The following story is in answer to that request:
Chapter One
I had traveled alone to Transylvania. As a fan of Stoker's Dracula for as long as I can remember, I was interested to see something of that fabled land for myself. I have to admit to being rather disappointed. The Carpathian Mountains were nothing like they had been depicted by Hollywood. Covered in lush green trees with no obvious signs of craggy rock peaks they did not seem so very different to forest areas I had seen elsewhere.
Dracula was a local hero rather than a villain and Bran Castle was almost like a Disney castle for a latter day Princess rather than a monster. Bram Stoker’s Dracula was a figment of his creative mind for although Vlad the Impaler, to give him his other name, was not sort of person you would ever wish to have as an enemy, he was never a vampire. In my quest for the background to the Dracula myth, I stayed in a small pension in Sighisoara, the medieval walled town where Vlad was born. It was there that I met Mitch. He, like me, was intrigued by the Dracula story and had been backpacking in Romania for a couple of months. His journey had taken him though many of the remote villages. There he had visited the fortified Saxon churches that were so much a feature of the country as well as the timber Romanian Orthodox churches adorned on the inside with ancient paintings depicting the fires of Hell along with images of saints.
It was while he was staying in one of these villages that he became ill. He told me that he had gone to bed feeling quite himself, but when he awoke the next morning, he felt overcome by an unexplained lethargy. It had taken him almost a week to recover enough strength to continue his rambling and to reach Sighisoara. When he learned that I had a hire car and would be returning home via Budapest, he asked if he could join me. He offered to share the cost of fuel but knowing he was short of funds, I declined his offer saying that I would be glad of his company. We spent the night at the pension and made an early start the next morning.
Our journey back through Transylvania and Maramures to the Hungarian border was uneventful. Mitch pointed out a number of the places of interest along the way that he had already encountered and that made my trip all the more rewarding. Never have I seen so many churches on my travels and never have I seen so many that left me with an uncanny feeling that there was something not quite right, something eerie about them. The country folk hereabouts seemed like something from an earlier age, steeped in their religion and superstition. It was when we finally reached the Hungarian border that Mitch complained that he was feeling unwell. He said he felt weak and tired but other than that, he was unable to describe his condition. He looked extremely pale and his complexion had an almost transparent look.
When we arrived in Budapest, I checked in my hire car at the airport and we waited a couple of hours for our flight that would take us to England. Mitch fell asleep once we were on the plane and did not wake until we arrived at Heathrow. I was becoming concerned about his condition, and asked him where he planned to go next, was it home or somewhere else? He said that he had nothing particular in mind, so I offered him the choice of coming home with me and staying for a day or so until he was feeling better and was able to make plans. That was decided upon and we went to collect my car from the long stay car park. My home is in a small village in Surrey, not far from Guildford, so it did not take too long before we were in the house and sitting down to a meal.
I had a hearty appetite; travel has that effect upon me. I would have thought that Mitch would be hungry also as we had not eaten much that day and he had missed the in flight meal as he did not wake up for it. However, he picked at the food with his fork before pushing his plate away saying that he did not have the strength to eat. We sat together and watched an old movie on TV, and then made our way to bed. My house is little more than a country cottage really and has only two bedrooms. I showed Mitch the guestroom and we said goodnight and turned in. Tired from my travelling, I soon fell asleep. As I live alone and in the country, the house is very quiet and any unusual noise is likely to wake me. It was at about two in the morning when by a sound as though someone was walking around the house startled me into wakefulness.
I hurriedly got out of bed and checked to see if it was merely Mitch going to the bathroom. However, the bathroom door was open and a quick look confirmed there was no one there. I went downstairs and walked through the sitting room and kitchen. A full moon lit up the whole place and I could see that everything was just as I had left it prior to going to bed. The doors and windows were locked and no one was there. As a last resort, I quietly opened Mitch’s bedroom door. Again, the pale moonlight illuminated the room and I could see that the bed was empty. Of Mitch, there was no sign. The window was open and as it was a warm night that was no surprise. Only my guest’s disappearance was surprising. Concerned, but unable to do anything, I went back to bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
My night was filled with strange dreams centred on the ancient wooden churches we had visited together. I was overcome with a feeling of dread. I knew I was dreaming and in my sleep, I was trying to call out, begging someone to wake me up. Unable to make a sound, I could not move my limbs - it was completely scary! When morning came, I heard a knock on my door and it slowly opened. It was Mitch, he was looking fit and well and was holding steaming mug of coffee that he placed on the small table by my bed.
“I hope you don’t mind me helping myself to things in the kitchen,” he said with a broad smile on his now rosy looking face. “I’ve made some breakfast – perhaps you will come down and join me when you’re ready.”
I drank the coffee and went to the bathroom where I splashed some cold water over my face to wake myself up properly – my shower would have to wait until after breakfast, I told myself. I pulled n a bathrobe and went down to the kitchen. Mitch had prepared some eggs and bacon as well as some toast.
“Aren’t you having some?” I asked when I saw that he sat opposite me with nothing to eat.
“I had mine already,” he replied.
As I ate my breakfast, I could not help but ponder over the change that had come about in Mitch. He had never seemed too well. However, all of a sudden, here he was looking fit, blooming even and fort the first time sexually attractive. Gone was his pallor, his complexion was so different! His dark eyes sparkled and he seemed full of energy. Whether he was aware of the fact that he was making me feel horny just by sitting across the table from me or not, I cannot say but he asked me whether I was gay. When I told him that I was, he said that he had formed that opinion of me and admitted to being homosexual himself. He then told me that he had felt restless during the night and had gone out for a walk. He was passing the nearby park when he spotted a figure walking toward him. He said that it was a young man, probably aged around eighteen or nineteen. They fell into conversation and Mitch learned that the man was on his way home from a party. He seemed a little drunk and suggested that Mitch might like to accompany him into the park.
Mitch said that he had agreed having nothing better to do and they sat down on a bench. “He came on to me; he kissed me and fondled my crotch. I had little doubt as to what he had in mind,” Mitch continued. “I grew hard under his hand and before I knew it he had my dick out and was sucking me off. I came almost immediately as I had not had any sex in quite a while. His cock was rock solid under my hand and I gave him a blowjob in return. We then parted and I came back here.”
I was amused by the forthright way in which Mitch told me about his nightly escapade and at the same time, I was jealous of that stranger. Mitch seemed so appealing to me but he was not showing any signs of feeling the same way about me. Reluctantly, I told him that I had to go into work but that he could have the run of the house and I gave him a spare key. He said that he was feeling a little tired and would probably take a nap. As he had been up and about during the night this did not seem at all unusual to me.
When I arrived at my office I found my colleagues engaged in a hearty discussion about something. “Have you heard the news?” Ron, my boss asked me as I walked up to the group.
“No. What news?” I asked, thinking that someone must have had an accident but then I saw that all the staff members were present.
“Someone attacked a young fellow in the park last night. He’s dead and it’s been said that he was drained of all his blood. It sounds really weird!” It was Steve who gave me this piece of information. I straightway thought about Mitch, perhaps it was the same guy that he had met. The group continued to speculate about the event and some bright spark suggested that if the corpse had been drained of blood then it must have been the work of a vampire. Everyone laughed at that suggestion and the group broke up as people settled down to their tasks for the day.
Never the less, I had the uneasy feeling that there could be some credence in the vampire theory and then I told myself not to be so stupid. Fresh as I was back from Transylvania, I was letting my imagination run riot. Mitch would see the funny side of my concerns when I told him about the killing that evening on my return home.
To be continued:
