《Blood Rocket Memories Over Capsule Bay》 Omniscient I The honesty of the Rotunda. The ink columns that surround me. The marble tiles I step on each and every day. For how many days? It''s been so long. Fortunately, the Dawn''s mystic amber led me to remember why I was there. The long marble table looked especially bland, but it made the breakfast look much more appetizing, even though its fragrance paired with my growling stomach caused it. After the decadent meal, I stood up and pushed my chair back. My room waited for me two floors above, through two endless spirals of mahogany stairs. The stares of gargoyle statues followed me. They kept me guarded. Following were the two halls I still struggle to tell apart. Both are aligned with framed portraits of pioneers and nobles who I''ve never met. Same china, embroidery in the carpets, and two dying torches. Yards down the left hall, my door was ajar. I paused to observe the sounds from the room, but I realized my footsteps were enough to silence them. Inside, my red-maned friend peered at me with his blond feline eyes. It was clear when he positioned my candles on my nightstand, his clumsy hands, paired with loose furs and talons, inconvenienced him. I noticed he had perfected every inch of the room. The curtains were closed shut. My bedding was washed and neatened. Even the vast space of only black carpet in the center of the room was more cared for than I could ever do. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I smiled for him to hand me the candle for me to light. I produced a small flame on my fingertip, and started the kindle. The red of my friend''s blood showed even through his fur from hovering it over the fire. It surely matched his beating heart. I could see that well. The beating of hearts pound in my ears. No matter the day. No matter the hour. Sadly, I couldn''t say the same for my blood. Soon, he left the room after I reassured him hundreds of times over that he isn''t obligated to do things I don''t ask for. Once his heart faded from my range, I scanned the room. There was a space he did neglect. Threads tangled in threads. Short frames, tall frames, cracked frames, all blanketing the floor. The novel dolls I collected for childrens'' company over my time. My books fell victim to aging with cobwebs and torn spines. But hidden behind the fiasco were the most untouchable. Jars... Jars filled with essence. I can still hear the hearts of those it belonged to. Its pounding was unmistakable. My drapes folded and ripped under the decayed wood and devastated glass. Five beautiful jars filled with life. Rose. Deep cherry. Maroon. Written on old rag paper was a name that rang in my ears for so long. I twisted off the lid, only to hear the beating slow. The metallic scent started to fade. "The beating''s gone..." I whispered to myself. "The blood''s dying..." Candlelight But as I walked down the sidewalk tonight, I couldn¡¯t help but cower at the trees. The stark shadows made them look unreal, floating against the black sky. Like a painting just real enough to not notice at first glance, but any cat or bird would attack and run away in fear. And I would¡¯ve done the same. But I¡¯m not a cat or a bird. I used to be able to just leave. I remembered sitting in the backyard at my old house, playing in the dirt with a stick. Despite the soon-to-be gloomy weather, I stayed outside for hours looking into the forest. The edge of it twisting into a cave, with all of the broken, hanging branches, vines, and leaves tangling into a giant, shadowy house. It was old and weathered, with two stories of moss-framed windows, and ripped curtains and veils strewn all over it. It was so black and misty, it could¡¯ve been made of smoke. The front door scared me the most. Not because of who could walk out, but because of how barren I figured the inside of the house was. What if I walked in there? I thought, shivering. It scared me everytime I imagined it, but I kept doing it. Because it was fun. I¡¯d frown, smile, frown, smile, and repeat for an entire evening. And my dad never saw it, even with all of those little details I gave him. It made it easy for me to just go inside. That memory had faded until the storm approached Caedispear, just like before. So now I¡¯ll be walking down the street, in the soaking rain. But it didn¡¯t bother me at all until I thought about the last time I heard the same exact storm, with the same purple flash in the clouds. The smell of mist and¡­ candles? Then the thunder bellowed in the sky. The few candles and the small candles warmed the classroom from a ruined recess. The chalkboard had been erased except for the date. All the desks were pushed against the wall with the stacks of floppy picture books and Scholastic book fair catalogs. I made a nest there, wrapped in my black blanket. The room was spacious enough for no one to notice. Our teacher, youthful while pushing forty, sat on a plastic crate and held up a small microphone at the end of her necklace. She clicked a button on it, and her voice was silent as a beetle. "Does anyone want to read this page?" she asked the twenty kids snuggled up on the carpet. "I will!" A kid with fluffy black hair and a confident smile raised his hand. I''d seen him before, but never heard his voice. His baggy, tan T-shirt looked dirtied from recess. The teacher sat on the carpet while he patted the pillow on the crate. He lowered his voice to match the silent cackling of the candle and raindrops on the window. "This isn''t just any story. Not like the one Nikki or Mandy told. Mines is about that creepy scarecrow we saw before.¡± "From the pumpkin patch?" a girl asked. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. "Yes. But did you know he sneaks into classrooms? On days like these? The days that look like nights?" I think he meant "thunderstorms". Whatever it was, it couldn¡¯t have been as creepy as the ¡°shadow house¡±. I turned a page in the book I was reading: Nickel Moon over Capsule Bay. On the cover was a pretty lighthouse, with rocks and a moon behind it. I wish I snuggled up with the others. I thought I heard knocking in the cabinets. "He talks to you, feeds you corn, makes you laugh, but you don''t see him until he..." Roar! the thunder went. "Eats you alive!" I jumped and banged my elbow against the edge of the desk. The page tore where the rest of them stayed intact. The squeaking metal from the desk''s legs turned everyone''s heads. Including him. I looked away. "Darien? Honey? Can you tell the next story?" the teacher waved me over. "No thank you..." "What''d he say?" She asked one of the kids closer to the edge of the carpet. The boy with black hair appeared in front of me. "I''ll read it for you!" He held out his hand. "Why?" He didn''t answer me for some reason. My picture book laid open for the duration of class. The storm persisted. The hallway outside the classroom was cherry and black; the only light being the glowing jack-o-lanterns left over from Halloween. It was almost Thanksgiving. I froze standing in the doorway, but I had to. I had to wait for the other kids to peel their ears away from the story. I learned what his name was; the one who told the story. Mitchell. Like Mitchell Musso; that was the only other Mitchell I knew of. "Sorry I took so long, Darien." He picked up his book bag and stood by the door. "It''s okay..." I smiled. "What''s wrong?" I took another look at it. No lights. But there were no lights anywhere. I could freely look the other kids in the eye, and speak without stuttering. I could listen and enjoy Ms. Osborne''s stories without being scared. The hallway didn''t seem haunted anymore. It felt more like a cozy hug. "Darien, Mitchell, make sure you tell Ms. Maya I let you go down." Osborne patted my back. "We will," he said. "And Darien? Next time, you can wear one of these." She held the small microphone around her neck. "It''ll make you louder." I could only raise an eyebrow at it. How would it make me louder? Mitchell took my hand and led me down the dim, wide hallway. The widest space was where the front doors stood. Rain polished the small windows like an extra glass layer. The day waned soon after that. Mitchell and I read some books together on the floor. It seemed like he had a hard time saying some of the words. Mitchell stashed a few books in his bookbag, which was covered in random keychains of cartoon monsters. I liked it so much, I wanted my own book to be in there¡ªthe one I was reading before. I gave it to him, and he said he wanted us to read it together. An hour of reading later, the rain outside turned into a lullaby, and I fell asleep. If only it were that easy, nowadays. I had to follow a strict path through the empty streets. Though the fear was more paralyzing then, it was easier for it to fade, and to learn how irrational it was. Even the fears that linger even now, I admire how brave I used to be. But now everything is scary¡ªthe dark corner of the room, natural ambience from the apartment. Even the most calming dreams I have now are scarier than the worst nightmares I had as a kid. What I believe now will be with me forever, even if my heart doesn¡¯t want it to be. The Pond The aroma of cinnamon danced around the room. I felt my head on my pillow. ¡°Darien? Do you want a candle in here?¡± My eyes focused on my dad, holding a lit scented candle in the black doorway. ¡°Sure,¡± I muttered, and sat up in bed. My face felt yucky from the spontaneous nap. With the window beside my bed, I anticipated the booming noise of a thunderstorm outside, but it was silent. ¡°It¡¯s not raining anymore,¡± I noted. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that bad, today,¡± Dad said. ¡°It will be all week, though. Hopefully not during the gathering.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m gonna make some tea. Did you want any?¡±¡± He nodded. The kitchen was way too bright for just waking up. Dad fired up the burner for the kettle. The light didn¡¯t do him any favors. His graying hair was more prominent and the dark circles on his much lighter skin were the only things I could pay attention to. I felt bad for thinking so. I also felt bad for wondering why he was white, when I so clearly wasn¡¯t. Everyday, I thought about it. I plugged my ears once the kettle screamed. ¡°How much lemon did you want?" he asked. ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± I said. He didn¡¯t listen. I felt useless when he started prepping the mugs for me, so I took over. I tried to, at least. The cabinet with the tea bags was too high up for me to reach. He got them for me, then handed me the knife to a lemon with. "Calm down!" he laughed. "No need to stab anyone." I set the knife down. ¡°Sorry, I''m still tired.¡± "I can tell." "I''m gonna lay down some more." The curtains in my room were still open. It made my tiny room feel boundless. Everything fit, tucked perfectly into corners and between spaces under my bed. But that was enough for the day. My pillow felt stale. Laying on it wasn¡¯t as relaxing as it was a couple hours ago when I got back home. I guess I wasn¡¯t meant to fall back asleep yet. Dad knocked on the door frame. ¡°Darien,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going out to see the pond.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. "What pond?¡± ¡°Behind the apartment building.¡± ¡°What about your tea?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be a pleasant surprise once I get back inside.¡± I remembered the nightmare it was to walk back home earlier, but I couldn¡¯t let that stop me from going outside at night. I had to get used to it at some point. ¡°Can¡ª¡± ¡°Do you want to come?¡± The invitation surprised me. ¡°Sure.¡± "Okay. Put some sneakers on.¡± He slowly closed the door. I only then noticed how frail his voice was. Still, he sounded like a grown working man, but without the motivation or the will to do anything besides talking to me. In a few minutes, we journeyed down the stairs, passing all the other apartments with people lucky enough to live on the first floor. My dad brought his phone and a black thermos with him. He put up his hood and held the front door open. The lingering clouds blocked the moon and the stars, but I wouldn¡¯t be able to see them anyway without glasses. Muggy air fell around me. Through a wall of fir trees, a dirt path led us through the thick of the woods. It continued up a small hill and branched into many directions. Dad kept me from going any further, and we stopped in the middle of the forest. The foliage created a ceiling, enveloping us in gold and emerald. And nearby was a huge, shimmering, crystal pond, with an old, fallen tree as a stairway down. I never saw something so clear. I couldn''t stop myself from spinning to see everything happening around me. I pointed to one of the widest and tallest trees. ¡°Look at that!¡± ¡°I know,¡± my dad said, snapping about twenty pictures on his phone. He recoiled as water droplets fell on his hand. ¡°Do we have to go to church on Saturday?¡± I asked. ¡°Why? You don¡¯t want to go?¡± Dad wiped his hand on his jacket. ¡°I just wanted to stay here.¡± ¡°Mr. Dantes wanted to see us. And the food might be really good. You¡¯ve been there before. That¡¯s the church we used to go to. You don¡¯t remember?¡± ¡°Kinda.¡± He continued to take more pictures, and never answered my original question. I rolled up my sweatshirt sleeves to feel the smooth air. I took a deep breath and let it all in. My dad touched my shoulder. I put on my glasses. He pointed to a rotting wooden sign with words written in white paint marker: Private Property! ¡°Are we allowed to be here?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°I meant to ask you.¡± ¡°I thought you came here before.¡± "Only once, but you know how people are. We should head back. It''s almost twelve.¡± ¡°Does it count if it looks like a toddler made it?" ¡°Be nice to yourself for once.¡± ¡°My handwriting isn¡¯t that bad.¡± The air started to cool a bit. My dad started back down the trail. I noticed the shimmering of the pond again. It continued for so long, even shrinking into a small stream that continued through a mess of thorn bushes. How did I never notice it before? I decided not to take a picture and move on. A chip of the rotting sign stuck in my sleeve. It almost cut through my skin. Maroon The restaurant cleared of any customers. I played with one of the stuffed bunnies we kept in the abandoned claw machine. It was so neglected that we could just slide open the clear top and take any toy we wanted. Only I ever did that, though. It was embarrassing, even if most of the customers never eat inside the restaurant. I didn''t usually wear a name tag, so it¡¯s not like they¡¯d remember who I was. Lucky for me, the school year ended a week ago, and today was my final day. I tossed my book bag in the manager''s office, which was about the size of a small classroom. A flat-screen in the top corner of the room. No windows. Just a pile of nonsense documents on a small desk. I leaned against the navy blue walls under the one flickering orange light. I heard the others outside the room. "Darien?" I heard. "You¡¯re still here?¡± It was Casper. She hooked onto the door frame and held out her hand. Her hand felt like that of an older brother''s. Or from what I know about older brothers. Her skin is a bit darker than my almond skin. She has broad shoulders and clothes that draped over her figure. And dwarfs me with her height. ¡°I wanted to help clean up,¡± I said. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m gonna head out now.¡± "Isn¡¯t it raining?¡± "I got an umbrella. Not for the bike, but it''s something.¡± Though I didn¡¯t want to, I followed her back into the dining area. We sat near the front counter. Casper took her red Salvatore''s Pasta and Bread cap and tossed it in the middle of the table. Mr. Hollenstein emerged from the kitchen and stood under the dim light behind the counter. He was our boss¡ªa former army man who gained a few pounds and seemed to have gotten shorter. His skin is always rosy and his hair is graying, shaggy, and falls to his ears. He slammed his fist into the countertop and pointed to us. "Casper, ready to go? One last delivery then you can go home for the night. 103 Relic Road." "I know." Casper rolled her eyes. ¡°Do you have to keep telling me? He was less of a boss and more of an uncle. Just another out of the eight I already had. Another employee named Alex set two black and green pizza boxes on the counter. He was tall, with a black and blue ponytail, and spoke with a slight Italian accent. "Sorry, I didn''t think people ordered this late. Maybe we should change the hours again." "You don''t fix what isn''t broken,¡± Hollenstein said. ¡°Whatever. At least we¡¯ve successfully attracted all the weirdos.¡± ¡°Just in time for summer. Didn¡¯t think we¡¯d make it this far.¡± Casper lumbered over to the counter and held one of the pizza boxes. She looked inside. "What is this? A buffet pizza?" "He said he wanted everything except garlic," Alex explained. "I just did what he asked." "Whatever. I¡¯ll make it quick." ¡°Can I go too, Mr. H?¡± I asked. He snickered. ¡°You¡¯re still here? Trying to make the last day count?¡± I shrugged. ¡°I just thought it sounded fun.¡± ¡°You know I can¡¯t pay you for that, right?¡± I nodded and carried on. We started through the kitchen, where the few cooks we had hung up their aprons, and left out the back door. Fog stuffed the air and stuck to my hands. Our motorcycles were parked beside each other alongside the restaurant. They were both lime green with black handles and a giant box on the back of it that read the restaurant¡¯s name. She flipped open the top and placed the boxes inside. At least the pizza won¡¯t get sick. ¡°You don¡¯t have to come if you don¡¯t want to, you know,¡± she reminded me as she buckled her helmet. ¡°I want to go,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s really dark out.¡± ¡°I know.¡± We got on our bikes and left the back parking lot. Our bikes vibrated from the gravel scattered across the road. After riding through the streets of downtown Caedispear, where the shops and caf¨¦s still resembled how they did a hundred years ago, we took a back road. Peach blossom trees caved in on the dirt path. The pool of soft golden light left behind us. Ahead, only murky teal skies. The thing is¡­ I didn¡¯t actually know where we were going. I just followed Casper¡¯s every move. Eventually we reached a narrow, dirt road with a single, two story house sitting by the shallow woods. Its orange porch lights were the only thing guiding us. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Casper''s bike braked. Mine hit the back of hers. Rocks poked at the wheels and stopped them from turning. Drizzling turned to a shower. The water seeped through our caps. Ahead, just a mass of fog plaguing our sight. "Are we out of gas?" I asked, most of it drowned out by thunder. "No, we''re just stuck," she said. "There''s a lot of mud here. At least we''re here. Maybe they can help." Her bike trembled and so did mine. I jumped off and splashed in the muddy water. I couldn''t lift my leg to walk from the thick mud doming my shoes. The thunder crashed against the sky. My breathing was erratic. I was drenched from head to toe. Something nuzzled against my ankle. I looked down to find something I only saw in pictures and movies: a grown fox. Their red fur was covered in dirt and flattened by the rain. I could only stand there, not moving a muscle. Casper jumped off her bike and hid behind it. "C-Casper," I hissed. ¡°Help me!¡± "What do you want me to do?" she snapped under her breath. ¡°Rev your bike or something.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not wasting any gas.¡± I scanned the ground for a stick and found a thin branch. I stuck it in the mud at the bike wheels. No luck, but the fox backed away. They whimpered as I stabbed the air by their legs. I took a deep breath... then sprinted after it into the nearby forest. I ignored the twigs and leaves brushing against my skin¡ªI just wanted the fox gone. The grass grew taller the further I ran. Splash! My foot was submerged in water. I looked down, and saw I was ankle deep in black pond water. Everything fell quiet. I panted, and looked around for the fox, but she was gone. "Where''d you go?" I whispered. I noticed the water rippling ahead. The fox! They swam in the murky water, covered in vines and leaves. Water spilled from her gaping mouth as she cleared her lungs. After another thunder crash and shriek, her head dipped below the surface. I felt my eyes heat up, though I didn¡¯t know why. It happened so quickly. I gripped the stick in my hand. It was long enough to reach out. But foxes can swim, can''t they? Why didn''t this one? I waved the stick through the pond, feeling around for fur or a paw or something. ¡°Sorry,¡± I whispered. ¡°Darien!¡± Casper called through the storm. ¡°Come on! It''s pouring out here!¡± I blinked tears away and trudged back to my bike. Casper checked if her wheels moved in the sludge. ¡°Nevermind.¡± She sucked her teeth and swiped the pizza boxes from the back. Mini lights decorated the short, stone path to the porch. Casper banged her irritation on the door, every waiting second doubling the endless night. The door opened and behind it was a teenager about my age. A mess of inky hair veiled their face and big maroon eyes that were barely visible. He was cloaked in a black hoodie. "Good evening," Casper greeted. ¡°Drexel?¡± He sighed in relief. ¡°That¡¯s me. Thank you. I¡¯m starving.¡± He stepped out of the house some more and called, "Lady! Lady! Food''s here! Come on, Lady!" Casper and I glanced at each other. He turned to us. "Did you see a red fox? With black and white fur on her tail? She had some gray fur on her neck, too." "Sorry, we didn''t," Casper said. "Dangit. She probably ran in the backyard. Thanks, anyway.¡± He yanked a ten dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her. Casper¡¯s lips curled. ¡°I like your name,¡± I said. He glared at me, his droning red eyes reading into mine. His fingernails ripped into the pizza box like claws. ¡°Sorry about your fox,¡± I said. ¡°She must''ve ran off.¡± ¡°Probably couldn''t eat it anyway,¡± he spat. ¡°Bye bye! Goodnight!¡± "Enjoy you¡ª¡± He whisked himself inside and slammed the door shut. Casper and I shuddered our way back to our bikes. He must''ve known. Maybe he saw me chasing his fox into the forest from the window and gave me what I deserved. I didn¡¯t want to see them cry their eyes out over a pet, but maybe that was better than lying about it. ¡°Wait,¡± I said. ¡°We forgot to ask for help.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll just have to get them unstuck ourselves and ride back,¡± Casper sighed. With the rain loosening the mud from the wheels, Casper¡¯s bike was free with a nudge. And with a little elbow grease, so was mine. We hopped on and drove back down the dirt street, eventually fading to the paved road. Passing downtown, I glanced at the few people sitting around parked cars, listening to music out loud and eating. All talking with each other, laughing, and nodding along to the beat. I didn''t know them or what they were laughing about. I didn''t know Drexel either. So why would I know what ticked him off? I had nothing to do with it, probably. I had nothing to do with it. But that stupid fox. Maybe the endless downpour got to me. Or was it something else that finally got to me. Whatever it was, I was going to pay the pr¡ª ¡°Darien, pay attention!¡± I was drifting against the line of parked cars hugging the sidewalk. I served back into the lane. ¡°Sorry!¡± I gasped. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Everything went how it usually did. We parked our bikes behind the restaurant and said goodnight to the others¡ªwith an extra goodbye from me. I gave Mr. Hollenstein and Alex a big hug before I parted from Salvatore¡¯s for good. Then I walked back home. The three, brick apartment buildings stood around a huge, square parking lot, one of them being Court Hall. Once inside, I wandered up three flights of stairs and finally met the small white lounge with five doors. The keys slipped from my fingers about three times before I walked inside Apartment 10. Ghosts An hour after my dad left for the public park in the morning, I left to visit 103 Relic Road. It had been a week since the fox incident. My guilt bubbled over that night, so I wanted to make amends, but procrastination got the best of me and I waited and waited till now. Even though I''d consider myself good with directions, I pulled up the street on my phone. I pulled the bike out of the rack outside Court Hall and journeyed through the town. The blue sky was clearer than it has ever been. I still had my Salvatore¡¯s cap to keep the beaming sun out of my eyes. After fifteen minutes, I reached the house. With the sunlight, I could see it clearly this time. It was made of sandy, marbled brick, with a perfectly trimmed lawn and barely any decorations. It looked like it was built just yesterday. "Over here!" someone called behind me. I turned around to see Drexel. He wore a long, black band shirt and red cargo shorts. Sitting in a lawn chair by the forest, he sucked on some orange slices and threw the dry flesh into the grass for a raccoon to eat. It chewed for a few seconds, spit it out, and clapped its tiny paws together for real food. ¡°You picky fiends,¡± he sneered. ¡°Didn¡¯t anyone tell you all the healthy bits are in the peel?¡± ¡°What about the other fruits?¡± I said, walking up to him. He looked at his lap, where he had a big, glass bowl of fruit salad. ¡°They probably throw away the crust too,¡± he joked. ¡°Here.¡± He grabbed a scoop of his salad and set it in the grass. ¡°Why didn''t you peel the orange slices?¡± I asked. ¡°Challenge,¡± he said. ¡°And speaking of peels, or crust I guess, the pizza was delicious.¡± ¡°Aww, thank you. I didn''t think you recognized me.¡± ¡°Of course I did. Did you leave something here?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ no. I just wanted to let you know about something. About your pet fox.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°Something happen? Did you see her?¡± ¡°I did. Last week. But I was scared, so¡­¡± I kept my voice from shattering. ¡°I chased them through the woods behind you, and they fell in a pond.¡± He squinted in confusion, still popping grapes into his mouth. ¡°She drowned?¡± he asked, like he was taking my order for fried or scrambled eggs. I nodded. ¡°Sorry. I should''ve helped¡­ I wanted to apologize to your parents, too.¡± ¡°So that''s where she is¡­ Surely she''s fine now.¡± ¡°N-no. I said she drowned.¡± ¡°And you wanted to apologize?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ Sure, but you have to promise me something.¡± I perked up. He waved for me to come closer. ¡°I don¡¯t really live here,¡± he whispered. ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± I asked. ¡°Is this a vacation house?¡± ¡°Not exactly. Just follow me.¡± I followed him through a natural pathway through the thick forest. Maybe I took the rain for granted. I preferred it over the blazing sun. We went up a slight hill, where the roots ended and a vast, green meadow began. The grass and pollen-ridden flowers reached up to my knees. Leaving the sea of leaves was like walking through a lush curtain into paradise. The scent of pine and dew filled the air around me. Butterflies danced and a faint light sprinkled the ground. In the distance, tucked into a forest like an abandoned chest in an attic was a black castle made of shadow. Branches seemed to grow all over it. I didn''t know what the towers-like structures on the top of it were called, but they resembled needles. The windows reflected nothing but black, even with a bit of sunlight falling through. They must¡¯ve been tinted. A sparkling pond sat in the middle of the yard. ¡°Don¡¯t you get worried about the pond overflowing?¡± I asked. ¡°No, but it does sometimes,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t care at all. Ponds keep you cool in the summer. So do the trees.¡± ¡°And this is a real castle?¡± ¡°What''s a fake castle?¡± ¡°It''s just that I never heard of one being here.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Think of it as an abnormally large, castle-shaped manor, hidden by an abnormally large forest.¡± Our shoes met solid rock. Cobblestone. It stretched down a long, wide path that disappeared in the grass. I looked back and saw how isolated we were. I started to wonder if time really passed at all. I swung my arms back and forth at my sides. We approached the door. Just a regular-sized door. ¡°It¡¯s certainly a house,¡± I muttered. Drexel opened the door. The front room was less extravagant than I expected. Just a large indoor porch, with bare wooden walls and floor, and naked windows lining the room¡ªno curtains or blinds. Not what I would expect from a castle. I turned to him, puzzled, and he shrugged like he knew I was thinking. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. There were a few cushioned chairs sitting around, an art easel, and several framed pictures on the wall. I wanted to study the faces in the pictures, but it felt like an invasion of privacy. Tall, double doors up ahead led to another room¡ªanother room that I couldn¡¯t even see. My footprints echoed on marble and faded in the soft carpet. Darkness shrouded every wall, every piece of furniture. ¡°Is this the living room?¡± I asked. "You two can sit wherever you like,¡± he said. ¡°Just don''t leave the room. I''ll be back.¡± ¡°I can''t see very well.¡± Without responding to me, he disappeared in a distant hallway. Was it a living room or not? After a few seconds of silence, I heard the echo of a wooden door closing. Then, clacking against the tile floor. An orange glow fell onto a glass dinner table. A wax, cinnamon candle. And a woven, ruby and black carpet below. I took a seat, only to realize it wasn¡¯t a coffee table, but a field-long polished wood table, harboring bowls of fruits and vegetables. Then, golden flames sparked on the torches around the room, though most of the decorations and furniture were difficult to see. I heaved a deep sigh and dug my face into my hands. Don¡¯t leave the room? Why? Two more torches lit the ornate walls. I could feel my eyes sparkling. "He should be down in a few," Drexel said, standing right next to me. I flinched! ¡°Weren¡¯t you just¡ªwhere did you¡ª¡± ¡°Want a snack? I have everything! Chips, cookies, I made brownies yesterday¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay. I had a big breakfast.¡± ¡°Important question: why in the world do you want to apologize in person? I¡¯ll tell him myself.¡± ¡°Because I did it. Did none of you notice that your pet was missing?¡± Clacking of heels echoed yards away. Breathing. A heartbeat. I flinched at a low, distinct... "Good afternoon.¡± Though it was deep, its melody bled through it all. It cut through the silence like a dagger. He had a mixed accent¡ªsomewhat Eastern European and maybe British. Emerging from the curtain of shadow was a man. Just under the height of a door. Tall, ink hair combed back and fell down to his shoulders. A black gown draped over his entire body. The shy candlelight left a lot to wonder. My heart went frantic. My voice tripped. "Good morning¡ªI mean evening. I mean, afternoon.¡± "I don''t think I know you," he said. "One moment¡­" He cleared his throat and called to the door. "Lady! Come here my Lady!" Silence. "Strange." He looked to Drexel. ¡°Have you seen Lady? Is she still on her playdate?¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask our guest?¡± he said. The man walked closer, eyes searching for an answer, which fell on me. Beautiful. Striking. And strangely, red. "T-There are foxes in Delaware?" I asked. "There are lots!" He sounded more passionate explaining the fox population. "I actually had five, but four of them passed. I have one left: Lady. I let her out the door last week to play. She''s six. You know foxes have great noses. If you met her, she¡¯d recognize your scent in an instant.¡± "Oh. Well, in fact, I did see a fox running outside last week. I helped deliver the pizza from Salvatore¡¯s.¡± ¡°I might order another one tomorrow.¡± I chuckled. ¡°Before we did, our bikes got stuck in the mud by your other house, and a fox started nuzzling me. I got scared and chased her¡­ into a pond. She drowned. Sorry.¡± I could¡¯ve been more delicate. Silence rose in the room. I wished I could see the man¡¯s eyes; whether they were smoking in anger, or in despair. Flashes of cold went through me. My heart raced so much, I had no breath to speak. I avoided Drexel''s gaze, if that was his actual name. It didn''t sound like a real name, to be honest. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A call from my dad. I looked back up to the man. "I should head home,¡± I said. ¡°My dad''s calling." "I understand. Get home safely.¡± He seemed unaffected by what I just admitted. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry! I¡¯ll make it up to you. I can get you a free pizza if you want. Or do you want something else?¡± ¡°That sounds nice, but I don''t wish for anything. And don¡¯t ferment in your guilt. It¡¯ll only make it worse.¡± "Thank you for listening, sir.¡± "You too. Have a great day.¡± My frantic heart slowed. Drexel led me outside. They didn''t take a second glance at me. Dark storm clouds rolled into the sky. Drops of rain showered the yard. Another Drexel stood by in the doorway, staring into the sky and letting the rain wet the wooden porch. "Were you telling the truth about Lady?" he whispered, closing the door. "Is she really dead?" I sighed. ¡°She drowned right in front of me.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sure she¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°Please. Don¡¯t worry about it, okay?¡± He was dour, but seemed more intent on me not worrying about it than his pet dying. ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around. I¡¯m still really sorry.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be. You didn¡¯t mean it.¡± He gave me a dull grin and waved goodbye as I walked back down the path. The forest floor quickly became a swamp. A streak of red fur slithered through the distant trees. Then, a big red fox sprouted from the darkness, sprinting past me and right out of the forest. She eeked and chittered, running to the castle. She leaped into Drexel¡¯s arms and danced circles around him. That¡¯s what I expected, at least. She just sat down, picked up a stick with her mouth, and dropped it in front of him. Drexel petted her and tossed the stick across the yard like he was resuming a game of fetch after a bathroom break. Sure, Lady¡¯s tail wagged in delight and Drexel smiled¡­ slightly. Nevermind that. It warmed my heart, nonetheless. It wasn¡¯t my movie to watch. Maybe Drexel just wasn¡¯t expressive in that way. And Lady is a wild animal¡ªnot a gerbil, but not exactly an elephant, either. She probably blacked out in the pond and was just happy to be out of the water later, not recalling the terrifying event that had just happened. Lady pranced back with the stick in her teeth for another go. Drexel gently grabbed it and shot the stick right through the woods. It whipped and spun in the air like a boomerang before a brutal, echoing gash! deep in the forest. Drexel didn¡¯t even seem to hear it as Lady dashed to retrieve it like she hadn¡¯t been missing for seven days. My relief grew somber when I knew the warm smile I wore was just another tensed muscle. It wasn¡¯t because Lady was alive. It was because Drexel was, too. The Eternal Evening I was confused as to why we parked outside of an old daycare center, until I read the giant sign out front. This was the church, but not all of it. The small building was connected to a larger manor concealed by trees and shadow, but still smaller than what I expected. Light shone through every window, despite it still being bright out. The cars were all parked in the surrounding gravel against metal fences. Though the sky was blue, the isolated road we found ourselves on became more uncomfortable as we sat. ¡°Can we drive by the old house later?¡± I asked. ¡°Maybe, if it¡¯s not too late when we leave.¡± He turned off the radio and collected his bookbag. How long were we going to be here? I was tired just thinking about it. Dad bought his thermos with him, even though there would be plenty of drinks for us. I brought my notebook with me in my satchel so I wouldn¡¯t get bored. I doubted I¡¯d actually write anything. We got out of the car and walked up to the building. Inside was a cozy dining area with two long tables filled with food. It didn¡¯t look like a church, but I assumed the nave was somewhere else in the building. The floor had cherry and black tiled carpeting, which I knew I had seen before. Golden lights hung from the ceiling. Slow jazz music played from the speakers, though it was too loud to be calming. There were so many people, none of whom I¡¯ve ever met. It¡¯s like they were all related to each other, seamlessly blending into a friendly group. My dad soon disappeared in the crowd. Everyone became giant as I weaved through the unfamiliar faces. They towered over me, even the little kids. Voices melted together. I scanned everywhere for a hallway or another room, like I usually did in these situations. No one ever noticed when I left. There was a hallway peeking from the very end of the room. I pushed through the surprisingly heavy doors, nearly jumping out my skin at the boom they made when they closed. Hopefully they all thought I was a janitor or something. The endless corridor behind it was lit with sconces. I gleaned all the rooms as I walked down. and finally found one that wasn¡¯t a storage room or full of kids. Black circular tables filled each corner along with small bookshelves of picture books. There were no windows or posters on the wall, like it was recently furnished. I flicked on the tall lamp in the corner. But then, I felt like I made a mistake. What if I wasn¡¯t allowed to be back there? I noticed a bulletin board on the wall, plastered with notecards of names written in bad handwriting. It was a Sunday School room. That made me feel worse. Now I had to muster the courage to go back out, seeing the stunned faces following the loud boom of the doors. There had to be another way out. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I left the room and looked down the hall. After standing motionless for a few minutes, I followed my gut and found an abandoned room linking back to the main area through a rickety door. It took me to a neglected corner of the nave where the light didn¡¯t reach. Giant, fake plants and stacks of chairs hid me from everyone. A smile crossed my face. I spotted my dad nearly snapping his arms carrying a case of Sprite cans. A woman with his same arms hauled it in one breath onto the rose table. He tried again with a tin tray of macaroni. If he dropped it, I wouldn''t be his son anymore. From the chattering locals, a tall, suited man took the tray. His silky black hair fell over his shoulders in a ponytail. He had dark, coffee skin. I appeared beside them and grabbed a can of Sprite. "Dariberry, you came out of hiding!" Dad tried to smile through his tired breaths. ¡°Come on! Talk to someone. Did you talk to Mr. Dantes?¡± "I was just thirsty," I shrugged. "I''m going back." "Oh. Did you want any mac and cheese? Or dessert?" "Uh, not now. I''m just thirsty." ¡°But you didn''t eat breakfast.¡± I tried avoiding the other man''s line of sight as I glanced around the room. He smiled at my dad. His voice was deep and melodic. ¡°You take a seat somewhere. We''ll eat together." "Wow¡­¡± Dad rubbed his arms. ¡°That''s very nice of you.¡± He pulled a soda can from the case and slipped through the crowd to find a spot at one of the long tables. I only realized then that the man was Mr. Dantes. I only saw him once before, but heard his name everyday when Dad was on the phone. He revealed a smartwatch under his suit cuff. He scoffed and looked up at the giant curtained window above us. No sunlight lit through the red drapery. I was so taken in by it, I didn''t feel Dantes''s hand on my shoulder. "You''re Darien, right?" he smiled. "Your father talks about you a lot." I nodded. "Why were you hiding?" "It''s too crowded in here,¡± I mumbled. He laughed. "Do you know Drexel? He¡¯s eating outdoors.¡± ¡°Drexel? You know him?¡± ¡°I¡¯m his guardian. Or adopted father. Mr. Vincent never mentioned him?¡± ¡°I knew you had a son, but that''s all¡­ Do you have an accent?¡± ¡°Plain American.¡± ¡°Must¡¯ve misheard. Does Drexel have another guardian? And do you have a fox?¡± ¡°That would be news to me. And yes, I do have a lovely fox. You have a lot of questions today.¡± ¡°Sorry, I just¡­ I''m probably misremembering something. I¡¯m gonna go outside.¡± "I''ll let you to it. Have a wonderful evening.¡± The Eternal Twilight Outside, a single car flew by, and its engine faded with the distance. Around it was nothing. Gold and purple clouds colored the sky and the heavy mist hugged me like a warm blanket. I sat on a black wooden bench by the side of the church¡ªthe side that faced the forest. Across the street was a small graveyard sitting in front of a long river, with a wooden bridge connecting it to the rustic town square. Even though it wasn¡¯t night yet, the sunset bathed tombstones cast a harsh, creepy shadow on the grass. I didn¡¯t realize how long I was sitting outside for. I ate my food in silence, admiring the outdoors for the first time in a while. No rain. No muddy bikes. No cars. But even without those things, I never noticed how loud it really was outside. There were birds, bats, rustling trees, distant tractors, the chatter from inside the church, and so on. The trees were like a net into the deep abyss of the forest. The only thing separating me and it was a worn metal fence tangled in vines and overgrown bushes and flowers. It lured me for minutes on end. In my trance, I walked over and realized the fence was unlocked. I nudged it open. Fog hung in the branches and leaves, with damp flowers and grass spreading its floral perfume. I took a few pictures of the nature as I traveled. Sticks and damp soil crunched under my shoes as the light quickly faded. Something shimmered in the dark ahead. All I could see was gleaming metal, surrounded by black. Just a floating, silver doorknob. I turned on my phone''s flashlight. It wiggled in a gritty, aged door. A house? How could there be a house just sitting in the middle of the woods? In my ignorance, I didn''t even feel the terracotta path I walked on. The house grew taller the more I looked up at it. First it was two stories, then three, then four. A giant, shadowy house, old and weathered, with two stories of moss-framed windows, and ripped curtains and veils strewn all over it. Like it could¡¯ve been made of smoke¡­ Can we drive to the old house? It was real! The shadow house. The one I scared myself with for hours. It rotted and became one with dirt and trees. The doorknob hung by a loose screw, silver paint peeling and chipping off. Surely it wasn''t locked. I knocked. No one answered. After a few more minutes, I tried again, and nothing. And on the third knock, the door flew open and busted the wall behind it. Jittering in fear, I peeked inside and called out, ¡°Sorry!¡± The narrow hall in front of me was dark and bleek, with only a slither of gray light from the far window. I stepped inside. Pure silence. ¡°Hello?¡± I called. ¡°Your door''s unlocked!¡± I felt something touch my arm. ¡°YEEEK!¡± I squealed. I stumbled back into a mass of fabric and metal and hit the floor. In my heart rushing panic, I shooed and swung at the air, but nothing was hitting me back. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Because it was a coat rack. I breathed, then jumped at realizing I was sitting in a bunch of dirty jackets. ¡°Ugh, gross¡­¡± But the hallway¡ªit gave me the creeps. A giant staircase made up the left wall beside me, freezing me in place. Shadow lingered at the top of the flight, leftover Christmas decorations hung on the rail, and the steps creaked on their own. ¡°Hello?¡± I called again, setting the coat rack back up. ¡°I¡¯ll leave now!¡± No one answered, and I didn¡¯t leave. I peered around the corner to gaze at the top of the stairs. It was like an old photograph. Heavenly light dripped on the few bottom stairs. Like it was dead. Like people died here. The bitter dirt I smelled could''ve been ashes. The light was a reminder of a grim reality. Peeling walls. Hollow stairs. Old, forgotten slippers. A grim reality that I imagined, but scared me nonetheless. Upstairs and down the hall, something fell in one of the rooms. I flicked the lightswitch, but there was no light. I kept switching until the panel came right out of the wall. The switch hung by my fingers as the rest dangled by colored wires in the wall. I tried screwing it back in with my fingernails, but even the screws were worn, its thread eroded. The shelf at the end of the hall, stuffed with books, held a ghost that breathed in my presence. As I got closer, I distinguished the books from the wide array of candy wrappers, loose leaf notebook paper, and school folders. A cloud of dust puffed from each step on the old carpet. I slightly pulled on one of the folders when a small circle of pink construction paper drifted to the floor. At the top were bubbly printed instructions that read: In the space below, write nouns related to school. Words like ¡°markers¡±, ¡°bus¡±, and ¡°globe¡± were written in sloppy handwriting. It clearly belonged to a child. I felt sticky residue on the back. Maybe it was glued in a notebook before. I slipped it back in between two folders and continued looking around. A warm breeze, along with the strong smell of leaves floating in the air. Beside me was the room where I heard something fall in. I turned on the fading, orange light. Yep, it was definitely old. A dusty, box TV sat on the floor in the corner with a bunch of DVDs stacked on top. The bed had a single blanket hanging from the otherwise naked mattress, and toy skateboards and crayons peaked from under the bed, The sunlight died behind the broken blinds and sheer white curtains. They shifted slightly, and along with the stronger warm draft, I figured the window was left open. The screen panel that should''ve been there was sitting on the floor, torn. But that wasn''t what caught my eye the most. Across from the window, buried in foliage, was a giant, wooden treehouse. A real treehouse! There wasn''t a ladder I could see, or even a rope to climb. A huge window facing me allowed me to see inside. Beautiful. And since the house was abandoned, who''s to say the treehouse wasn''t, too? Creak!! I looked behind me. The door was wide open. I hurried to close it. Chills rose in my face and my arms, but I swallowed any tension I had. I kept my ear to the door for what felt like ages, my breathing more erratic and hot every second. I had to leave. But as I slowly reopened the door, I heard another noise¡ªcreaking from the staircase. Oh no! My heart leaped. I rushed inside the nearby closet. Although I soon realized it wasn¡¯t a closet¡ªit was a huge, dark attic. I pulled my shirt over my nose from the suffocating smell of sawdust and dirt marinating for decades around me. Slivers of gray light peaked through the broken floor panels and under the door. I held my breath, staying still to not make any noise. Someone knocked on the door. ¡°Is someone in here?¡± they asked. ¡°The floor is really weak. You should leave.¡± It was a teenager, but I didn¡¯t know whether they were a boy or a girl. The door was so hollow and thin that it might as well not have been there. I watched the bottom of the door, waiting for the slight shadow of their shoes to leave. It didn¡¯t. They knocked again. ¡°Hello? I''m not mad.¡± I took in a deep breath. At some point in the midst of waiting for them to leave, my eyelids grew heavy. My daydreaming rippled and scrambled. I occasionally woke up from my daze, but I was too tired. I fell asleep. Ressurection The sun beamed down on the parking lot this morning. I could barely look straight without the white reflections from the car dazzling me. Dad filled the trunk with heavy cardboard boxes, all marked by the genre of book inside. His handwriting was very messy for a writer. He dabbed his forehead with his sleeve after lifting the last box. I stood by Mr. Harker, who leaned on the side of the car, unbothered by the heat. His golden hair and silver eyes sparkled in the sun, and he had no trouble wearing a black, long sleeve shirt. It was sweating just looking at him. He handed me a hardcover book, with an oil painting of a lighthouse on the front. ¡°Here you are,¡± he said. He had a posh, English accent, though I didn¡¯t know where he was from. I pursed my lips, and opened the book: Dracula Chapter I I looked up. ¡°Look, there¡¯s only so many copies of Capsule Bay,¡± Harker pushed. He stuffed his hands into his khaki dress pants and looked out at the parking lot. ¡°At least it¡¯s not Oedipus,¡± I said, dryly. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Don¡¯t you like vampires?¡± ¡°Yeah, but I also like things I can understand.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t understand it? It¡¯s not that old. Just a bit over a hundred years ago.¡± I sighed, and put it in my satchel, next to the take-out container of pancakes. ¡°Don¡¯t spoil the cover!¡± Harker exclaimed. ¡°I don¡¯t want syrup all over it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like syrup, remember?¡± ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll see you later, alright?¡± ¡°You too!¡± Mr. Harker got in the passenger seat of the car. Dad closed the trunk and rubbed my shoulder. His messy bangs were stringy from sweat. I didn¡¯t know why he wanted to stand in the park all day selling books. ¡°And you¡¯re one-hundred-percent sure he¡¯s your friend?¡± he asked me. ¡°It¡¯s really him!¡± I said. ¡°I told you, already.¡± ¡°I just want to make sure. You never know. He could be a bully, now.¡± ¡°And you didn¡¯t say this before I packed an entire suitcase?¡± ¡°Well¡­ Guess I just couldn¡¯t believe it.¡± He patted me on the back, and soon, he and Mr. Harker were off to the park. Sadly for me, I had to wait for Casper to pick me up. There was no way I was hauling a suitcase across town, or risking Dad seeing the creepy castle. Never Heard That Name Before In a half hour, we approached the castle. The sky was a pale blue with black storm clouds in the distance. It was still super hot outside, despite that. Casper parked in the gravel leading into the grassy field. The rest of the way was on foot. We met the front door, and I took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. In a few minutes, someone finally met us. "Hey Darien!" Mitchell said with a small, shy smile. ¡°And Casper.¡± "Hi Mitchell!" I waved. "I''m so excited! I wanna see around!" "You need to get inside first. Are both of you coming?¡± Casper held her phone up, showing the time. "I have stuff to do at home. Call me if you need a ride, Darien.¡± "Got it. Bye!" She lost balance a few times walking down the damp path. Now I was alone. Or not totally alone, I guess. Mitchell waved me inside and locked the door behind us. The last time I stepped in, everything was engulfed in black besides the wall of candles behind the man. But now, I saw a giant rotunda. The chandelier high above showered its golden light, with glass beads hanging below like frozen raindrops. Polished mahogany columns and wooden molding of crosses repeated around the room. Halfway to the sky-high ceiling was a surrounding balcony of the second floor. I looked over to Mitchell with a huge grin, until I remembered he¡¯s seen all of this before. For a few years, in fact. His eyes went to the first chair he saw at the table ahead. Just a regular, wooden table. He pulled it out, along with one next to it. ¡°So¡­ Is this a dining room?¡± I set my satchel on the table. ¡°I brought some pancakes. And a British lemon candy. He pursed his lips and shrugged. ¡°Basically. We just call it the Rotunda.¡± ¡°Cool!¡± I sat down in the chair. Mitchell counted to ten on his fingers, then once over without looking. When he was done, he stared at his reflection on the wooden table. "Mitchell?" I set my hand on his reflection. ¡°I prefer ¡®Drexel¡¯,¡± he said. ¡°Oh. Sorry¡­¡± ¡°It''s okay. Can I see those pancakes?¡± ¡°Yeah! I''m hungry¡­¡± I set the containers on the table. He smiled. The conversation fizzled and the silence of the room lingered. A comfortable silence I could sink into like a plush pillow. I could sit in my thoughts and admire the room. I noticed that all around the Rotunda were regular sized doors, like the ones in my apartment. Mitchell grabbed the plastic fork I put in the container and stuffed his face. ¡°Who else lives here?¡± I asked. ¡°Others,¡± he said after chewing. ¡°You can sit here for hours,¡± I sighed. ¡°Not fair.¡± ¡°You can too. It''s summer break.¡± ¡°... I don¡¯t know if I can.¡± ¡°Oh. Salvatore¡¯s?¡± ¡°No. I don¡¯t work there anymore. My last day was when I came to deliver the pizza. I was working part time after school, but my dad resigned me.¡± ¡°So why can''t you?¡± I shrugged. ¡°I dunno, but it¡¯s not as cool as being a vampire. Or I guess it depends on the type of vampire you are. You have a reflection, so you''re not a sleeping-in-a-coffin, dying-in-the-sunlight type.¡± The scent of frying pork traveled throughout the room. I was full just thinking about what was cooking. Mitchell sniffed the air. Clash! Clonk!!! I shivered. The sound echoed throughout the Rotunda. Mitchell shot out of his chair. "Drac! Are you okay in there?" Drac? I looked over where the sound came from. Far to our right was a black door, which I assumed was a kitchen. It opened. The musical sound of heels hitting tiles rung in my ears. Or maybe I just like how heels sound. Emerging from the door was a tall, statuesque man in a long, inky robe and poncho, with beautiful black hair falling over his shoulders. Most of it was combed over his head and pinned behind his eyes, revealing his stark widowspeak. But his skin¡­ Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. His skin was a deep, stone blue, with a hint of gray. As he walked over to the table with a silver tray of charcuterie, he smiled. "Hello, Drexel. Hello, Darien," he spoke with the deep voice I heard before. It was the same man I apologized to. He didn¡¯t look like a crazy ax-killer; he was beautiful! I sunk in my chair. ¡°You remember me?¡± "I do. And I don''t think I told you my name." He held out his hand. "You can call me Dracula." "What? Dracula? Like that Dracula?" "It''s my last name." ¡°You''re his descendant?¡± ¡°We''re one in the same.¡± I couldn''t muster a sound until I realized his hand was still outreached. ¡°Sorry!¡± I giggled. His fingernails were long and sharp. Mitchell rested his head on the cold table, his hair blanketing his head and shoulders. "I prepared a snack for you,¡± he exclaimed, waving his hand over the impressive snack tray. ¡°I don''t know if I made enough for you and your friend." ¡°I think you made too much,¡± Mitchell muttered, muffled from his sleeves. ¡°Wait, I thought vampires didn¡¯t need food,¡± I said, holding a cut piece of sausage in front of my face. No one answered. Dracula''s ruby studs shimmered in the natural light. He went to arrange the cheese and meats on the tray to be less of a mountain. He towered over me. "Friends, I''ll be leaving in a few minutes," he said. "Sorry our meeting will end so soon. I''m visiting a friend. And you know him very well, Darien.¡± "I do?" "Vincent Alo. He''s just lovely." I bit my tongue so hard it could''ve drawn blood. "My dad! How do you know him?¡± "I''ve ''ran into him'' a few times around Caedispear. But not as myself." No idea why he used quotes. ¡°Wait... Are you Mr. Dantes?¡± He smirked. ¡°No way. But how? Your skin¡­¡± ¡°Interesting, isn¡¯t it?¡± Dracula said. ¡°I wish I could talk more, but I must go. Maybe Drexel can explain. I¡¯ll see you later.¡± We waved at each other as he left through one of the dark hallways surrounding us. I opened my container of pancakes, and put the sausage pieces on top. ¡°Doesn¡¯t your dad feed you?¡± Mitchell asked. I blushed. ¡°I think it tastes good. What kind of sausage is this, anyway?¡± ¡°Blood.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s interesting! I¡¯ll get some more later.¡± ¡°Hmm. I¡¯m gonna go outside for a minute.¡± He got out his chair and ambled to the door, leaning against the frame and waiting for me to walk, too. He was so far away, but I felt his eyes piercing me. I took a few sausage bits off the tray and headed for the door. Once I met the cobblestone path outside, Mitchell, with steady breathing, gently closed the door. The blue sky outside was dusted with gray clouds and little sun peeking through. The thick foggy air hit me in the face, and fresh rain drizzled down. I took in the wet stones beneath me and felt the mist tickle my face. ¡°Sorry,¡± he whispered. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to make it awkward.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°With Dracula¡­ and the snack he made.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± He stood in silence and started kicking at the pebbles on the ground. I understood why he was stalling. I¡¯d think I sounded crazy if I told someone I was a supernatural creature. Or why I lived at a castle all the sudden. But I didn¡¯t get what was upsetting him. Did I really just talk to Dracula? I didn¡¯t even get to squeal over the fact I knew a vampire. Or that they even existed. Now I knew two! Dracula was different from how I¡¯d imagined before. His skin wasn¡¯t human, but it looked majestic nonetheless. He stood great over both of us, with his contagious aura and the slight wrinkles around his eyes and lips from years of smiling. But how would I know what he was hiding behind his eyes? As I looked up, the top of the castle soared higher and higher, the very top scratching the dark clouds. Not even the oldest oak trees behind it stood as tall. It still hid itself within the forest wall that I only saw as a backdrop to Caedispear¡¯s old houses and grocery stores. Why here of all places? The sausage bits were still scorching hot in my hand. I ate all of them in one bite. ¡°These are so good!¡± ¡°You actually ate the mess on the tray?¡± ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s just sausage. Pretty good.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Mitchell said something under his breath like, ¡°I guess that¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing. It sounds great.¡± The time on my phone didn¡¯t line up with my brain. Two hours passed from leaving the apartment to standing in drizzling rain. Mitchell leaned against the black bricks surrounding the doors. They were damp and with thin turquoise weeds tangling around it. The front door didn¡¯t have a stoop. Not even a couple small steps. Just the path cutting off at the bottom of a chipped, worn door. It was worn in a way that was worth more than my limbs. I leaned next to Mitchell, trying to see his face. It was hidden behind his hair. I moved a bit of his bangs with my finger. His eyes sparkled. But they weren¡¯t Mitchell¡¯s.