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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Fantasy stories / Fairy Tales
- Subject: Comedy / Humor
- Published: 12/12/2014
Jeremiah the Upper Class VampireBorn 1980, M, from Exeter, United Kingdom
There have been many legends about vampires over the centuries, from Dracula to the modern vampire we know today. Here recorded for the reader's curiosity is a little known tale of Jeremiah the Upper Class Vampire. Our tale begins in the year of our Lord, 1897, in a small village in the county of Shropshire. This was a thriving community, its main income came from the local carpenter's stakes used to vanquish neighbouring threats caused by the area's rampant vampirism. Gradually, the carpenter's popularity grew and he would supply famous vampire hunters with the tools they needed to ply their trade.
One night a hooded figure approached the carpenter's shop and enquired whether he could buy a white ash stake. The carpenter said he did not have such an item but he would make it for him and it would be ready for collection the following night. Whilst this transaction was taking place, the carpenter's son, who should have been in bed at this late hour, sat on the staircase and watched in quiet awe. The hooded figure departed and the carpenter who's name was Jim Jenson began work on the stake when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the little boy sitting on the stairs.
He spoke in his gruff, authoritative voice “go to bed, what are you doing up?”
“Father, I couldn't sleep” the boy protested.
“Alright, I will come up and tuck you in” the man replied.
Once upstairs, the man gently berated the boy for being up that late and being interested in his work which he had always tried to keep separate from his home life. However, it was getting harder and harder these days, since his wife had been bitten by the very “thing” that the carpenter was helping to kill. Although this happened when he was young, Jerry, the boy, had been a very curious child and kept asking questions as to where his mother was. Eventually, the carpenter had sat him down and told him the truth. He couldn't lie anymore, especially not to his son. Now, as a ten year old, Jerry had an unhealthy obsession with the paranormal. His father tried to discourage his growing obsession but the more his father told him not to do it, the more Jerry grew curious. So, on this night, in Jerry's room he tried in vain once again to discourage him.
As he grew, Jerry became more and more interested in vampirism. Every book he borrowed from the library had titles such as: “How to Vanquish the Undead”, “Vampirism for Dummies” and “The Osbourne Book of Vampires”.
There were only three rules in the village: to go home when the sun went down, not to speak to strangers and, most importantly of all, to stay away from the Forest which surrounded the village. But Jerry, with a healthy curiosity, now aged fourteen, consistently thwarted these rules, often being seen in the village's many taverns after dark, drinking and gambling. Jenson had told him many times that it was very dangerous for him to conduct his life like this, however, the son bravely ignored his father, and so it was on one of these nights that Jerry decided to venture in to the forest, having consumed a large amount of alcohol and missing his mother terribly. He set foot in the forest, and strangely the trees drew him onwards. It was eerily foreboding, not even an owl hooted. Suddenly he stopped in a clearing on hearing the sound of horses galloping. The sound got closer and closer until, out of a clump of trees, at the far end of the forest, emerged a carriage. Swerving wildly, it appeared to have no driver, but was dragged along by four black horses who's manes appeared to shimmer in the moonlight. Jerry's eyes widened as he stepped forward, almost as if he were hypnotised in to the horses' path. The horses reared up, stopping the coach dead in its tracks. One blacked out window of the carriage rolled down and sat inside was the strangest figure that Jerry had ever seen. The figure barked at the horses:
“Why have you stopped? I've been travelling all night, I'm tired and weary and you dare to defy me and stop my carriage, so close to the local blood den?”
Blood dens. Jerry had read about these places, places where vampires went to replenish their blood supply. There were also pictures of vampires putting blood directly in to their veins. The figure continued speaking.
“I have travelled all the way from Transylvania, my local blood den ran out and I am famished.”
Seeing the figure of Jerry on the side of the track, Dracula advanced, sinking his fangs into Jerry's neck, as he could not resist, he wanted a meal. Jerry held out his arms uselessly to protect himself. The world began to spin. Jerry felt off balance and nauseous, his neck throbbed.
“What have you done to me? he cried out to the hooded figure who looked at him now with a wicked smile.
“Thank you boy” smirked Dracula. “My hunger is now satisfied. Now you will die slowly for daring to stop my carriage.” Jerry tried to advance on the figure to knock him off balance, but his legs would not move. They gave way and he crumpled to the ground. The last thing he saw was his father's face admonishing him for his obsession with vampires. He then slipped in to unconsciousness.
Several hours later Jerry awoke to find himself in a plush bed. He looked around, wondering how he had got there. His head was pounding, but apart from this, he felt great. The events of hours earlier gradually came back to him and he rushed to the only mirror in the room to look at himself. However, when he looked in the mirror, there was no reflection.
“I'm invisible!” he thought to himself. “I can do anything!”
He rushed to the shuttered windows on the opposite side of the room, only to find that the sunlight hurt his eyes and seared his skin. Jerry looked about the room he now found himself in. It was a large room dominated by a double bed which he had awoken in. At one end of the room was a mirror which he had regarded himself in moments earlier. Antique furniture was dotted around the room, faded and dusty. Jerry had to find his father, who would be worrying about him. He must have been away for ages. Jerry tried the windows again but the same thing happened until the Sun went down. At night he found he could move around with ease, so later that night he retraced his footsteps to find his father. Presumably he had been taken to the nearby blood den that had a spare room upstairs in which he now found himself. He left and went to find his father. When he went back to his village, everybody seemed to be scared of him, running in to their houses and bolting the doors.
“Why?” Jerry wondered to himself.
He came across his father who had just come back in to town at the head of a four man search party. When he saw Jerry, he gasped and exclaimed:
“What's happened to you Jerry!? You look awful!”
Jerry was confused. For some inexplicable reason he corrected his father with the words:
“Call me Jeremiah. Duke Jeremiah.”
Jeremiah looked down at his left hand and saw a huge, gleaming, gold signet ring on his middle finger engraved with a coat of arms. The coat of arms of a Duke. When Jeremiah spoke to his father to try and reassure him, his voice sounded different somehow. He had the cultured accent of an English gentleman.
“Do not worry Papa. I just had a little altercation with Count Dracula but now I feel superb father.”
This was a different accent to what he had had before. Being the son of a carpenter, he had had quite a coarse, countrified twang to his voice, the complete opposite to this new accent.
“What are you?” his father exclaimed “and what have you done with my son?”
Jeremiah put out a well-manicured hand for his father to shake.
“I am aristocracy now. Spiffing to see you old chap. You're one of the working classes, yes?”
His father looked shocked and stuttered out his response.
“N-n-nice to see you again son.”
“Charmed” continued Jeremiah. “Who are all these torch bearing boars? Are they your servants?”
“No! We were l-l-looking for you!” responded Jenson. “But you've changed. You're somehow cultured.”
“I do not mean to alarm you father. I just wanted to see you and tell you I was alright.”
“Oh I see. And are you?”
“Perfectly! Would you allow me to come indoors? The night is cold.”
“Oh, of course” said Jim. “It's good to have you back. There's some soup on the stove.”
So all that evening carpenter and vampire sat opposite each other eating bowls of vegetable soup.
In the morning, Jeremiah slept in late and his father went to work making stakes for vampire hunters far and wide. For a few months Jeremiah's father lived peacefully in the sleepy little village until one day, there was an odd occasion between the carpenter and one of the villagers. Apparently he had seen Jeremiah from the open window of his cottage late one night drinking animal blood and so accused Jim for being a hypocrite by harbouring a vampire, as they were a dark blot on the clean canvas of civilisation. The villager gave Jim twenty-four hours to banish Jeremiah from the village, despite being his son, or he would take matters in to his own hands. However, Jim did not feel comfortable banishing his only child to a lonely nomadic existence, because he was a victim after all and had just had the unfortunate encounter and should not be blamed for his mistake.
Weeks went by. Jim successfully hid Jeremiah, during which time Jeremiah's memory fully returned and he told his father all about the unfortunate encounter with Count Dracula. His father was reluctant to believe it at first, but somewhere deep in his heart something was telling him that it was true and so when the mob arrived, complete with flaming torches to banish Jeremiah for good, his father managed to keep him hidden by telling the mob that Jeremiah was no longer there. This continued to work until, one night, Jim had to work late in the workshop, diligently carving a weapon for an out of town vampire hunter. The needs of this vampire hunter were very precise and so he had to take several trips away from his workshop in order to check with the client that the weight and the size of the weapon was adequate. It was during one of his trips that Jeremiah saw the angry mob coming back. Evidently they had not quite believed Jim's elaborate ruse. Jeremiah knew he must leave town so hastily he scribbled a note for his father and left and silently slipped out the back.
Now he was alone in the forest, watching the mob search the house and the workshop whilst angrily calling out his name and so he roamed for four lonely years, feeding off woodland creatures and never killing a human, because that was below him. He would stalk his father at night to check that his father was alright, but would never make his presence known. His father started frequenting the local inns more often, drinking away his sorrows, caused by the apparent loss of his only son, in to large goblets of dark purple liquid. Jeremiah was intrigued so one night, after his father left, he sneaked in and ordered a goblet of what his father had been drinking. The man behind the old wooden bar gave him a goblet of the liquid and Jeremiah took his first sip. It was incredible. The chocolate, fruit aromas of the full bodied smoothness sparked a desire for more of this strange yet delicious liquid. Jeremiah wondered whether this liquid could replace his craving for animal blood. Over time he learnt that indeed he could replace his filthy habit of drinking blood with this one. As a vampire, he was immune to the effects of the alcohol. However, he would still need a drop of blood mixed with it to sustain him. He continued roaming and drinking Rioja for many years until he found himself a clearing in the woods in which to build a house. Being that Jeremiah was a Duke and not an ordinary vampire, this was not going to be any ordinary house. It was built of white marble and he had commissioned thousands upon thousands of workers to construct this house. It had columns and the interior was bathed in silk and satin cloth, the finest that money could buy. Jeremiah quickly realised that in order to be accepted in to vampire society, he needed to get himself an honest job and stop lazing in his coffin all day drinking wine. But what could a vampire do? He could only come out at night. And then the idea struck him. He would open a nightclub for all creatures shunned by human society, run on charitable donations. The club was to be called:
He would of course do all the Djing himself, seeing as D.J was his initials. The club was a booming success and undead creatures came from miles around because they knew it was a place of sanctuary away from the stigmatization of human society. He erected big iron gates with his initials on them and a big neon flashing sign which said “Undead Beatz. All creatures welcome.” And so there came werewolves, vampires, banshees, zombies, ghouls and all kinds of other creatures who otherwise would have been spending their nights alone. Jeremiah built a large apartment for himself above the club where he spent his days and by night he would tear up the dance floor with his great party mixes. The club made him rich beyond his wildest dreams, but while the club was successful, something was troubling Jeremiah. What if Dracula ever came back to take care of unfinished business? With the fame of the club it would not be difficult to track Jeremiah down and since Jeremiah was a Duke, Count Dracula was no longer the most important vampire to roam the land.
Weeks later, Jeremiah's worst fears were realised when, away in the highest mountains of Transylvania, the local beasts began to chatter about this hip and happening club that anybody who was anybody in the realm of mythical creatures would attend. Count Dracula caught wind of these rumours and found a discarded “Undead Beatz” flyer lying on the cobbles. As soon as he touched it Dracula had a flashback recalling the whole incident that happened many years ago with the boy called Jerry who had had the audacity to stop his horses in the woods when he was on his way to replenish his blood supply. Dracula had left him for dead that night but evidently the bite had not been deep enough to totally kill the boy and now the boy was more aristocratic than he was. Therefore, he might be forgotten in the vampire legend due to this new, inexperienced imposter. He would not tolerate this and so he retraced his steps to the woodland surrounding the village where he first saw the boy to deal with him once and for all.
The queue to get in to 'Undead Beatz' was enormous. Creatures jostled for a place. Dracula did not wait and strode boldly to the front of the queue. The creatures turned to look at him as they recognized his foreboding face and even though there was a bouncer at the front of the queue trying to keep the rest of the creatures in order, Dracula ignored him. He stepped on to the chequered dancefloor.
“JEREMIAH!” boomed Dracula above the heavy beats.
The creatures that were dancing stopped and turned to look at him. Jeremiah looked up from his decks and saw Dracula in the crowd. Their eyes locked.
“Oh, what do you want you tiresome creature?” Jeremiah scoffed.
Dracula was enraged to be treated like this.
“I should have killed you in the woods boy” he retorted.
The mythical creatures were looking at Dracula, mouths wide open in astonishment. The music had stopped.
Jeremiah addressed the crowd: “It's alright everyone” he reassured them. “He is just irritated that he didn't get an invitation to this AWESOME PARTY!!!”
The crowd cheered, creatures jumped up and down. Dracula was really furious now, and he could feel the blood inside him begin to boil.
“Everybody LEAVE” he boomed to the crowd. “Jeremiah. Come down and face me.”
The creatures scattered.
“DJ. Please” Jeremiah said.
“You're not even a proper vampire” Dracula said “you're a fraud. I should have bitten deeper and ended you, for good.”
“Such anger issues” smirked Jeremiah.
Before Dracula could retort, a graceful swan glided down from the DJ booth. Jeremiah had always hated bats, so when he found out he could transform in to a swan he was satisfied. Dracula swiftly transformed in to a large, black bat. Then there was a fight between the two arch enemies. At first it looked as if Jeremiah would lose. Dracula tossed him against the wall like a rag doll. Jeremiah hissed in anger and responded by knocking the bat out of the air with his graceful wing. Beautiful white feathers were torn from Jeremiah's breast as he struggled to defend himself against the might of Count Dracula who's claws were extended and tearing at Jeremiah's white swan flesh. But then, Jeremiah got the upper hand, beating Dracula to the floor with an almighty lunge. He was just about to fly away victoriously when Dracula, with one broken wing slashed with the force of Jeremiah's blow, dragged his enemy from the air and sunk his teeth in to his neck once more. Jeremiah felt an agonising stabbing pain. The last thing he saw was Dracula standing over him laughing manically.
“I got you boy. Nobody can out rank me.”
Jerry awoke several hours later in his peasant's clothes with his father leaning over him anxiously, relieved that his son was alright and telling him that when he was ready, dinner was on the table. Jerry nodded thanks and his father left the room. He looked in the mirror, studied his reflection and thought about what an odd, vivid dream he had just had. He would tell his father about it over dinner. He went downstairs, took his seat at the table, and suddenly felt a strange craving. Before he tucked in to his steak he turned to his father and said:
“Father, could we have a glass of Rioja with our meal?”
His father looked puzzled. Jerry smiled inwardly, so maybe it hadn't been a dream after all.