognized the face. It¡¯s been 15 years, but there is no resemblance to anyone I know or might have known. So, it comes to me that she is truly thankful for my writing, and I can¡¯t stand that. Her words are loosely thrown around, and I seethe on the inside. I attempt to take another drink, when I hear a tap at the window. I startle, almost spilling the glass, when I notice a bird, flapping, disappearing passed the window. I don¡¯t finish my drink, because I realize how dark it is outside, and that it¡¯s started snowing. Instantly my shoulder throbs, and I know there¡¯s going to be a storm, so I stand up to go out and watch the view, while I can. I notice the windows do not have any locks on them, and I wonder if they can even open from this height, all the way up here. My mind floats to trivial things before I remind myself of that little girl, and if she¡¯ll come again, like she does every night. Lastly I wonder if she¡¯ll come and take me this time. But as of right now. I look outside, admiring the view, and I think for the first time, how thankful I am for no locks.