A Vampire Story Part 1
If you’re reading this, my last will and testament, know that Doctor William J. Williams has ended my life. He has gone mad with power. I have no idea when or if this letter will be found or who will be reading my words, so I will start from the beginning.
My father grew up on a farm, and I did not; I grew up hearing stories of a beautiful life off the beaten path.
By the time I was a teenager, I had become infatuated with the idea of a simple life outside the city. I packed everything I had into one small satchel. My father gave me $50, my mother gave me portable soup, and I went on my way. I did not have a destination in mind, but I knew that God would guide me to the perfect place. My father had not been so secretive about the fact that he wanted me to settle in Ireland so he could go back and spend his waning years in his boyhood home. I didn’t have enough money to get tickets for an ocean liner, so I got a one-way train ticket to Upstate New York.
One morning I was in the dining car, there was a beautiful woman in front of me who offered to buy me a meal. She was stunning. Her name was Lucy. Lucy had beautiful blue eyes, the color of the ocean, hair the color of fresh barley. I was smitten. The minute I heard Lucy’s melodic Irish accent I knew she was the one. We spent our days trading stories and playing cards on the train. By the end of the trip, I proposed; I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I knew the townspeople would talk if two unmarried individuals were living together.
We married in a quiet ceremony. A couple of English travelers were our witnesses.
In New York, I purchased a couple of acres of land with a two-bedroom house already on it. I found it bizarre that someone would leave such fertile land and a fine home, but one man’s loss is another man’s gain, right?
The previous owners disappeared shortly after their baby’s birth. One day, the townspeople noticed their house was empty; the couple left everything but the animals behind. Lucy was the love of my life. I knew that I had to give her everything she deserved being that I wasn’t wealthy. I would take this blessing of fertile land and a furnished home without question.
Despite these many blessings bestowed upon us, the two of us were not church members. We attended services on the upcoming Sunday at a nearby church. We didn’t know what a big mistake that would be, and, if there is a heaven, I want my dear Lucy to know that I am so sorry! I feel that I am to blame for what happened to my dear innocent Lucy.
I found my beloved in a sky blue dress, enjoying a cup of tea; she had laid out my slacks and steamed a shirt for me to wear. She was so excited to thank God for our life and meet new friends.
The church was small and smelled of copper. But when we walked in, everyone was singing and smiling. We sat in a quiet spot in the back row. Within minutes, the man of the pulpit motioned for us to the front. We sat down in the first row. My beloved blushed as this man took her tiny hand in his massive paw. If only I knew of the danger. I would have slung Lucy over my shoulder and ran out of that God-forsaken place. The preacher asked us what we wanted most in the world. I said I wanted a prosperous farm, and Lucy said that she wanted to be a mother to a little girl. The woman sitting beside us smiled, petted Lucy’s tummy, and introduced herself. Her name was Virginia, and she was one of the church elders. She thought that Lucy would be a great mother. Further, the old woman predicted Lucy’s womb was already hosting life.
Lucy came down with a bout of sickness within the coming weeks, and after we took her to the doctor, we found that Lucy was indeed pregnant. We were overjoyed. I called my mother and told her to come up for the birth because my wife didn’t have family nearby. My mother was overjoyed with the thought of helping care for a baby. I was an only child; my mother was so excited to have a new daughter, Lucy. I’m so grateful my mother died before she had the chance to be exposed to this atrocity.
Pregnancy can be hard on the body, and the doctor warned that she was at a high risk of losing the baby with Lucy’s small frame. Because of this, we had decided not to share the news with the townspeople until Lucy began to show.
Despite our best efforts to hide the pregnancy, folks gathered around with blankets, meat, and various baby things the next Sunday. I was a little taken aback both by the kindness and the fact that I’d never heard of a baby shower occurring before the birth. Lucy shrugged her shoulders. We figured small-town folks probably did things differently.
Over the next few weeks, we were showered with gifts, and one constant was Virginia. She would gift Lucy baskets full of tea, which I was not allowed to drink. One morning I saw Lucy fixing herself tea. Inside, the kettle was bright red. And the tea smelled awful but Lucy seemed to enjoy it. There were so few things she could keep down; she only ate red meat and drank that tea. Eventually, it became challenging for Lucy to get around. I would make trips to Virginia’s cabin to pick up tea. One day, I asked Virginia for the recipe. Virginia gave me a look that would make Satan cower.
I tried to explain to Virginia that I didn’t want to walk miles in the chilly autumn. She slammed the door in my face.
I told myself that it must have been a secret family recipe. Despite Lucy’s meager diet, the doctor reassured me that everything was progressing. I returned day after day to get jars of dried tea.
I got the news that my mother and father both passed away of influenza shortly before the birth. My love simply put her hand on my shoulder and promised me that we would name her Hattie if the baby was a girl. If it was a boy, we would call him Edwin; we were to carry on my parents’ memory. That was the moment that it became real I was going to be a father.
At church that Sunday, I was moved to share my excitement with everyone.
The preacher shook my hand and told me that my baby was a blessing for everyone. Our baby girl would be the first baby in our settlement. My little girl would change our settlement forever. This oddly specific statement should have been a warning.
That very night, I held Lucy’s hand as we made our way to the office of doctor William A. Williams. I believe that name was an alias.
As most men do, I sat in a chair outside of the birthing room. I sat biting my nails down to nothing; it was so hard listening to my beloved cry out for me to help her. But as a man, I couldn’t be in the room.
When I heard crying, I jumped out of my seat, excited to hold my wife and child.
My wife was holding a blood-soaked bundle tight to her chest. And she was crying. My heart was beating out of my chest. Is Lucy okay! Why is the baby covered in blood, I wondered. I gently pulled the blanket away from the baby. This monster had horns and claws and was gnawing at my wife’s bare breasts. I’ll never forget the evil laugh. My wife just stared at the creature as it ripped bloody chunks of meat from her once perfect breasts. The one moment I looked forward to was the first time my child would look at me. But that thing looked at me, and I will always remember the whites of its eyes—yellow, and the cornea was red.
I attempted to grab my wife, but I knew she was gone; her skin was gray, and her beautiful blue eyes were rolling to the back of her head. The creature was still licking the blood from her lifeless corpse. At that moment, I was trying to figure out if my baby was eaten by that thing or if that thing was my baby and someone had cursed her.
Between fits of maniacal laughter and gasping for air, the doctor explained; the previous owners of our home fell pregnant. The baby was a boy. The doctor has been promised great wealth if you can bring the preacher, innocent souls. At first, the doctor had considered sacrificing babies born under the care of Dr. Williams. But then Virginia told of a potion that she knew could create a demon. The forsaken boy baby was being raised by Virginia. He was now going to take our little girl and eventually populate the world with monsters who would do his bidding. I saw my child in this thing.
I was praying for a way we could reverse the spell. Even though this creature was hideous, I knew that my child was somewhere inside this vessel, begging for help. I have decided to take the baby to New Orleans and find a voodoo practitioner who can undo the spell placed upon my child. I have no doubt the doctor is coming to kill me and to finish what he started. Hattie Lucia. And I have a long journey ahead of us. Assuming that I don’t get eaten, and the doctor cannot locate us on our journey. I will be burning this letter. If someone comes across this letter, I have either been eaten or killed by the doctor and fed to my own child.