He’d been doing this for over four hundred years, but it was only in the last year that this ennui had overcome him. It just wasn’t the same any more.
He could pinpoint the day when it had started. That girl! She looked so promising, so warm, so alive when he spotted her walking across the square in her high heels and floral dress. Her lean limbs enticed him as she tottered off to some unknown destination. He followed her; he stalked her. He cornered her in a dark alley. He revealed himself and turned his glowing, hypnotic eyes on her.
But – it hadn’t worked. She didn’t do what all the other girls had done. She didn’t gaze at him, horrified and fascinated, as he spread his cape. She didn’t go all day dreamy and soft focus or thrust her creamy bosom towards him when he revealed his fangs. The hard, hot, throbbing pulse in her neck that he so craved, so needed…wasn’t there. She had glared at him.
“A bit old for a vampire, aren’t you?” she said, before shoving him aside and trotting up the steps to her apartment.
The Count lay in his coffin, knowing he needed to feed. It had been months. It had been too long.
There had been other disappointments since that first one. There had been other girls.
That one lovely little mite, all dressed in black and looking for trouble. He saw her at the coffee shop and was instantly smitten. She knew he was following her. As she turned her head to look at him he could sense her throbbing pulse at twenty paces. She led him into a dark alley. She gazed into his glowing, hypnotic eyes; she went all day dreamy, she thrust her bosom at him. Everything was going perfectly. But just as he was about to sink his fangs into that pale, pale neck, she slapped a hand to his forehead.
“Could you just sparkle a bit while you do that?” she said, with an expectant look.
“Um…do what?” he said, his concentration completely broken.
“You know!” she said. “Just sparkle for me and I’ll let you bite me. Come on!”
The Count turned away, puzzled and confused. She had no fear of him. She was asking him to sparkle. He couldn’t operate under these circumstances! The girl pouted and stomped her way out of the alley. So did he.
The Count got out of his coffin, his bones creaking. It had been far too long since he’d fed. He slumped into his plush armchair and, picking up a bottle of brandy from the side table, poured a lengthy swallow down his throat. He set it down and picked up the knife and the stake, and resumed his whittling from the night before.
It was the last girl that had finished him. Plump, with pouty lips and a sumptuous cleavage, she’d been promisingly terrified for a few delightful moments. Until he’d spread his cloak and bared his fangs.
“Oh, stay just like that a sec!” she’d said, as she pulled out her cell phone and started taking pictures of him. She’d made him pose in various ways, giggling all the time. He’d obliged her – he didn’t know why. He’d walked away, his shoulders slumped. It was over. It was all over.
The Count sighed, as he finished whittling the stake to the sharpest possible point. He pulled his armchair over to the windows, drew the drapes and opened the shutters. Soon, he would see the dawn for the first time since he’d been made a vampire, all those centuries ago. He placed the point of the sharpened stake over his heart and spent his last moments remembering all the young lovelies who had given him his lifetime.
As the rising sun peaked over the distant hillside, he plunged the stake into his heart. The blood of over five thousand women and girls spurted from the wound in a crimson arc. His mouth opened, but it was their screams, their dying terror that echoed off the filthy walls. The sun crept through the dusty window and ended their agony, as the Count’s body exploded into dust to dust to dust.
© Diane Dooley
Diane Dooley’s has seen her fiction published by Dog Oil Press, SNM Horror Magazine and is a regular contributor to The Galaxy Express. She has fiction forthcoming from Golden Visions Magazine and Carina Press.
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