Become a Fan
The Vampire and The Stableboy
By Huda Orfali
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Rated "R" by the Author.
Evil should stop
The police station was fairly quiet that time of night. Officer Flanagan was just wrapping up his last report. An English lord was murdered the night before; his mansion was burnt to the ground to cover up that heinous crime.
The police had no suspect yet and they had made no arrests. They questioned the town people; they were talking about evil spirits that haunt that old mansion.
“Lord Cunningham was an evil man,” they all agreed on that but they gave no details. Some of them called him a vampire. Flanagan was trying to figure out why the town people hated him that much but no one was willing to talk.
He sipped the coffee slowly and stretched his aching body.
“There is something mysterious about this case,” thought Flanagan. “The house was full of servants and yet no one saw anything! Are they trying to protect someone? But who?”
A tall young man dressed in a black cloak and wearing a black hat that hid most of his face walked slowly through the door. He was carrying a large wooden box.
“How can I help you, sir?” asked Flanagan.
The young man removed the hat slowly and put it under his arm. His face was extremely handsome yet pale as death.
“I would like to turn myself in,” said the dark-haired young man and looked up; he had piercing blue eyes and blood-red lips.
“What did you do, lad?” asked Flanagan.
“I killed scores of people.”
“You killed people!”
“In the last three hundred years, I killed scores of people.”
Flanagan was stunned; this lad was barely sixteen years old.
“Three hundred years!”
“Listen, son. I had a long day,” he said irritated. “Why don’t you go home?”
“This is my home.”
He placed the wooden box in front of Flanagan; it was shaped like a coffin.
“Open the box,” said Flanagan uneasily.
The young man opened the box slowly; there was a large wooden stake inside and a bloodstained oriental dagger.
“What’s your story, lad?”
“I’m a Vampire.”
“Really! I’m a Zombie myself,” said Flanagan jokingly.
The young man was infuriated by this sly remark.
“You do not believe me?”
“You probably watch too many horror movies, lad. I would like to call your parents.”
“Are you listening to me?” he roared. “I’m a Vampire.”
The walls of the old police station echoed the frightening roar; some pieces of wood cracked and fell out. The young man grinned and showed his long white teeth. His eyes turned fiery red. Officer Flanagan was overcome with horror.
The Vampire grabbed Flanagan by the neck; his cold sharp fingers excoriated his skin. A thin stream of blood flowed down Flanagan’s neck. Flanagan stood petrified, his strength faded away. Horror crept into his heart and paralyzed his limbs.
The Vampire uttered a muffled scream and released Flanagan. Flanagan fell to his knees unbelieving that he had survived. Despite the horror, Flanagan felt extreme pleasure as the Vampire held him in his powerful grip. He had never experienced such a pleasurable sensation before.
“Do you believe me now?” he ranted.
“Yes,” mumbled Flanagan wishing that he would do it again. “I believe you.”
“Now lock me up in the dungeon before the sun comes up. I would like to rest in my coffin tonight. I have no desire to hunt for human blood.”
Flanagan led the way to one of the less frequently used cells carrying the wooden box. The Vampire trailed behind him languidly. Flanagan could not hear footsteps but he smelled his breath; it had the smell of death. Rats scattered in every direction, fleeing the imminent danger.
Flanagan turned the key and the door gave a squeaking sound. The first rays of sunlight were coming through a half-opened window high in the wall. The Vampire uttered a horrible shriek and covered his eyes.
“Please, keep it dark,” rasped the Vampire with anguish in his voice. “My eyes are burning.”
“All right,” said Flanagan and closed the shutters. “Is there anything else I could do?”
“I’m losing my strength. Please help me lie in my coffin,” he gasped.
Flanagan was afraid to touch him.
“Do not fear me, Flanagan. I will not harm you,” he reassured Flanagan. “I have vowed not to taste human blood evermore.”
Flanagan lifted the lid off the coffin; the Vampire lay there and closed his eyes. He looked so peaceful in his sleep. Flanagan’s fears subsided. He felt drawn to this beautiful creature as if by magic. He touched his sallow cheeks; the Vampire did not stir. Flanagan bent over and kissed his reddish lips. He stripped his cloak, ran his hand over the vampire’s cold body and felt his heart. Flanagan was lured into an ecstatic trance; he felt his body burn with desire. Consumed by passion, he cuddled close to the exquisite body and kissed every inch rubbing his hands against the lustrous skin and touching his genitals. It was impossible to arouse the sleeping Vampire. Flanagan strength flowed away and he felt so thirsty that he could drink blood.
“Where are you, Flanagan?” shouted the Captain. Flanagan came back to his senses. He closed the lid and whispered, “Good night.”
Flanagan did not report this incident to his superior officer. He kept the cell locked and kept the key in his own pocket until nighttime.
Darkness fell and the Vampire’s body began to move inside the coffin. His body jerked and tugged relentlessly until it pushed the lid away; Flanagan was sitting before him in a trance. The Vampire clutched his heart moaning in pain.
“Are you all right?” asked Flanagan.
“My heart aches and I feel very weak.”
“What happened to you?”
“I’m starving. I have not fed for three nights.”
“I told you. I have vowed not to taste human blood evermore.”
“Then how will you survive?”
“You want to die?”
He smiled shyly, “I’m already dead.”
Flanagan ran his fingers on the Vampire’s lips; they were parched and cold. Flanagan was overcome by desire; he longed to touch that exquisite body again. He felt hypnotized and drew nearer until their bodies touched.
“Drink,” he said and offered his neck.
The Vampire jumped to his feet in terror. “Never,” he screamed.
He was very weak from hunger and exhaustion; he fell to his knees and crawled back into his coffin.
“Drink,” said Flanagan and touched him again. He recoiled in disgust and pushed Flanagan away. He looked away and sighed deeply.
“Do you know how I became a Vampire?”
“I have a feeling that you’re here to tell me.”
The Vampire lay back in his coffin and told his story.
“Three hundred years ago, my family was living on a small farm in Ireland. I had two older brothers and one sister. I was the youngest. My parents worked hard but it was a very difficult time. Famine spread throughout the land and the potato crop was bad. Sometimes, we didn’t have anything to eat. When time came to pay the rent, we didn’t have any money. We couldn’t save six pounds and my sister’s children were starving. We tried to borrow some money but the farmers were all very poor. Lord Darkenham did not show mercy. He evicted farmers and burnt their houses.
When our rent was due, my father sent me to Darkenham’s castle. It was very dark and terribly cold. Lord Darkenham was not usually seen at daytime. I was frightened and very cold. I stood before the front gate of the castle; an old man opened the iron-barred door and showed me in. He prayed for me, blessed me, took a cross from around his neck, and put it around mine. I wasn’t sure I needed all that blessings but he seemed so solemn that I couldn’t refuse.
I walked through a long dark corridor into a big hall. The lights were dim. Lord Darkenham was sitting by the fireplace drinking what appeared to me as red wine.
I greeted his lordship and came closer to the fire. It was very warm inside that hall so I removed my muffler. Darkenham sprang to his feet and hovered around me frantically, sniffing me and touching my skin with his cold fingers. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I was never as frightened in my life as I was that night. He looked like an animal ready to kill. However, when he saw the cross, he backed away and sat again by the fire.
“What do you want, lad?” he asked hoarsely.
“I came here to ask for a reprieve. Please, do not evict us from the land. We will pay the rent as soon as possible.”
“I have a proposition,” he said. “Why don’t you come and work for me for one year and I will exempt your family from all their debts?”
“You lordship, my family owes you six pounds!”
“If you work for me for one year, I will exempt your family and pay you another six pounds.”
I didn’t want to work for an Englishman but the offer was tempting. I thought about my sister’s children and my old father. I thought about what would happen to my family if I refused.
“Did you say for a year?”
“Just one year.”
“What should I do?”
“You will work as a stableboy.”
“All right,” I said. “I will work for you.”
His face lit up and he smiled wryly; he had long sharp teeth. I was still shivering so he threw more wood into the fire.
“Come closer, lad,” he said. “Warm yourself by the fire.”
He beckoned me and I felt as if I were in a trance. I moved toward the fireplace and curled up by the fire. He came from behind me; I didn’t hear his footsteps. He snatched the cross and threw it into the fire, grabbed me by the neck and his teeth sank into my flesh. My strength flowed away and my stomach began to roil. He placed his cold hand upon my stomach; my body grew numb. I felt as if my body was floating in the air as he sucked my blood. His hands touched my most intimate places; I gritted my teeth and craved for more.
His teeth sank lower into my neck. Blood trickled down my chest in a thin stream; he licked it with his fiery tongue. He followed the trail of blood down to my navel and his teeth pierced through. I was moaning, gasping and I felt an impending doom. The pleasure had turned into agony. I succumbed to my ill fate and waited for him to kill me.
He fed enough and laid me on the floor by the fire as my whole body convulsed with pain. He gave me the cup from which he was drinking. I loathed its taste but the hot drink soothed my stomach so I drank more. I had a burning sensation building up in the pit of my stomach, a craving for something I didn’t know what it was. Nevertheless, the whole thing sickened me as I fought his strong hands that fondled my genitals. I fought hard but he was inside me, thrusting in and out. He rolled me over and his teeth sank once more in my neck, grinding and crushing the life out of me.
I lay there unable to catch my breath for what seemed an eternity. I saw his face in the firelight; blood was dripping from the corners of his mouth and his lips were swollen.
I crept toward the door but he barred it, grabbed me again and threw me by the fire. He continued licking my blood until the sun began to rise. Darkenham left six pounds on the table and said,
“Come again tomorrow night,” he guffawed and walked out.
My neck ached and my stomach felt on fire. I stood up leaning on the wall and put my clothes on. I wanted to run out but my legs felt so weak that I could barely stand. I dragged myself to the front gate. The old man was still standing there. He looked at me with sadness in his eyes.
“God have mercy on your soul,” he said and dressed my bleeding wounds.
Darkenham’s carriage was waiting outside and the old man drove me home. I was so weak that I went straight to bed. My father came to ask me how did it go and I begged him to let me sleep.
I woke up the next day tired, feverish and the sunlight bothered my eyes. When my mother saw how pale I was, she rushed in with her ration but the food nauseated me even more. I slept most of the day and woke up at night startled by hellish nightmares. My father came to my room and said,
“Son, get dressed. Lord Darkenham’s carriage is waiting for you.”
I screamed and begged him not to send me there again. His face was stern and I heard the clatter of gold in his pocket. Darkenham had paid my father six gold pounds.
When I arrived at the castle, I saw the old man sitting slumped forward on a bench; his neck half eaten by the sharp teeth of a vampire. Darkenham was satisfied that night and his stomach was distended from all the blood he had drunk.
Darkenham kept his word and released me when the year was over. I rushed home with all the strength I had left in me. My father barred the door in my face and asked me to return to the castle. He had sold me to the Devil for good.
The metamorphosis took three years. Every night, Darkenham drank my blood and forced me to drink the fresh blood of a newly slaughtered lamb to keep me alive. I grew weaker everyday until my blood had no value to him; it became the blood of a vampire. Darkenham said it was time for me to taste human blood.
He let me out of the castle for the first time in three years. I rushed to the village to see my family. My body was very weak from blood loss but I felt a strange rush of energy in my veins as I ran down the hill to our old farm.
I didn’t see our old shack; instead there was a newly built house with a barn. I didn’t want to scare my parents so I stood close to the window and peeped into the room. My father was sitting by the fire; a beautiful young woman was lying next to him with her head on his lap. He was drinking wine and stroking the young woman’s golden hair. I was shocked; I didn’t see my mother.
My heart was thumping with such force that I couldn’t breathe. I looked around me and saw the tombstone. She died two years ago from grief.
I felt an excruciating throb of pain in my chest as if I was hit by a lightning bolt straight to my heart. My body was gripped by a jerking movement and my teeth clattered and filled my mouth with blood. I crawled closer to the tomb. The cross petrified me and I couldn’t touch it. My breathing became very painful. I clutched my throat so hard that I tore it open with my own nails. The metamorphosis was now complete; I died and changed into a vampire.
Driven by the pangs of hunger, I smashed the glass and bolted inside the house. I fixed my teeth in the woman’s neck and drank her fresh blood. My father tried to push me away and whipped my back with a hot iron rod. I let go of the woman and grabbed him by the neck. He fell at my feet imploring me to let him live. I looked straight into his eyes; the sight of him in agony broke my heart as I remembered he was my father. My anger began to subside. I shoved him to the ground and walked away. His clothes caught fire and in a few seconds he was all aflame.
The woman ran to the other side of the house but the fire engulfed her as well. I darted out of the window and ran across the field back to the hill. I saw the fire from a distance consuming the house, the barn and the whole farm was reduced to cinders. I rushed back to the castle, blood dripping from my mouth. I’m not sure if it was the woman’s blood or my own.
Darkenham stood there watching the fire from his bedroom window. His mouth was red and his stomach was swollen with blood; he had fed well that night. A small child lay lifeless by the fireplace; his neck half eaten by the sharp teeth.
Darkenham stared at me and said laughing, “Did you enjoy your first kill?”
He raised his cup to his bloody mouth, “Cheers,” he said. “Now you have become a Vampire. Your soul is mine for keeps.”
I grabbed an oriental dagger and thrust it straight into his heart. His mouth opened and his body shook violently as I pushed the dagger further into his heart. I grabbed a piece of burning wood from the fireplace and torched his clothes. He scuttled around the room and the fire was spreading further. I stood there watching as his body was consumed by the flames and turned into dust.
I stood at the top of the hill watching the castle, the farm and the village blazing with fire. The pain ceased for a while and I was ecstatic that evil was destroyed. The sun was beginning to rise and my eyes were burning. I hurried to find shelter; my mother’s tomb was open and she welcomed me with open arms.”
The Vampire cringed inside his coffin and closed his eyes. He looked so pale and thin in the candlelight. His beauty was fading away and he was gasping.
“I’m dying,” he rattled and pulled the lid over his face. Flanagan extinguished the candle and locked the door behind him.
The next night, Flanagan waited for the Vampire to wake up again. He tried to push the lid but he was very weak. Flanagan heard him moaning inside the coffin. When Flanagan opened the lid he was dismayed; the beautiful boy he had seen the night before was disfigured by bruises and burns all over his body.
The Vampire held the stake in his trembling hand.
“Evil should stop here,” he said. “Save my soul, Flanagan. Deliver me from this intolerable pain.”
Flanagan offered his neck and said, “Drink and you shall be saved.”
The Vampire held Flanagan’s hand and said, “You must finish the evil that started here by the English. Drive that stake through my heart and deliver me from my suffering.”
“I can’t do that. I cannot kill you.”
“Thrust hard and my agony will stop.”
“Drink my blood and you shall revive. I beg you drink.”
The Vampire, driven by desperation and intolerable pains, reached for Flanagan’s neck… Flanagan woke up startled.
A black-haired young man walked through the door. His clothes were singed and there was blood around the corners of his mouth. Flanagan jumped to his feet.
“I would like to turn myself in,” he said gasping. He stood slumped forward grabbing his stomach.
“What did you do, lad?”
“I killed Lord Cunningham and torched his mansion,” he gasped.
Flanagan was stunned. The young man fell to his knees wincing in pain.
“Why did you kill him, lad? Why did you kill Cunningham?”
He looked at Flanagan with desperation; his eyes were flaring with blue fire.
“Evil should stop, Officer, evil should stop.”
He wiped the blood off his mouth with his sleeve. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and took it off; Flanagan gaped when he saw the bites, bruises and whipping marks all over his trembling body.
“My God,” screamed Flanagan. “He did this to you!”
He gave a wry smile and said,
“I was his Stableboy.”
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|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|You had me hooked all the way!!
|Reviewed by michelle noble
|bravo a masterpeice of vampire fiction if i do say so myself. i am one who loves to read anything about vampires and i havent visited this sight in i dont know how long but when i saw the title of your story i had to read it. loved it as good as the many writers who have got hole novels and stuff of vampire fiction iv read. i loved loved loved it. keep it up your a pro at this. brovo|
|Reviewed by Michael Wells
|The Stableboy teems with cruelty, poverty, sexual abuse and parental neglect, which are all detached from the elements of time and place. The reader is encouraged to make a journey into the past that collaborates with the present and the future in producing a calamitous picture of humanity that sometimes stoops to the rank of animals. Vampires are by no means imaginary; they live among us, tarnish our souls and smear with black ink our white jasmines. This particular story leaves the reader feeling that anybody who assassinates an innocent bud in an innocent heart is a vampire.
Thanks for sharing this eye-opener
God bless - Mich
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|I'm not a big fan of horror but you have done a fine job of this story, Huda. I was "hooked" from start to finish. Thank you for sharing it. Love and peace to you,