Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Creatures & Monsters
- Published: 12/22/2016
By the seaside……..
“She was only the light housekeepers daughter but she knew how to………………”
He couldn’t, stop the irreverent words bouncing in his head.
A first look at the body showed that she died in her sleep in bed; however there seemed to be no sign of a struggle, only small drops of blood on her neck. She was whiter than a swan. The word Vampire sizzled across his brain. They could only be killed by a stake through the heart or cremation. Was there a local Vampire?
He threw the silly thought away and returned to the ‘proper’ suspects and reviewed the facts he knew to date.
The victim was called Gail Joseph, mother dead, lived with her father and together they ran a small bed and breakfast set up in the old lighthouse.
The current guest list was three people – Mr and Mrs Frederick Bolcous, touring Britain from Romania. Jim Naylor, a writer, who had been there for three months researching a novel revolving around local shipwrecks. The only other people she met at all seemed to be the postman and the milkman.
The next day he had the preliminary autopsy report that indeed confirmed that she died from a loss of blood. In fact 90%, a large volume – more than half a gallon. Where on earth could it have gone?
The only real ancient grudges, lurking secrets and pure hatred belonged to Dracula and the Vampires. Strange, he thought of the three or four black oak ribs sticking out of the sand on the beach below like rotting teeth. Jim Naylor told him it was a schooner that ran aground in a storm in1896 and only two survivors had made it to shore.
“Hello, Mr and Mrs Bolcous, can we just go through it once more – what part of Romania are you from?”
“The northern end, Transalvania.”
Frederick Bolcous replied as his wife had no English.
“Isn’t that the home of Dracula?”
“Well yes it is but no one there knows about it. It was your Englishman Bram Stoker that made it all up in Whitby. We hope to go there tomorrow.”
“Can you think of anything else about Gail Joseph that might be useful?”
“No we only met her at breakfast and she seemed a lovely girl.”
“Jim you’ve been her the longest, can you think of anything?”
“The only thing I thought was a bit unusual was that she didn’t have curtains in her bedroom. Sometimes when I came back from the beach in low light I could see her quite clearly and sometimes in a state of undress. I told her about it but she only laughed and said she loved the view too much. I think she felt safe because the window looked out to sea. The main entrance was at the front.”
“Could anyone else see in?”
“Only the milkman. The post came to the front door.”
The next morning he arrived early to watch and weigh up the milkman.
He summoned up every ounce of concentration and looked the man in the centre of both bloodshot eyes.
And he knew.
He looked at the milk float all the remaining bottles were too squeaky clean.
Beside the seaside......(Ossie Durrans)
By the seaside……..
“She was only the light housekeepers daughter but she knew how to………………”
He couldn’t, stop the irreverent words bouncing in his head.
A first look at the body showed that she died in her sleep in bed; however there seemed to be no sign of a struggle, only small drops of blood on her neck. She was whiter than a swan. The word Vampire sizzled across his brain. They could only be killed by a stake through the heart or cremation. Was there a local Vampire?
He threw the silly thought away and returned to the ‘proper’ suspects and reviewed the facts he knew to date.
The victim was called Gail Joseph, mother dead, lived with her father and together they ran a small bed and breakfast set up in the old lighthouse.
The current guest list was three people – Mr and Mrs Frederick Bolcous, touring Britain from Romania. Jim Naylor, a writer, who had been there for three months researching a novel revolving around local shipwrecks. The only other people she met at all seemed to be the postman and the milkman.
The next day he had the preliminary autopsy report that indeed confirmed that she died from a loss of blood. In fact 90%, a large volume – more than half a gallon. Where on earth could it have gone?
The only real ancient grudges, lurking secrets and pure hatred belonged to Dracula and the Vampires. Strange, he thought of the three or four black oak ribs sticking out of the sand on the beach below like rotting teeth. Jim Naylor told him it was a schooner that ran aground in a storm in1896 and only two survivors had made it to shore.
“Hello, Mr and Mrs Bolcous, can we just go through it once more – what part of Romania are you from?”
“The northern end, Transalvania.”
Frederick Bolcous replied as his wife had no English.
“Isn’t that the home of Dracula?”
“Well yes it is but no one there knows about it. It was your Englishman Bram Stoker that made it all up in Whitby. We hope to go there tomorrow.”
“Can you think of anything else about Gail Joseph that might be useful?”
“No we only met her at breakfast and she seemed a lovely girl.”
“Jim you’ve been her the longest, can you think of anything?”
“The only thing I thought was a bit unusual was that she didn’t have curtains in her bedroom. Sometimes when I came back from the beach in low light I could see her quite clearly and sometimes in a state of undress. I told her about it but she only laughed and said she loved the view too much. I think she felt safe because the window looked out to sea. The main entrance was at the front.”
“Could anyone else see in?”
“Only the milkman. The post came to the front door.”
The next morning he arrived early to watch and weigh up the milkman.
He summoned up every ounce of concentration and looked the man in the centre of both bloodshot eyes.
And he knew.
He looked at the milk float all the remaining bottles were too squeaky clean.
- Share this story on
- 6
COMMENTS (0)