A Vampire Calls

Amelia tries to sit, but the effort is too great, and she falls back against the cushions. She feels as if every ounce of energy has been drained from her body.

I’ve recently started a new novel and I thought it would be fun to write about some of the characters and their backstories. The novel is cosy horror - which is a new genre for me - and this little story features a character called Amelia.

I hope you enjoy it.

Fran

10^th August 1890 - Whitby

Amelia wakes to find a man leaning over her. He is wearing a silk dressing gown and holding a candle. When he sees she is awake, his expression changes from concern to relief.

‘Where am I?’

She glances around the room, which is simply furnished with a desk, chair, and the sofa on which she is lying. The curtains are drawn and a fire burns in the grate. She assumes it is newly lit because it emits no discernible warmth.

‘You are in my home,’ the man replies. ‘I was working late when I heard a knock at the door and found you collapsed on the step. I carried you inside. Are you ill? Shall I fetch a doctor? Or perhaps a glass of brandy?’

‘No, not ill.’ Amelia tries to sit, but the effort is too great and she falls back against the cushions. She feels as if every ounce of energy has been drained from her body. ‘Merely exhausted. I was on a ship, the Demeter; my father is the first officer. We were returning from Varna. I have cousins there.’

‘The Demeter?’ The man raises his eyebrows. His dark hair is parted in the centre, and he is clean-shaven except for a small handlebar moustache. Amelia is drawn to his neck, which protrudes from his gown like the stipe of a mushroom. ‘The ship that ran aground two nights ago?’

‘Ran aground?’

‘There was a terrible storm. The captain was found lashed to the wheel. There were no…’ He stops, suddenly conscious of what he is about to say.

‘Survivors?’

Her memory is returning, and with it, the hellish details of the journey. The malevolent presence haunting the decks, the sailors driven mad with terror who threw themselves into the sea, the vanishing crew. Finally, only she and the captain were left. When the storm came, he instructed her to hide in the hold with the cargo.

‘Yes,’ the man says. ‘There were thought to be no survivors, except for a black dog that was seen jumping from the ship onto the beach.’

‘No dog,’ Amelia says. ‘If there had been a dog, I would have seen it.’

Yet there was something in the hold. It moved so quickly she barely had time to scream before it latched onto her neck.

‘It’s a miracle. Your survival is truly a miracle.’ The man tilts his head, and saliva floods Amelia’s mouth. She is suddenly ravenous.

‘It is,’ she agrees, ‘and now, if I may, I will accept your kind offer of refreshment.’

All my stories are free, but if you enjoyed this a like and a restack would be much appreciated and please consider subscribing if you haven’t already. My stories are short, dark and often funny, so if you enjoyed Inside Number Nine, Beetlejuice, and The Adams Family this could be the Substack for you. x