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Bonnie

Ireland

Sixteen, Irish, I love writing fiction and adventure stories. I'm very passionate about my writing, I want it as a career and it means a whole lot to me.

Message to Readers

I've mentioned both of these characters before in previous pieces, both old men with strange and troubled pasts with a semi-friendly relationship. This is a conversation between them about a third character I have also mentioned before. :)

Vampiric Encounters

May 12, 2016

FREE WRITING

1
The streets were shrouded in shadows, the cold, bitter air a knife against my cheek. I walked briskly, my shoes clipping down sharply on the narrow stone pavement. The smell of cigarettes and old, musty trash lingered in the air, melded together with forgotten memories and criminal acts in this godforsaken corner of conspiracy. England wasnt generally a crime-filled country, but this placeSuch a rancid little town it was. I turned sharply, and saw the first light Id seen in many street blocks pop up in front of a dinky-looking pub whos sign was missing half its letters. A dim, flickering street lamp, coming into focus and out again. I assumed it was faulty, or it didnt so early in the evening. It started getting dark at four around here.
A small group of men were speaking in low tones outside the building, none of which looked in any mood to give directions to a stranger. But I was hardly a stranger hereId been here many a time in search for more than him, in search for strange and wonderous things. More often than not, I found them. And I knew where he was this time, no matter how hard he attempted to hide himself in the dregs of society. I turned another corner, and was presented with an old, abandoned apartment block with a high gate surrounding it. They had begun to renovate it, but had left it to rot, like the rest of this makeshift community. Large dumpsters lined one side of the road, overflowing, explaining the overwhelming stench of rubbish and decay. Dirty syringes and abandoned bags with strange contents were placed just outside the containers, their owners either too lazy, or too out of their heads to think to hide them. There was really no point in hiding them anyway. Everyone knew what went on in this place. The young, the old, the innocent, the guiltyThey all knew what people did, what people still do, and why they werent caught. Because in a ramsack place likes this damned townNobody really cared.

I had finally reached my destination. A shop. Or, well, the remains of one, in a town of ghosts and zombies. And vampiresMaybe only one vampire. The title was too faded to see on the almost non-existent light, and it looked very easily accessible from the outside. The large pane of glass that acted as a shop window was shattered, a large and dangerous hole in it, which had been boarded up, but never repaired. The dust on the boards was thick enough to suggest it had been there at least a few years. I stepped closer to the door, and peered inside, through the gaps in the boards around the window. It was pitch black inside, as Id expected. He really didnt want to be found. I raised a hand to knock, then lowered it again. I knew he wouldnt answerI placed a palm against the door, and, concentrating, I gave a small push, forcing the magical energy in the air against the door. Immediately, it buckled, and burst, flying inwards, falling to the floor. I winced a little at the noise. The last thing I wanted was an angered vampire on my tail. That wasnt what I was here for. I stepped in, as quietly as I could, although my foot made a loud creaking noise on the old and rotting wood that tiled the floor.
Sever? I called, softly, gently. I knew he couldnt be soothed, but this was always more effective than being harsh with him. Nothing answered mePerhaps he did not recognise my voice.

Sever! I called again, walking deeper into the building. I found a lamp, and switched it on, lighting the place. I was standing in what looked like an old living room, but no couches or armchairs were anywhere to be seen. A wooden table, and two or three old, rusty metal chairs stood to the far end of the room. A bare and dusty bulb hung down from the centre of the room. The lamp I had switched on lay on a small end table covered by old, peeling documents and books. The air smelled of must; as if this place had not been touched in years. And it hadnt been. At least, by a humanA door lay to my left, and a short corridor to my right, but I was not in the mood to go exploring. It wasnt the time. I had a purpous here.
Sever, I know youre in here. Dont you remember me..? Dont you remember my voice? I asked again, and this time, I heard a door swing open down the corridor to my right. I braced myself, and heard the soft pitter-patter of not feet, but paws. A large and shaggy grey dog trotted out, and settled itself in a dog bed to my left. I stared at it. A dogHe had a dog? Loud and clunking footsteps followed, and a man emerged from the corridor. He did not look in any way happy to see his old friend.
The man was dressed in an old and wilting shirt, the collar limp, the colour a strange off-white. His trousers were long, and black, and covered his big, chunky boots to the very tip of his ankle. Over his shirt he wore a vintage-looking waistcoat, and a very long, very tattered black coat that obscured his body. He closed over the coat as I gazed upon him, his grey eyes boring into mine with an intensity I remembered feeling before. I smiled, and bowed my head slightly.
Sever Blackery. I said politely, putting a hand out for him to shake. He looked at my hand in contempt, and did not move his own.
Sarobous McCainYou broke my door.
Well, I am positive that I can fix it again.
You broke it.
I did not know how else to get your attention.
You could have, you know, knocked or something.
You wouldnt have answered.
Or, maybe, called me on my phone.
You wouldnt have answered that either.
True, true. So you break my door. Cant you see the windows already broken??
Oh, yes, and you went through so much effort to fix THAT, didnt you?
Does it really matter? That was rude.
Not seeing a friend in decades; now that is rude, Mr. Blackery.
I wouldnt call us friends.
No matter. There is something I wish to discuss with you. Sever blackery tilted his head, and raised an arm, pulling his jacket back to look at his watch. He was never anywhere without some sort of timekeeping device, and I knew very well why.
I have some timeWhat is it?
The Devil. Severs forever grave face somehow became even more grave, and he nodded solemnly.
I see. Youve met him, then?
Of course Ive met him. Hes obsessed with the idea of me.
I find that easy to believe, somebody like youWell, come along then. Sever led him into a small and cramped kitchen off to the left, where he filled a kettle with water, and pointed at the fireplace. It immediately burst into lovely, warming flames. Sever hung the kettle over the fire, and had a mooch around for some tea leaves, and two very large mugs. I sat myself down at the table once gestured to, and began to speak once Sever nodded at me to begin.
I met him first in the 1920s. He beat me in a game of poker. He threatened meI hadnt heard from him again until recently. Sever nodded slowly.
Hes physically unable to lose games like thatYou didnt make any sort of deal, did you?
Of course not, If I did, I wouldnt be asking for help, Id be accepting my inevitable death.

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