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chestnut-trotter · 3 months

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Victuals

Backstory for my oc Tom and how he got caught up in the world of vampires.

[art by me :3 pls follow my art account @acidic-chestnuts]

The rhythmic clinking of metal cutlery against ceramic filled the room. A warm glow from the various candles lit up the table the Claytons were sat at as they had their dinner. Thomas and his sister Olive were silent, because as long as their father was home, they were not permitted to speak unless spoken to.

‘Harriet next door still can’t find her two boys. It’s almost been three months now… poor thing.’ their mother said.

‘They’re not the only ones who’ve disappeared. Every week there’s a new headline reportin’ more missin’ persons,’ their father paused to put more food in his mouth, chewing as he spoke up again ‘and all them mutilated bodies they keep findin’.’

‘Kate heard it’s vampires.’

‘Don’t be daft woman! Vampires don’t exist.’

‘What else would it be?’

‘Psychopaths. Cultists. Somethin’ real.’

‘But you don’t know they’re not real. Kate said-’

‘Marie!’ he snapped, shooting a sharp glare at his wife. ‘Stop fillin’ our children’s heads with such nonsense.’ Their mother quickly shrunk into her seat, focusing intently on the food on her plate as she shuffled it around. Thomas knew that his father was right – vampires did not exist. They were just a bedtime story told to scare kids. Thomas was not a kid anymore; he was 15 years old. His younger sister Olive on the other hand, she was sweet and more innocent than most. He glanced to his right, noticing her trembling hands and empty stare.

Thomas frowned.

After the children were excused from the table, they shuffled obediently to their bedroom. Thomas could see his breath in front of him illuminated by the moonlight from the large window in their room, before disappearing. His body shivered violently, reminding him that the warmth from their dinner was slowly wearing off. Thomas desperately wanted to hide under the blankets on his bed and just sleep.

‘Tommy?’, Olive’s meek voice quickly caught his attention, who sat shivering on the edge of her own bed. ‘I’m- I’m scared.’

‘Ah, it’s no’ them vampires, is it?’

Olive only nodded silently in response; her eyes downcast at her fidgeting fingers. Thomas sighed quietly to himself as he walked over to his sister. He sat down on the bed next to her, its frame creaking painfully under the weight.

‘Ya’know, vampires aren’t real, right? They can’t hurt ya.’

‘But Mother said-’

‘Yeah, I know what she said… Bu’ Father says they aren’t, so they aren’t. He’s never wrong.’

Olive hummed half-heartedly in response, still not convinced. ‘Fletcher at school says he’s seen one before. He says he saw it kill a stray cat.’

‘Fletcher’s full o’ shit.’

Shit. Thomas overheard his father use it once when talking about his boss at work. He was not sure exactly what it meant, but he knew his mother would scold him for saying it. ‘Listen, ya’know I’ll protect ya. \Whether they’re vampires or no’, I’ll keep ya safe.’

She grinned at that, throwing her arms around Thomas’ bony frame, and burrowing into his chest. ‘Thanks Tommy! You’re the best.’ When Olive pulled away, Thomas tousled her hair and smiled down at her.

‘Now, ‘urry up an’ go to sleep. Father will yell at us if we don’t.’ Thomas said, standing up from his sister’s bed and heading back to his own.

Olive nodded in agreement, crawling under the mountain of woollen blankets on her bed. Her bright eyes now peering at Thomas from under the covers. ‘Good night.’

‘Nigh’, Olive.’

A strangled cry abruptly woke Thomas from his slumber. His eyes snaped open and his heart began to race. He sat up, peering into the darkness, trying to find his sister in her bed next to his. But clouds had now shrouded the night sky, swallowing the light of the full moon. He hoped it was nothing. That everything was okay and that he could just ignore it and go back to sleep. But another scream flooded his ears, quickly followed by a loud thump – it was nearby. Way too close for comfort.

‘Tommy...? What was that?’ Olive’s voice was as timid as a mouse. Thomas released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least Olive was still okay.

‘I- I don’t know.’ Completely blind, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and fumbled around for their bedside table in search of matches. Once his hands found the small box, he swiped it and slid it open. Pulling a matchstick out, he scratched it against the side of the box, once, twice, then finally on the third go, it lit with a sharp flash. Now able to see in front of him somewhat, he lit the wick of the candle and shook the flame out on the matchstick.

‘Tommy?’

‘I’m gonna go have a look. It’s- it’s probably nothing.’ Thomas said, forcing a smile onto his face. He draped one of his many blankets over his shoulders before standing up. Grabbing the candle by the chamberstick it sat in, he walked over to his sister to tousle her hair. This close to her, he could see fresh tears glistening in the light of the candle. ‘Jus’ stay here. Everything will be okay… promise.’

Thomas wanted to believe that everything would be okay. But he was having such a hard time convincing himself of this fact, that when he tried comforting Olive, the words felt heavy and foreign as they left his mouth.

Swallowing hard, he took a shaky step to leave the safety of their bedroom. As he approached the door, he stopped. Thomas’ head was screaming at him to tell Olive to hide under the bed or open their window and run to one of their neighbours to ask for help. But he just couldn’t bring himself say anything that would insinuate they were in any danger. Especially not after telling her that everything would be okay.

Biting his lip, Thomas turned around one last time to look at his sister in the dim glow of the candle. Her eyes were wide and brimmed with tears, like she was silently pleading him not to go and leave her alone. ‘Please come back safe, Tommy.’

‘O’ course.’

With shaky hands Thomas opened the door, being careful not to let it creak. Then, he slipped into the hallway, closing the door behind him, and leaving his sister all alone in the darkness.

It was eerily quiet. Thomas hated it. The hall looked a lot deeper than he remembered it being. The flame from the candle danced, creating figures that crept along the walls in the corners of Thomas’ eyes. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end. He silently begged his heart to stop beating so loud.

‘Man up.’ Thomas repeated his father’s words, willing himself forward. He scanned his surroundings as he treaded careful steps down the hall. He noticed the ajar door to his parents’ bedroom. Were they okay? Had his father left to check what the noise was too?

Thomas approached their room when a strong smell assaulted his nose. It hung in the air and felt sticky and left a metallic taste in his mouth. He gagged.

Thomas reached out and slowly pushed the door open. Before him were two bodies sprawled out on the bed. Red splattered all over the room. Then a pair of glowing eyes appeared, glaring at him from within the dark. Before Thomas even knew what was happening, he had been slammed against the wall behind him, a cold hand pinning him there by the neck. The chamberstick he had been holding now rattled on the floor as it spun on the spot, wick still lit. Without a light in his hands, Thomas couldn’t see the intruder’s face very well. Except for their eyes that blazed like embers in a fire.

‘What did I say about being swift? One of the brats are up.’ Despite the intruder staring daggers through Thomas, he knew that he was not addressing him when he spoke.

‘Why’s it matter? We were gonna kill em after anyways.’ A thick cockney voice responded from somewhere Thomas could not see.

The intruder’s grip on Thomas’ neck tightened as his head snapped around to address the other voice. ‘Imbecile.’ Now facing the candle’s light, he could see the intruder’s long fangs, bared in a snarl. ‘They could have escaped. Scampered away like the last lot.’

‘So what? We caught em anyways-’

‘I caught them, no thanks to you. Just shut up and go get the other one.’

The source of the other voice stepped out from the bedroom. Around his mouth was a dark red liquid, dripping down his chin and onto the front of his shirt. The sight made Thomas’ stomach churn. ‘If you’re so clever, then why don’t I take the one you’re holdin’ and you find the other kid.’

‘Because I’ve already caught this one. It’s my prey. Get your own… And for the last time, Brutus, don’t make such a mess when you eat. It’s revolting.’

The one called Brutus nonchalantly wiped his face with the back of his hand. He eyed Thomas up and down before trudging down the hall towards the siblings’ shared bedroom. Thomas’ heart almost burst out of his chest. His thoughts went to his sister, who he had left all alone, waiting for him.

It was then that something snapped in Thomas. He had been a passive observer, frozen from shock. What was he doing, just standing there watching everything unfold? He needed to do something quick. He promised he would protect Olive.

‘Wa- Wait! Leave her alone- Ack!’ Thomas barely managed to choke any words out before the intruder holding him pushed him further up the wall. Thomas was now at eye level with the intruder. His feet lamely thrashed about above the floor.

‘Know your place, brat.’

Thomas’ chest grew tighter. He clawed desperately at the hand clamped around his throat. Tears blurred his vision. His head grew heavy. Then like a cat playing with its food, the intruder released his grip on Thomas, letting him fall limp to the ground. As Thomas struggled to catch his breath, a shrill scream echoed through the house.

Olive.

The world was spinning. Thomas tried to stand up, only for the intruder to stomp his heeled boot into Thomas’ hand. He cried out in agony. Thomas tried to pry the intruder’s foot off his hand. He punched and pulled with what strength he had left but nothing was working. The intruder then knelt down to where Thomas lay crumpled on the floor.

‘Get off-a me.’

A cruel grin was etched into the intruder’s face. His fingers clasped Thomas’ chin between his index and thumb, turning his head this way and that, inspecting him as though he were a great artefact.

‘P-please… please let me go.’

Ignoring Thomas’ pleas, the intruder spoke. ‘This won’t do. No… This just won’t do at all. You’re too nice to just throw away like your ratbag parents. I’m surprised Brutus could stomach their filthy blood. I know his standards are low, but I didn’t think they were that low.’

‘You… ate… ‘em?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t touch them.’ he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘Brutus did.’

Thomas felt hot tears run down his face. Everything had been happening so fast that he had almost forgot about his parents. The stark reality quicky set in; they were dead, and his sister was next. What had he done? He left Olive alone to be eaten by these monsters. He should have just told her to run. Run and not look back.

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ The intruder chuckled, ‘Because livestock are a vampire’s victuals.’

‘Victor? Why’s that kid not dead yet?’ Brutus was back. He stood behind Victor, licking his fingers clean and smacking his lips like a child. Victor groaned, finally releasing Thomas’ face as he stood up to address his partner.

‘I’ve decided I’m keeping it.’

‘Another one? Why? You’ve got a bunch o’ pets at home. Jus’ let me-’

‘Where’s Olive? What ‘ave you done with my sister?’ Thomas knew the answer already, deep down. But he wasn’t ready to admit it yet. He wasn’t ready to accept the fact that it was his fault his sister was dead.

‘Your pet’s got some attitude, talkin’ to me like that.’ Brutus spat on the ground, earning a grimace from Victor.

‘He’ll learn some respect in due time. Now,’ Victor clapped his hands together, smiling down at Thomas, ‘I say it’s time we head home with my new pet. It’s been a long night.’

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chestnut-trotter · 3 months

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Short Gothic Vampire Story

Short story I wrote about a niave vampire being kept locked up for his own saftey by his parents rapunzel style. He of course does not know he is a vampire lol

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The young woman felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and her skin crawl. She cautiously checked behind her. It was dark. So dark she had to strain her eyes to see just a few feet ahead of her. Clouds shrouded the night sky. The full moon barely breaking through to illuminate the ground she walked on. It was quiet. The only sound heard was the gravel path that crunched beneath her feet.

Out the corner of her eye she thought she saw movement between the trees. She stopped walking. The sound of two feet stopping on the gravel came after.

She was being followed.

Afraid to turn around, she waited. There was an agonising silence. Her heart belting erratically against her ribcage felt unbearable. Maybe if she broke into a sprint, she would make it to the town ahead of her. There only had to be a about a mile left of her journey. But would they catch up to her first?

Before she could make a decision, she heard footsteps again. The sharp night air hitched in her throat, she wanted to run but found her limbs were as stiff as stone. The footsteps got louder and louder.

A figure slowly approached her. In the dark, she could only make out their silhouette.

‘Who’s there?’ she called out.

The figure was slow to respond, it was only when they stopped before her, did they speak.

‘You do not know my name, but we met many years ago.’

Now up close to the stranger, she could make out his features. He had a slim frame that towered over hers. Shoulders slumped as he held his hands up to his chest, fingers fidgeting. His droopy hazel eyes shone in the moonlight and gazed down at her. He had skin like porcelain, as though it were a stranger to the sun. His cheekbones were sharp and framed perfectly by locks of wavy ebony hair. He looked like an antique that was dusted and polished frequently; kept locked up in a dark room where no one was allowed to even breathe on him.

She found this mysterious stranger alluring.

~~~~

The thrill of sneaking out of the house still felt as exhilarating as it did the first time. No matter how many times Stirling would tip-toe down the dimly lit halls; or climb out that window in the west wing which only he knew had a broken lock; or weave between bushes in the garden as the cold air would nip at his face; Stirling would still feel his hands shake. Unlike the first time he snuck out, it was not the act of escaping that excited him, but the thought of seeing that girl again.

It had been six, agonizing years; yet Stirling could still remember that fateful night as though it were just yesterday. Thoughts of her haunting him day and night. A longing he had never known before weighed heavy on his heart – a longing to hear her melodic voice dance between his ears, to see her kind smile that melted his heart, and to feel her soft hand clasped around his own.

That night, he was in such a rush that he did not notice the girl until he tripped over feet. He was a fool not to. No amount of apologising would ever forgive such a thoughtless action – and yet she apologised to him before he could. The full moon her halo as she peered down at his crumpled form in the dirt. His cheeks were ablaze as he soaked in her beauty – he felt unworthy to be in her presence. Beneath her was where he belonged. He hesitated when she offered him her hand but has never regretted taking it.

He vowed to never forget her every detail. But as the years passed, the memory became less vivid. It was fading like the mist of his breath on the window as he would stare longingly into the night.

He must find her.

The first night Stirling snuck out all those years ago, he was young – a rebellious teenager that did not heed his parents’ warning. He only wished to see what the world outside was like out of pure spite. He was angry that his parents would imprison him in his own home. All in the name of “safety”. Having lived within the same walls all his life, surrounded by servants that would come and go as he grew older; all wearing the same dull uniform and a vacant expression; he was bored.

After about the hundredth argument with his parents on the matter, in the heat of the moment he made his escape – leaving behind him a breadcrumb trail and was quickly caught. As consequence, he was kept under lock and key in his room for a whole year. After which, Stirling planned his escape route carefully, and only left the house once a month to not arouse any suspicion.

It had worked successfully so far. His parents never saying a word to allude that they knew of his escapades. However, the young man was getting impatient. The gnawing at his heart getting more unbearable as each day passed that he could not see her. Stirling would sneak out twice a month, then eventually thrice. Each night he would wander in search of her just that little bit longer, only making the pang of disappointment sharper when she would not appear before him.

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‘You must have me mistaken for someone else.’ the woman’s voice was more mature but just as sweet as Stirling remembered. Although he did not expect her voice to hurt him so. Her words like a knife, plunged into his chest.

‘Do you not recognise me?’

The woman only shook her head.

Stirling felt his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. This was a new kind of pain. It was different from the melancholy he felt each night that he could not see her.

He waited years for this reunion. The whole time she cruelly plagued his thoughts and haunted his dreams. But she had forgotten who he was.

He meant nothing to her.

‘Do you not remember that night, six years ago, when I tripped, and you graciously helped me back to my feet.’ Stirling could hear his voice quivering.

‘I am terribly sorry. I do not remember such a thing. If I did indeed help you, it was quite the trivial act of kindness.’

‘But I have thought about that moment, every day for the past six years. Your trivial act of kindness – as you so call it – meant so much to me. I have been searching for you ever since.’ Stirling stepped forward and clasped the woman’s hands in his own shaking ones. She appeared shocked but he did not care. He was afraid to lose her. ‘Your beauty consumed me from the moment we met. Our language could never hope to contain you. Even the most elegant words would sound primal in comparison to your grandeur.’

Words Stirling had recited to himself each night as he lay in bed, tumbled out of his mouth with little remorse. All the emotions he had bottled up inside himself for years, now spilled out like the warm tears that trailed down his cheeks. He was overjoyed to see those same tears flow from the woman’s eyes.

Did she finally come to her senses and remember him? Or was his romantic speech enough to move her?

‘Your words flatter me, sir. But could you please let go, you’re crushing my hands.’

Stirling quickly released her hands from his grasp. As he did, he noticed how red her fingers were, her hands shaking violently. ‘Ah- Please forgive me. Let me kiss them better.’ He reached out for her hands again, but the woman drew back. As she did, she stepped on a fallen stick and it rolled beneath her, causing her to lose her balance. She fell to the ground, her hands catching her fall.

‘Ow…’ she muttered.

Stirling stepped forward to help her back to her feet. She eyed him cautiously but accepted the help.

Stirling opened his mouth to apologise once again, but something distracted him. A completely intoxicating scent clouded his thoughts. Sniffing the air, he followed it to the hand of hers he still held. He turned it around to find a gash in her palm.

‘I must have cut my hand when I fell. Please don’t worry about it, I can patch it up when I get home.’

Stirling was no longer thinking straight; he knew that as much. He could feel something taking over him, something he could not control. His senses felt heightened. He could hear her heartbeat race like a rabbit’s. He could feel the blood travelling through her veins under her flesh that that he held.

As if on instinct, Stirling held her hand up to his mouth and licked her wound clean. It tasted sweeter than any dessert he had ever eaten. He wanted more – no, he needed more.

His mouth trailed down to her wrist, he could feel her blood pulsing underneath his lips, tempting him. Unable to hold back anymore, he bit down into her flesh, piercing her skin easily. Warm blood gushed into his mouth and ran down his needy throat.

Stirling knew the woman was squirming under his grasp and was yelling at him stop, but he could not find it in himself to care.

‘You monster!’ that snapped Stirling back into reality.

He hastily released her. Fear shone in her eyes; her skin paler than it was before. How much had he drunk?

‘I-I don’t know what came over me.’

But the woman didn’t want to hear his excuses, she instead ran, leaving Stirling alone in the dark with his guilt.

#writing #writers on tumblr #fiction #short story #gothic fiction #vampire story #gothic vampire

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