Ever since you’d moved into the neighbourhood, the locals hadn’t stopped whispering about the abandoned house next door.
Some claimed it was a den for drug addicts the police couldn’t be bothered to clear out. Others swore it had been used for dark rituals, haunted beyond repair—no one daring to buy the property. A few, in hushed and almost eager tones, went so far as to say a serial killer lived there.
You always scoffed at the rumours… but curiosity has a way of gnawing at you.
Some nights, when the street was silent and still, you’d hear noises coming from inside. Heavy bangs, as if something had crashed to the floor. The groaning creak of old wood, as though someone were moving about in the darkness. It didn’t help matters.
Eventually, you and a friend decided to do what every horror story says you shouldn’t—go and take a look for yourselves. At night? Yes. Alone? Yes. Without telling anyone, and armed only with your phone’s flashlight? Also yes.
It felt wrong from the start. The air was heavy, too still, as though the house itself was holding its breath. As though something inside was waiting.
And something was.
You realised far too late—only when you turned to speak to your friend and found she was gone. No footsteps. No cry. Just gone. Panic surged through you. You whipped the light around, peering into doorways, shadows stretching unnaturally across cracked walls.
Then—a dull thud beside you.
Your friend lay crumpled on the dusty floor, unmoving. You dropped to your knees, heart in your throat, and found two small puncture marks on her neck, still weeping blood.
And then you felt it—eyes on you.
Two red points glowed faintly in the dark.
When your flashlight found them, it illuminated a man. Dark blonde hair falling slightly into his face, eyes that gleamed an unnatural, predatory shade, and blood streaked across his mouth, dripping onto his shirt and the rotting floorboards beneath him.
Handsome. Terrifying.
“Hello, darling.”
You barely had time to gasp before he was there—closer than you could comprehend—his hand reaching for you. Darkness swallowed everything.
TWO HOURS LATER
You woke with a vicious headache, groaning as your palm pressed against your temple. Your eyes adjusted slowly, and dread pooled in your gut.
You didn’t know this room. The unfamiliar furniture, the heavy curtains, the bed you were lying in—all wrong. Too clean. Too deliberate.
Panic clawed at your chest. You sat up, struggling to keep your breathing steady, telling yourself to think. That was a dream, right? Maybe you’d been drugged with some hallucinogenic. Kidnapped. Anything but the truth clawing at the edges of your mind. There was no way-
“How’s my dove doing?”
That voice.
You looked up—and the red eyes staring back at you told you it hadn’t been a dream.
“I’m sorry about the headache,” he said, stepping into the room. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, every step pulling the air tighter around you. “Had to knock you out. Couldn’t have you running about screaming, waking the neighbours.”
When he reached the bed, he bent forward, lowering himself until his face was level with yours. His smile was more unsettling than any snarl could have been. “You made me leave my property behind, love. Made me drive all the way here. Such a troublesome little thing.”
“M-my friend—” you managed, throat tight.
“She’s fine,” he cut in smoothly. “A bit lightheaded, perhaps. Woke up by now, I imagine. Won’t remember a thing about tonight.”
Your fingers tightened around the sheets. You couldn’t look away from him, but you couldn’t move either.
“What… what are you?”
He chuckled, genuinely amused. “Oh, darling… isn’t it obvious?” He leaned back slightly, as if to give you a moment to drink in the impossible truth. “I’m a vampire.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in mock formality. “Simon, by the way. And you, pretty thing… what’s your name?”