Within the highest turret of the abandoned, limestone castle is its den. The creature sits up there, in the tower, primarily in isolation.
Occasionally, a foolish explorer will come knocking on the castle door. The fool will climb the twisting staircase and up the eroded ladder, ending up at the highest turret. The creature residing there will freshen up, blushing its cheeks and donning a fine silk shirt. Once satisfied with its normal appearance, the creature will open the door, challenging the curious human to a light game of pool.
That is when the hunt begins.
It will dig into the neck of the human with its sharp, straw-like teeth, drinking his sweet blood. After feeding, the creature will grow strong and beautiful. With this blood, the monster can be sustained for at least a few decades.
It hasn’t fed in a while.
According to legend, at least.
***
Below, at the foot of the first spiral staircase stands a human man. The floorboards creak as he steps— if they hadn’t already succumbed to rot. The man is a dashing individual, with well-carved features and a sturdy build. His previous expeditions had taken him all over the country, searching for monsters from folk tales and myths. He documents strange footprints and abandoned dens, but always finds no truth to the stories. With all he had encountered, he felt nearly invincible. His hunger for adventure puts him in many precarious situations, however, no risk has been able to fully satisfy his spirit.
His curious eyes scanned the castle’s first floor. Characteristics of a previously welcoming foyer were everywhere, notably the sprawling staircase that stood before the man. He began his ascension of the steps, using the railing to prevent falling into the soft wood.
Once completing the stairs, the human is met with a decaying ladder. It was sure to snap if he put his full weight on it. He places his right foot on the first rung, carefully lifting his left foot off the ground. The wooden rung gives away violently. The second rung appears healthier. The man tests the rung with his foot, pressing down on it. It stays intact. The third rung is tested; it is also sturdy. When tried, the fourth rung snaps, shooting slivers of wood at the man.
The man tested each rung on the ladder, and only ten are sound enough to climb. It would be a difficult feat, but the man is determined to see if the stories were true; the legend of the vampire in the castle. He begins climbing the ladder. It bends slightly as he leaps to each rung. He makes it to the top, where he is met by a long, ominous hallway. Light disappears into its length, only a flickering oil lamp at the entrance bidding the traveler goodbye. The brave man slowly enters the hallway, feeling the walls with his hands to guide himself in the darkness.
The door ahead swings open, allowing the light from the room to bleed into the hallway. The dim light illuminates a lanky figure standing in the doorway, so pale it nearly glows. The human jumps back, startled about another person being in the castle this late.
His leather-like skin appears grey, nearly drained of blood. His face angular and gaunt, like its skin is vacuum sealed to its frail bones. His shoulder blades and spine attempt to tear through to the surface.
“No need to be startled, my friend,” the figure murmurs with a voice that is choppy and coarse, like he hadn’t talked in a while. “Come inside. Are you up for a game of pool? I can rack the balls.”
Apprehensively, the human enters the room. The room’s condition is a curious contrast to the rest of the run-down castle; it is still a ruin, but appears maintained.
The windows are concealed by large, black curtains that block sunlight from trespassing into the room. The room itself is a familiar crimson color, accented by hardwood trim and a dazzling, kaleidoscopic carpet. The only source of light is an industrial chandelier that dangles above the grand pool table at the center of the room. Its green, velvety felt looks well-maintained, and the golden hardware is freshly polished. Teetering on the edge of the table is an old-fashioned glass cup. The cup is filled halfway with a strange, red liquid. As the table rocked, the contents of the cup waved along with it. Its consistency is thicker than water. Resin balls clack together as they are struck by the cue stick.
The stranger gathers the pool balls in the center of the felt and shapes them using the triangular rack. His lips are stained a fresh, blood red, and his uncanny eyes are an empty black. Dark shadows creep into the crevices of his face.
“You break.” The strange person says to the man, chalking his stick.
Warily, the human grabs a cue stick. He balances the stick and knocks it into the racked balls, scattering them across the felt. Two solid balls fall into pockets.
Next, it is the host’s turn. He apologizes prematurely, admitting he is not very skilled at pool. His calloused, ivory fingers rest on the felt, supporting the cue stick. With another clack, the white ball is knocked into a red striped ball, which ricochets off the side of the table and into the far right pocket. The figure stands up, pleased with its performance, and ambles to where the cue ball had ended up.
The game continues, eventually concluding in the trespasser’s victory.
“I must be going, I’m sure it’s late.” The man says, placing his stick on the shelf.
“Why not one more game? I’m feeling lucky this time.”
“No, I shouldn’t. I honestly only came to see if the legend was true.”
“What legend?” The host inquires curiously.
“The old wives tale that a vampire lives in this castle. It’s just a silly story to explain some ancient cold cases.”
“Ah, I see. Why don’t you tell me all about this legend over some wine.” The host moves swiftly to the cabinet in the corner. He begins to pour a glass for the explorer.
“No, no, I shouldn’t. I really should be on my way.” The explorer reaches for his coat that is slumped over an armchair.
“No!” The host hisses, his canines extending from his mouth. Black and blue veins bulge from his skin. In a split second, he is at the human’s side, gripping him by the throat with claws.
“It-it’s you! You’re the vampire!” The man croaks, struggling to breathe. The vampire only hisses in response.
The man is motionless, utterly petrified. The vampire begins to lower its mouth to the man’s exposed neck. Its grip tightens, causing the man’s face to turn a bright red. The monster is inches from its meal when a hard object crashes down on its skull.
Bam!
The man had grabbed a clay sculpture that decorated the mantle, using that weapon to free himself of the vampire’s mighty grasp. The monster holds its head, seething with pain and anger.
The man runs toward the exit. Before reaching salvation, the vampire grabs his shirt collar and throws him, sending him crashing into the opposite wall. The human remains injured on the floor in a fetal position, crying out to God for help.
The vampire slithers closer to the human, a sitting duck. The man nearly gives up, accepting his death, when he spots a loose wooden shard knocked free from his impact with the wall. He grabs it, hope and adrenaline coursing through his blood.
He lunges toward the vampire, piercing its heart with the stake. The monster wails in pain as it shrivels to the ground. It clutched its side, the stake still lodged inside. The monster continued squirming on the ground, until finally it fell silent and still.
The man, still reeling with pain and brewing with regret, slinks over to the door and out of the castle. His hunger for adventure is satisfied.