Mina

The tour of Bran Castle was brilliant.  I had chosen the twilight tour as it was the most creepy; but my friends had opted for the daytime one, so I was alone with only two other people and the tour guide. 

With my camera in hand, we ascended the stone stairs and walked around the place.  The tour guide told us of wonderful facts and some fun myths of the place with this strong Transylvanian accent rolling gorgeously off his tongue; it was almost sexy in a way as his voice bounced off the empty walls of the place, and yet he was older than he appeared.

I took plenty of pictures with the light that there was, and found that the rooms had been sparcely furnished to show how big they really were; and I used the light and the furnishings in my shots to my best as I didn’t want my holiday snaps to feel like just happy-snaps… I wanted them to tell a real story.

“Mina, are you ready to follow us?” Georgio asked at the door, “I do not wish to leave anyone alone in his room.”

“His room?” I asked.

“Yes, this was his master bedroom.” The guide said looking around, “The place where Mina and the Count spent so few nights together…” he smiled a little, “Such a pity the myth is what people believe instead of the right story.”

I gazed at the beautiful mirror, the view out of the window and the huge, four-poster bed, “Yes… pity.”

“We cannot linger.” He said, “I do not like losing people in this place.”

“Okay.” I smiled.

He turned and went across the corridor into the next room as I looked around for a last time, then turned to leave, when I heard a footfall behind me and a soft, charming voice, “Mina, my love.”

I turned and looked around, but nobody was here, “Ghosts.” I turned to leave again, and a cool finger moved my hair from my shoulder! I spun… searching the room in the fading light of the day!

“Mina.” His voice was louder, but still on the breeze, “My dear, you’ve returned to me.”

I turned and found the room had come alive with the Count standing before me.  His face lit up as I stood before him, his arms open to me as he walked toward me and embraced my tiny form.  I didn’t know what to do as he took in a deep breath – smelling my hair – and sighed.

This man was obviously in love with me – well the Mina he knew – and it looked like I had to play along until this little fantasy was over.

“Returned?” I asked.

“Yes.” He drawled, “You have been gone all day and I missed you.”

This guy was nothing like what the myths led me to believe!  He was nice, kind and he led me into the room by my hand, sat me down and asked what I had gotten up to during my day.  No man does for me now! 

Before long, we were seated in our room at a lovely little table by the window eating a meal chatting.  It was the most intelligent conversation I’d had in years; well with a man anyway, and I was totally enjoying myself!  How could people call this man a horrible person?  I wondered about it all through this evening. 

Then, as it became late, I turned toward the door, and heard a few voices out in the corridor calling my name.  They were distant as I pulled open the heavy wooden door that sat ajar and I saw across the corridor, my tour guide who stepped toward me and grabbed my shoulder as I heard the man in the room behind me shout:   “No!  Mina, come back!”

That night, I was looking at my photos on my laptop back at the hotel.  My friends were amazed I had gotten such a great collection.  I went to bed at around 10pm, just as my friends did in the surrounding rooms.  As usual, I kept my camera in the bedside table; where I could lock it up and it was close by and went to sleep. 

But it wasn’t long before a cool finger crossed my cheek, waking me in the night.  Opening my eyes, I looked up to find the man I had seen earlier that evening at Bran Castle, standing over my bed!  I couldn’t move as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “You cannot escape me, Mina.  I am always here.”

“But I’m not your Mina.” I replied shakily.

Without moving away, he paused for a moment, “Then, I shall make you mine…” Faster than I thought possible, this man held me down, pushed my head to one side and bit into the tender flesh of my neck!  It was painful, delightful and horrifying at the time; and yet when he had finished, I wished deep down he hadn’t, “You will be mine in the end, Mina.”

“No, I won’t.” I said as his vanished into the shadows.

He returned twice more.  By the time the third time he was due, I had found my way to Bran Castle where he met me at the gates, “I told you that you would be mine, Mina.”

“And I told you that I won’t be.” I said, “Leave me alone.”

Turning to leave, I heard a voice in my head, ‘Mina, please stop, my love.’ And I paused a moment, half-turned then kept walking.  This kind of hypnotism wasn’t going to work on me.

My eyes opened in the hospital, and my folks were shocked to see me survive the car crash in Transylvania.  Mum rushed to my side as she brushed the hair from my face, tears wetting her cheeks where they had already been before while Dad raced out into the hall shouting for a doctor.  But I didn’t see them… I saw the man from the castle standing over in the corner.

‘Mina, my love, I shall always be with you.’ He smiled, ‘No matter how many centuries of time separate us, I shall always been here for you, my dear.’

I looked away from him as the doctor came in, “Make him stop talking to me.” I begged.

“Who are you talking about?” the doctor asked.

“The man in the corner.” I pointed.

He turned and glanced to where I was pointing, “What man?”

“The Count, he thinks I’m his Mina.”

The doctor paled, “Oh no, not again… the Count has claimed another mind.”

Dad pointed to a pamphlet, “It’s a myth.”

He looked down, “But it’s not, and there’s no escape for her once he’s made contact…” he inspected my neck, “… and he has.”

This was one of Chuck's great mixtures of genres... there were 20 to mix up and I got 'paranormal romance' and 'time travel'... and I thought Dracula in modern day would be fun! 

Eon's Creek

I was busy at work when I received the telegram from my brother that another hapless soul had disappeared from behind the cottage in Eon’s Creek.  Nobody had heard anything despite the corner store being not that far away; and overlooking the bubbling, clear creek itself.

Clearing the next week of meetings and anything else I had on, I packed a small bag and my pagan case I had taken with me from my parent’s house and drove back home.

Eon’s Creek was behind Grandma’s cottage which was across the road from William’s place on the quiet street.  As I pulled up outside his house and turned off the engine, I sat staring at the old, rundown place.  We had tried to sell it a number of times without success and it ended up being boarded up and left to rot.

William stood on the footpath as I popped the boot of my car from inside and then reached over to the front passenger seat and grabbed my bag before getting out of the car.  My brother had grabbed my pagan case from the boot for me and closed it down gently.

“So, when was the last disappearance?” I asked pressing the tab on the keys for the central locking and hearing the comforting ‘chunk’ from inside the car.

Walking back onto the footpath, he frowned, “That’s not exactly what I meant.  Come inside and I’ll show you.”

I had a million questions but decided to wait until he showed me what was going on.  And when he opened the door to his house, I had forgotten what I was going to say when I took in the sight of a young man sitting staring at the empty fireplace, “He’s not gone.”

“Yes he is.” He nodded, “Physically he’s here, but mentally he’s not here.”

I waved my hand in front his face and young man slowly reacted to me, looking up at me – staring – with an expression in his eyes that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  I involuntarily took a step back, “Woah.”

“Yeah, his soul’s gone.” William whispered.

“Has he spoken to you?”

The young man by the fireplace sneered, “I speak.” His eyes met mine again and my mouth went dry, “I went to cottage across the road and heard the creek.”

“You can’t hear it from the road.” I said.

“That’s not what I mean.” He looked back at the fireplace, much to my relief, and continued to tell me what happened, “I heard it talk to me.  It told me to come here a story.”

William and I exchanged shocked expressions.  We had heard this story before:  the creek enticed its victims by its side with a story, and once they were close enough by its banks, a fog rose up quickly… so quick, you’d lose  your bearings… then the next thing you knew, the water rose fast, running quickly and strong!  But by then, the victim would have passed out from panic or slipped on the rocks and hit their head.  Rarely would a victim come back to tell the story.  Eon’s Creek would engulf them – body and soul – to feed upon them for years before claiming somebody else.

But it had been over a decade since our Grandmother had cast her powerful spell on the creek to keep it from harming anyone.  So, something – or somebody – had done something to break that spell and caused the creek to feed again.   Now, don’t get me wrong, this creek isn’t a place of bad omens, or Devil worship; no it goes well back into history.  It’s a creek that has been around for over three hundred years and has seen its fair share of development, war and death over that time; so it’s only fair for a place like this to have its own history – kind of like a haunted house or building has theirs. 

“You’re the first person I thought of, Jane.” My brother said, “You’re the only one the creek won’t mess with.”

“Okay.” I nodded, “I’ll find out what the hell went haywire.” I took my case from William and went out the front door, across the road and onto Grandmother’s land.  Within my mind, the old chants started up straight away – the ones Grandma had taught me to keep the creek from harming me if I ever needed to work a spell this strong – and I kept walking down the side of the cottage.  When I arrived into the back garden, I found immediately what had occurred:  the oak tree which was used in the last spell had been chopped down by the council.  It had been a major part of the spell to stop the creek from feeding.  Turning from the creek, I started to hear it: ‘Come by my side, come and hear a story, Jane… just for you…’

Looking down at my feet, I saw the mist swirling around my ankles.  It had been waiting for me, “No.” I walked away from the enticing sounds of the creek as it sang and twitter along the trees.  But I had an idea that might work, I just had to clear it with William first.

“Burn the place down?  Are you nuts!” he shouted at me.

“It’s not just enticing people on the property anymore, it tried to keep me from leaving!  And it knew me by name!” I retorted, “And oak isn’t there anymore – that’s why the spell is broken.  The damned council chopped it down because the damned tree died!”

“Oh shit.” He said, “We do have to burn down the house.”

“It has no value anymore, so let’s do it tonight, and the creek will free everyone’s souls and it’ll just be a creek again… a normal one.”

It was around midnight when William and I set Grandma’s house on fire… we didn’t wait for it to be fully lit, instead, we watched it from his place as it burned to the ground.  And incredibly, we both saw the mist rise from the roof and creek into the atmosphere.  I watched carefully the man in William’s house look from the fireplace to us and frown, “I’d like to know where I am.”

“You’re safe.” William said smiling.

The man stood slowly and I noticed his clothes didn’t fit him.  The sleeves slid up his arms showing a tattoo of a barcode – the way prisoners are tracked these days which fades when they’ve served their time.  This one was fresh and still healing, “Yes, I’m safe, but you’re not.”

The Life Drawing Class

She pulled into the car park.  Angie was very nervous about this.  She had never let anyone this close to see her true being without anyone being hurt.

She sat there for a moment with the doors locked wondering if she should just start the car, put it into reverse and get the fuck outa here!  Looking up at the building in South Brisbane, she watched as the artists showed their invites and paid their way inside, counting the limited amount who were allowed in… 20 that was the number she had decided on.  Swallowing, she licked her already dry lips, gathered her gear and got out of the car.

Mortals normally didn’t believe in somebody like her – as her kind were being wiped off the planet at a phenomenal rate these days.  But the half-mortal witch promised her over the phone that she had checked out each and every one of them during a one-on-one interview.  Livia – the half-mortal witch – had had an aura-reader sitting off in the shadows reading the artists each time.  And when she mentioned they were going to have a special guest there to model for her this time; and each time she mention the special guest, the pure mortals had reacted normally, but their aura had let out their true intentions, the aura-reader had emerged from her place and performed a proper reading to find out who they worked for, where they were from and what they intended to do with Angelica once they caught her.

For most like her, when they were caught, their essence would be taken from them, they’d be mortal again and they’d become suicidal and… well, you can guess the rest.  Or they’d become the slave to somebody on another planet or realm; seeing humans weren’t of use on Earth anymore; and were seen as too flawed to be durable enough to be tortured, possessed or asked to be used as a vessel by God’s True Warriors.

She pulled on her oversized robe, wrapped it around herself and looked up at the mirror.  Angie could feel the pull around her shoulders and she moved uncomfortably as the itchy fabric rubbed against purity.  The owner of the gallery turned on the heating and he closed up the doors and pulled the shades… this made her feel very safe from the public eye. 

There was a knock on the door and it opened a little to Livia popping her head in, “Okay, they’re ready for you.”

“I’m so nervous.” She whispered.

Livia stepped inside the room and closed the door, “It’s okay, they all checked out… honestly.”

She sighed, “Good.”

Livia left the room and Angie picked up her bag, her jacket and walked out there in a pair of socks.  There was one large room where they all gathered.  Easels were set up – as were the artists – and she stepped into the middle of the circle.

“What’s your name?” one asked.

Livia looked at him and the aura-reader turned from her secret place and read him, looked back to Livia and shook her head, “It’s okay, you can tell him.”

She nodded, “Angie.”

The owner of the place walked up to the edge of the circle, “Okay, people, you know the rules, no photography, no personal questions and no making fun of her… this is a special deal for you lot.  And if you all notice, you’re standing in specially designated places, as you mortals can’t be trusted to be true mortals; as demons walk amongst us in your bodies.” He looked at Angie nodded, “Okay, we’re ready when you are.”

She pulled off the robe and moved her shoulders as brilliant white/gold wings unfolded from her shoulderblades.  Her body was luminous, shining and beautifully muscular and the whole room went completely silent for a few moments as the mortals all fumbled with their sunglasses.

“Now, if any of you have any second thoughts or don’t want to be here, now is the time to say so.” Livia’s voice said in the bright light.

Nobody said anything.

“Start drawing.”

They were only there for a few hours, but it felt as though it was for longer.  Angie’s luminous skin vanished under the robe as she pulled it back on; much to the relief to the mortals surrounding her.  She sighed as her body automatically folded away her wings – as it had done since she was a little girl – and she pulled on her socks to go and get changed.

She had made $300 that night; as the mortals had paid top dollar to see an Angel get naked at an art class.  The problems with this kind of thing is big – massive – as the mortals will show their drawings to their friends and nobody will believe them that somebody like her was at a dodgy backstreet art place like this.  She put her bag in her little Barina and waited for the witch and aura-reader to come out with the owner of the art place.  He locked up the place as Livia stood talking to him about further appointments when the aura-read was about to reach the car… she stopped, looked up at Angie and – without a word – she used her powers to move faster than the human eye and stood between Livia and the man just as he began to turn into a demon.

“Dammit.” She whispered placing her hand on his shoulder as his eyes, mouth and torso lit up bright and he died in front of her.

Livia’s eyes widened, “Wow, how did you know?”

“I didn’t.” she said, “But then, you’re not half-mortal after all, are you?”

“Crap.” Livia mumbled shaking her head.

Before Angie could do anything, the aura-reader stepped up behind the witch, touching her on the shoulder, eliminating her damned soul – with the demon as well – to Hell.  Looking at the reader, she frowned as it vanished before her eyes.