The night danced with the warm breeze of a promised early summer, rustling could be heard with the finest tuned ear within the trees. Those finely tuned ears belonged to none other than a creature not of this world, that shouldn’t be of this world, however the being was fatefully cursed to live among us. We all have our own version of such a creature, a collection of different names, descriptions, & stories but collectively we know it as one thing: A blood sucking terror upon the lives of innocent humans. A vampyre.
This vampire in particular was the greedy, egotistical, murderous Omor Dracula, or better known infamously to the entire world as Count Dracula. We all know the stories written about him & we know his blood thirsty history as a warlord to Vlad Tepes, but have we ever really heard the stories about his victims? Only a chosen few. But what about the ones that got away only to meet their doom later down the line?
Count Dracula waited in the woodlands, hearing hundreds of tiny little heart beats thumping in the night, from owls to sleeping dormice. Everything had a pulse, a blood source but not everything was a part of notability. That was what the Count truly craved most. Money. Land. Knowledge. Power. A title. He’d ripped his way through most of the European countries, bringing about slaughters but never finding quite the right flavour amongst the people. Most of them had their fortunes handed down to them which only resulted in an air-headed lack of knowledge. He’d leave the castles he’d stolen abandoned, fleeing when his actual being was discovered amongst too many survivors civilians.
He watched up at the castle window, silhouettes of men & women conversing & the odd twirl of dancers. Of course, the Count could just march his way into the ballroom, announce himself as a mysterious member of high society that the host’s forgot to write an invitation too. He certainly could. However the Count was one, who despite every mothers scorn, liked to play with his food. He liked to place his feet firmly under the table & work his way through the staff & family before ceasing it all entirely for himself. How else would he be able to take everything they physically & economically had before taking their worthless little lives? By being nice? That’s not how the world works, not to mention that takes too long. After all, one should know more about how & where their food is grown in order to keep a healthy diet. You wouldn’t want your food tampered with, it should be no different with a cursed creature. Just because you’re assigned immortality, doesn’t mean you should flaunt around & take lesser than. By all means, take more, take the finer things, take more if you have to!
In the meantime, as he watched & waited, Count Dracula resided himself on a small farmland not too far from the great mansion before him, but not too close to rouse any suspicion. A short stalk through the woodland brought him to the edge of the ground of his soon to be home. The hut he resided in, held a farming family, captive, tied together in a complex knot, almost like his own personal collection of salted meats. They’d tried to escape previously, which only insulted him to no end. He didn’t seem to be that bad of a host, he’d fed them when he remembered & stoked a fire. Though, he taught them not to escape by punishing & taking the life of their smallest child. A common act in Vladivostok. It certainly made the family stay put from then on & there was no complaints from then on. Dracula took a final few glances about the house, observing it as though it was an architects blue prints, searching for small crevices he could steal away out of or in should his plans go awry, before retreating himself back to the hut, resting until it was time to execute his plan.
