So I’m not married (yet) and I haven’t moved in with my partner (yet) either. It’s a little bit complicated since we live very far from each other and before I move (bc of course I have to sacrifice everything and move bc he can’t since he has a child) I need to know that I’m not gonna be miserable in my new home.
As for now, his child (6y) has free access to “our” bedroom. The child has his own bedroom where he sleeps. He also has his very own bathroom in his bedroom but for some reason he only uses the bathroom in “our” bedroom. So he slams the door open, run in and scream at the top of his lungs “I have to pee, I have to pee, I have to pee” it bothers me a lot. Especially since he pee all over the toilet so I can’t use it until my partner gets his thumbs out of his ass to clean it bc I’m not cleaning that. I did not sign up for that. He comes in around midnight sometimes and wake us up bc he wants to show his dad something on his phone or tv. He’s 6!!! He’s supposed to sleep long before midnight!! And then he comes in around 6-7 in the morning and wake us up again. I need more then 6 hours of sleep. He also grabs toys from his own room and bring it in “our” bedroom to play there… He also is a very loud child, he never talks like normal people, he always screams! I’m not kidding, ALWAYS.
I don’t feel comfortable in what’s supposed to be our bedroom at all. I have to lock the door to be able to take a shower bc I don’t want his son to run in when I’m naked. I want our bedroom to be just that, ours, nobody else is supposed to be in there without our permission.
So I said that if I’m gonna move to him I need a place that’s gonna be my space. Everyone needs some space where they can walk away for a little bit to just breath and it should be my bedroom. Of course his son can come in if he wakes up from a nightmare or if he’s sick and need his dad.
I just want to be able to take a shower in peace and quiet, using the toilet without having to nag my partner about cleaning it or having to worry about his son hearing me pee and say how disgusting that is (yes it happened once). I want to be able to change my clothes without having to hide in the closet and stress about it bc his son can at any time run in and open the door to the closet. I want to be able to sleep totally naked in the summer when it’s so warm without his son running into the bedroom in the morning and crawl down under the blanket where I’m laying naked. I just want some privacy.
My partners answer? First he said I could have another room in the house as my space… so instead of just giving me the bedroom he really wants to give me another room. And when I asked why I just couldn’t get out bedroom to be our private place he said that he just want to spend as much time with his son bc when his son gets older he’s not gonna want to spend time with him anymore. But why do they need to spend time in “our” bedroom? He said I couldn’t understand bc I don’t have any children myself… which was a punch in the my stomach since I recently found out I’m most likely never gonna be able to have a child of my own. I’m still morning that it has been taken away from me and he says something like that. This is literally the only thing I’ve ever asked for. I’m prepared to give up everything for him, job, family, friends, my entire life and he can’t even let me have our bedroom.
Is it bc I don’t understand? Am I asking for to much? Am I in the wrong?

So I'm 17 (f) and living with my mom. My mom doesn't speak English fluently nor does the landlord but he's done a lot of things that aren't ok. He cut the water for 1 week because he kept saying there was leaking from our floor. We didn't have access to any water. We couldn't use the bathroom or wash the dishes for 1 entire week. Then he cut the water off for 3 days because he busted a pipe in the first floor. (We live in the second floor) He said he wanted to "fix" the leaking from our floor but didn't tell us when he was coming. He happened to come while I was taking a shower. He kept banging on the door. I stopped mid shower and with my towel went to the door to tell him that I couldn't let him in since my mom wasn't home and I had only had a towel. He proceeded to open the door with the keys he had. I remembered running into my room and locking it. Once he left (and didnt fix anything) I started sobbing because I didnt know what to do. (He cut the water again and I couldn't even finish my shower. I just felt dirty) The landlord didn't allow pets in the apartment but I got a puppy when I was 15. I understand why he was upset and I fully acknowledged what I did was not be correct. He uses this against us. Yet he still signed the lease the following 2 years. Recently he had someone come paint the bathrooms since we are moving out. Even after my mom initially said no to it. She originally told him to wait until after we left. But he told her that he would return her deposit. So she changed her mind. He came here under the pretext that he was doing to fix the bathroom and used this time to bring people around to show them that the apartment was available for rent. He even opened my door to show them my room to which I pushed and locked the door. He even sent a fake water bill. We live in Massachusetts. We don't get billed for the water. His excuse was that he needed more money and that we used the most water out of everyone. Even our neighbors who don't have paperwork get charged for the water bill. I've told them that it's illegal but they're to scared to say anything about it. It feels so frustrating to deal with someone like this. It brings me to tears that someone could really be this I wish I knew what to do.

My husband and I own our own home, and have lived together for 3 years
I like my own space sometimes. And sometimes, I'll lock the bathroom door when I'm in there because.. idk I want to? And I feel like I'm allowed to want that? We've showered together, gone to the bathroom in front of one another, etc. This definitely isn't that kind of problem.
But I want alone time sometimes I guess? But for the past month or so, EVERY time I go to the bathroom he comes and stands outside the door. He waits there, and listens, and this last week he's started UNLOCKING IT FROM THE OUTSIDE. He purposely goes and grabs a pen, takes it apart, and uses the ink thing to unlock it. He straight out refuses to leave me alone! And it isn't because he needs to use the bathroom or anything. He just wants to.
I've tried talking to him about it, but he just won't stop. And it's REALLY bothering me. Every 5 freaking seconds all I hear is "Babe? Babe? You ok? Babe?" And I'm going fucking insane. I haven't given him amy reason to think I'm not okay in the bathroom.
How can I get him to stop? How do I explain more thoroughly that this makes me wildly uncomfortable? He just isn't listening to me. How can I get him to not do this?

Last night I ran The Workshop Watches from the first edition of Arcadia. The players loved it!
I ran the session as a one shot, but afterward basically everyone said that they wanted to keep playing, if not in this adventure at the very least more in the world. It was such a good time. The characters (Minerva, elf wizard, Jeffrey, drow rogue (these first two had to peace about half way through the session) Dan, human druid, Joe, bugbear wizard, and Quartz, dwarf fighter) were on the mission from Amari to investigate the wizards and their progress in assistive magic. They arrived at the workshop and met SAM, the magical AI that was the workshop, but they assumed that it was just a door keeper. I had SAM appear as the light illuminating one of the runes the wizards had carved into the walls, but the players were surprised to see that the light followed them, illuminating the runes closest to them to represent SAM's presence. They asked SAM about the wizards and it said it didn't know where they were, and created food and water for them. The party wasn't specifically trusting or mistrusting of SAM, but they assumed it wouldn't be a big part of the story.
They got into the library and the druid tangled with the mimic. They defeated it easily enough but it was a cool moment for sure, the druid wild shaped into a bear while he was being eaten by the mimic. There were so many dope moments like that in this session.
The players kept moving through the workshop and started getting less and less trusting of SAM. I had the shambling mound/awakened tree be a kind of first try the wizards had given to creating an intelligent magical entity, they had tried to merge books with its consciousness to increase its knowledge, but it ended up breaking the tree's mind. Also another memorable battle because the druid (still a bear) was up on the roof of the green house and then broke through the glass to attack the shambling mound (the druid noticed it before the other characters since he was looking through the roof), and as he fell from the ceiling he shot a lightning bolt out of his mouth (not even sure if you can do that in wild shape, but it was a one shot). That blew a hole through the thing's chest which it then used to envelop the bear and the wizard summoned demons to fight. Lots of good crazy stuff. After that battle I had SAM act super curious asking more about how they'd learned to fight and cast spells which was a dope set up for the final battle. The players were at least mostly distrusting of SAM at this point since it still hadn't told them what happened to the wizards. They also saw the scorched part of the greenhouse and noticed that SAM shouted "CLIMATE CONTROL" at blasted ice when the wizard used burning hands against the shambling mound. It was such a dope fight. At one point the druid tried to climb back out of the greenhouse and the shambling mound hit him with an AoP just enough to take him out of wild shape, but I said he still managed to grab a hold of the roof as his hands shifted out of paws. Then the shambling mound tried to chase him up (the druid had by far done the most damage to him) and just as it arrived on the roof he hit it with a thunderwave, destroying the rest of the roof and the thing taking even more damage from falling. It was some dope stuff. The players were freaking out like every turn.
When they finally started up the stairs to the final room SAM started saying they needed rest, and cast sleep, which took out the wizard. The druid had had enough of SAM and decided to try sneaking over the peak of the mountain to get to the upper level instead of going through the workshop. He had an immovable rod and worked some shenanigans. The fighter thought that the wizard had just dropped dead and started to negotiate with SAM. He asked SAM to get some pillows so they could all go to sleep but as soon as SAM left he sprinted up the stairs, busted open the door to the workshop and saw the animated armor finishing SAM's body. At that point everything went crazy. The fighter started hacking the armor as the druid arrived over the peak, just in time for the wizard to come to and cast fireball in the middle of the hallway, melting two suits of armor and the flying swords, and damaging both his allies. A crazy battle ensued, SAM got into its new body just in time to be hit by a lightning bolt, only to return the favor and knock out the fighter. That was when the players realized SAM could copy their spells and they freaked out when it summoned four demons just as the wizard had done earlier. The wizard stuck a swarm of rats on SAM's new body as the druid, transforming into a warhorse, managed to take out most of the minions. The fight kept getting more and more intense as the fighter started failing his death saves, and the druid was torn between healing him and trying to take out SAM. In the end SAM knocked out the druid as the fighter failed his last death save, the wizard looked at his odds and misty stepped the crap out of there. I had no idea how it was going to wrap up other than a TPK, but I figured SAM hadn't seen the wizard teleport away and would probably stabilize the druid to get more information about the outside world out of him. But then the druid rolls a nat twenty on his death save, and opens his eyes to see SAM standing over him. "How did I fare in battle?" He asked the druid, half gloating. In the back of my head I'm thinking "there's no way he gets out of this, he has one hit point." But, instead of groveling or begging for mercy the druid tells SAM he had performed very poorly, and that the wizards had made a mistake in creating him. SAM got angry and started yelling that he'd defeated the party and the druid gets really quiet and then says "you saw me change into all manner of creatures, for which you have no explanation." SAM had asked him earlier how he'd changed into the bear, and the druid didn't bother to explain. He taunts SAM a little more, and then says, but practically shouts across the table "You think this is my only body? I have powers you can't dream of." I was struck by how hard he was roleplaying it and thought SAM is a being of curiousity, and so he says "how do you do it?" The druid smiles and says, "come close, I'll tell you my secret." I knew he had something up his sleeve but I had no idea what and he was playing to SAM's weakness so well, so I had him lean in. "Closer, I'm weak," he whispers and I say that their faces are inches apart. "I grab his center plate and I cast thunderwave." I have never seen three players so intensely focused. My mind was scrambling to figure out what would happen, knowing it was such a dramatic moment. SAM mega failed his save against the spell. The druid played his cards so well.
I say "An explosion rocks the room. Your vision goes blurry from the kick back of your own spell. When you open your eyes there is just SAM's center panel in your hand. You hear metal pieces clattering across the room and down the stairs." I describe how he sees now that the panel has a handle, and he opens it, revealing the amulet that holds SAM's consciousness. As he touches it he hears SAM's voice in his head. And then the player does something crazier than I could have imagined.
"I eat it."
The room is in silence. I look at him like he's insane, and he just nods. I ask for a constitution save as my mind races. He rolls a 19. This is a one shot.
I explain that he feels the amulet hit his stomach acid, and it breaks open. He can feel SAM's consciousness enter into his body, and it starts to push against his. In hindsight I should've had him roll a Charisma save here but I just stuck with the Con save he's already smashed, and said that he's able to overcome SAM's consciousness and absorb it into his. So I look at him and I say "well, you're like a 9th level wizard now." The entire table drops their jaw, including me. But the druid doesn't loose a second, he says "I wanna know what happened to the wizards." I say that he can feel SAM's memories as a part of him now, and so I describe how he incinerated Exor, and then pushed the others off the cliff. The players are stunned, but again the druid had no time to waste. I feel like its relevant to say that I literally met this dude last night, and he had just broken the entire adventure, maybe the world. He says "do I know revivify?" I laugh in shock and roll a dice and say yeah, he does. He brings the fighter back to life, and he describes how there's now a tiny blue light in the back of his eyes, and the fighter can tell that something is different about him. But he just smiles and says "Come with me, there is much to do."
Thank you Matt Colville for creating this wonderful shared moment at my table.

I'm sure you've all heard about that one person without a backbone who never speaks up for themselves and finds themselves getting used by others. Well, that's me. This has been a continuous problem that I have never been able to fix, so the only thing I can do is to vent on the internet. Recently I booked a private room in a library for a zoom meeting. We were discussing some personal info so I didn't wanna set up shop in a common area. Someone else was in the room. This has happened before, but every time people were understanding enough to vacate the room once it got reserved. This time, the girl inside said "is the room next door open?" I naively said "yes". She then told me she was taking a timed test, and asked me to go to the other room. I was the one who had reserved the room, not her. If anything, she should be the one finding another empty room and going there. Except part of my issue is I cannot formulate articulate thoughts under stress, so all I could manage to get out is "can you go there?" Once again I was met with "I'm taking a timed test." At that point, I shut down. So I went to the librarian and told them the issue. The librarian booked me into another room, which was great. Except it felt a bit like I was a kid running to mommy and daddy to complain about another kid. Next time I won't necessarily be in a situation where I can turn to a third party for help. And I was still angry I couldn't speak my mind about how they were an asshole for thinking the world revolved around their exam, and how they were stupid for not booking the room in advance if they really needed it. I've discussed situations similar to this in therapy, except I was in a low cost service with a limited amount of sessions, so I never got a good resolution to this issue. I'm so sick and tired of this.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

Hello,
I have a condenser (ventless) tumble dryer. Normally, when the drying cycle ends, the door unlocks and my clothes come out dry.
Lately what's been happening is that even after the drying cycle ends, the door remains locked, supposedly as a safety mechanism because the dryer is still very hot inside. After a while, the door unlocks. But by that time, the clothes come out a little damp.
I'm putting the same amount of clothes for the same amount of dry-time.
There's no error code.
I researched this problem and I found the overheating to be caused by lint buildup. My dryer does not have a lint filter, so all the lint builds up inside the condensation tank. I opened the condensation tank and it was choked full of lint. I cleaned it out thoroughly. The fan was also clogged of lint, so I cleaned that out too.
I replaced the thermostats with originals, both the High Limit Thermostat and the Manual Reset Thermostat because I read prolonged lint buildup in the condensation tank, damages the thermostats. I tested the thermistor and it read between 9k - 10k ohms of resistance. The heating element has continuity and it is not touching the case.
But the dryer is still overheating, because of this the door still remains locked, and so the clohtes still come out damp. The heating element is working because during the dry cycle, the door is quite hot, so I know the clothes are drying. It's when the clothes keep sitting locked in the dryer after the cycle ends, that moisture sets back in and dampens the clothes. I don't know what else to clean or what parts to replace.
It's a Haier HLC1700AXW Combo Washer Dryer.
Could it be that the outside of the steel drum also needs cleaning from lint?
Electronically, the last component I can think of replacing is the PCB board probably because the relay is bad. It's $300+.
Any ideas?
Thanks in advance.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1
By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you
thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up. I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me. “I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

The Marble Slab Part 1

By John Westrick
The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window, set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my suddenly exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.
I must've dosed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt as if I was staring into the abyss itself, a black hole pulling me into its inky embrace. That peculiar dream held me captive for God only knows how long.
The fear was overwhelming. It held me fast, like quicksand I found myself descending into the blackness. It was the first rays of light that finally broke my standstill, as if my body was frozen solid and the warmth of the sun was slowly dethawing my bones. I remained sitting in my armchair for a moment, letting the effects of the queer dream wash over me.
Finally, my mind began to return to a semblance of normality. I glanced outside to see the sun dancing happily in the orange and yellow of the fall leaves. My heart leapt at this sight. Shortly with the resilience of youth, I found myself forgetting entirely about the uncanny daydream. With a shout of glee, I found myself barreling down the staircase three at a time. No longer a care in the world, rushing towards blind adventure.
In school we had been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s, Treasure Island, and I had been convinced there was buried treasure somewhere in my backyard. My first hole was a five-foot deep pit. Buried treasure wasn't found, but I did succeed in severing our sprinkler system. The hole was shortly filled with water, and my parents put a stop to my digging efforts. At least it put a stop to my digging in the yard. I was too stubborn to give up on my dreams of finding pirate treasure to entirely stop. I just became more selective of the location of my digs.
I went into my dad’s shop, pilfered a flat head shovel and trekked down the trail where I could resume my search without my parents' oversight. Looking for the tell-tale signs of pirate interference, I found myself wandering off the beaten path. That is when I saw it. It was the largest oak tree I’ve ever seen. Massive, barren branches loomed over me like the hands of a twisted god. For some odd reason, that daydream came back to the forefront of my mind.
With the clarity of scared eyes, I saw a rickety cross held together by ancient twine fraying at the ends. A spark of excitement burned away all my concerns. Quickly, I clambered down the hill to the base of that giant oak to get a better look at the marker. At closer inspection, I saw one name carved into the base of the cross. It said, “Victor P. Alexandre.” It didn’t sound like a pirate's name, but still it was worth investigating. After all, one place was as good as another.
That first day, I shoveled loose dirt and clay for nearly 8 hours. The hole was larger and deeper than I had ever managed in the past. Even still, I found nothing. No buried treasure. No time capsule. Nothing of interest whatsoever. I was reaching my breaking point, when my shovel suddenly hit with a clink. Uncaring, I threw my shovel aside and slowly began to sift through the loose dirt. To my utter shock, my hands felt a smooth surface.
Using the water from my water bottle I washed the dirt away scrubbing it clean with my hands. The surface was white as bone, yet it was flat. At closer glance, I realized it was smooth marble. My heart was beating fast. If this wasn't hidden treasure, God only knew what else it could be. That second day, I dug like my life depended on it. The marble slab was bigger than I had expected, already I had exposed nearly four feet of it. The day was growing short and the shadows had been growing longer, yet even still, I found myself scouring that slab.
Right before the day turned to night, my hand ran across a large padlock. One of those old-fashioned, cast-iron locks. The heavy ones. It was rusted and the metal was beginning to flake, but still, I couldn't break it. I tried to smash it off with the pointed end of the shovel, yet it resisted my attempts. I heard my mother's voice calling to me.
I went scurrying towards the sound of her voice, doing my best to brush clean the dirt off my arms and legs. I mustn't have done a good job, because as her suspicious eyes fell upon me, I saw disappointment flash in them.
She looked me up in down and said, “You cut anymore sprinkler lines this time?”
With a sheepish grin I responded, “No ma’am.”
She gestured towards the bathroom and said, “wash up before your father sees.”
Immediately I obeyed, not wanting to push my luck. The rest of the night was uneventful. I slept like a babe. It was the last full night’s sleep I’ve had since. The last night not invaded by the nightmares.
I woke at first daylight. The excitement of my find, robbing me of my ability to sleep in. It was a Saturday morning and not a cloud was in sight. The wind was blowing in playful gusts tugging at my hair and the folds of my clothes. It was the sort of morning I'd dedicate to the flying of kites, yet today something else had my full attention. My mind raced at 100 miles per hour, fantasizing of all the possibilities. What lies under the marble floor? It must be something of great value to be buried so deep and guarded by such a lock. I thought that perhaps it was a treasure cove, hidden by conquistadors. Maybe it was secret entrance to a hidden civilization. The possibilities were endless.
My idea was simple If I couldn't break it off with brute force, then I'd cut it off with a grinder in my dad’s shed. To my great amusement I had seen him cut off the heavy lock I used for my bike when I lost the key a year prior. Luck was on my side that day, or perhaps it was misfortune. With a hollow thump, I leapt carelessly down into the hole. Those eyes flashed feverishly bright into my mind. The sudden feeling of fear almost made me clamber back the way I came. As suddenly as it came, it passed.
The curiosity of a ten-year-old was too great for any reservations I might have had. With in moments, I found myself cutting away. The grinder cut through the metal as if it was butter, showering the pearly white marble with orange sparks. A thunder clap brought me back to my senses. With a start, I nearly dropped the still spinning grinder. I looked up to see thick, black clouds beginning to roll its’ way towards me. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Yet, the inky blackness barreled towards me blocking the sun’s brilliant rays.
The light all around me seemed to dim. It felt as if time itself fast forwarded, stranding me in dusk. It was eerie, and a little shiver erupted all over my body. The storm seemed to be triggered by the cutting of the lock. But that's not possible; it can't be possible. Yet even so, I couldn't dissever my mind from this line of thought. It was preposterous, however, there was no storm before and now there was.
I heard a grinding, crunching noise and felt the slab beneath my feet begin to slide open. To my horror, I felt the ground give way, and then I was sliding into pitch darkness. I rolled a couple of feet and ended up sprawled on my back. The darkness down there was almost complete, except a single ray of light that peeked through the opening of the marble slab. I saw nothing down there, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I was being watched. It felt as if the darkness had eyes peering at me from all sides.
I didn’t remain down there long. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I kept imagining Dracula staring at me from the comfort of the shadows, his heart remaining eternally still. No need, when one is already dead. I clambered up the steep incline as if my life depended on it, for all I know it did. I didn’t stop running until I was safely in my room under my bed. I know it was silly, but I couldn't shake the feeling as if I narrowly escaped death.
I determined that tomorrow morning I would refill the whole and never look at that marble slab again. Now with a plan of action set into place, my fear began to lessen. When my parents finally made it back home to fix supper, I had forgotten about my near-death experience. I ate my meatloaf and broccoli and had a large bowl of ice cream, while I watched SpongeBob on the tv.
When bedtime came, I didn’t even argue with my parents to stay up later. I did something that night that I had never done before. I grabbed my mom's hand pulling her down to me and kissed her directly on the forehead, then I walked to my dad and repeated the sentiment. Then I looked each of them in their eyes and said, “You guys are the best parents a child could ask for. I love y’all very much.” Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes and even my dad looked close to waterworks. Something happened in the silence that preceded. Our relationship matured. I had seen them and accepted them as the individuals they were, not as the parents who exist for my wellbeing. We had looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged one another.
I think fondly of this memory and I thank God that I had this one final moment to make known all that my childish mind thought, but didn't have the ability to put into words. It was a tender moment, and it was the last time I saw my parents breathing.
I fell asleep almost the moment my head hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, the kind in which there are no dreams. The kind that leaves you well rested and excited for the next day. But it wasn't the morning when I woke. This watch of the night goes by many names; the dead of night, the witching hour, midnight, the time the moon goes to rest. They all mean the same thing; it's the period in which the night is darkest, and the hope of morning is nearly nonexistent. This is the time owned by the nightmares, where the boogey man walks freely.
It was a gentle tapping on my window that awoke me. My body became stiff and I couldn't move. Fear paralyzed me and I laid in my bed, senses hyper alert. I remained there hoping it was a branch against the window, but knowing better. The window in my room was directly above my head. With very little effort I could be certain of the cause of the sound. I didn’t want to be certain. I'd rather lay trying my best to convince myself it was caused by some ordinary means, than look and see the glowing red eyes of Dracula.
And in one way or another, I knew it was him. I was certain I’d look up and see his pale face shining as pristine as the marble slab that must be his resting place. As the night crawled along, the scratching only got louder until it was nearly deafening. It was then that my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. It was like a scratch your mom told you not to itch; the more you thought about it, the harder it was to ignore. My eyes flung wide and I looked up.
I could hardly believe my eyes. There on the other side of the glass was my old kite, the red and blue one that came loose and flew away a few weeks ago. I thought my fear would ease learning the source of the awful sound, but there I remained unable to get those red eyes out of my mind. The kite didn’t help persuade me of the silliness of my fears, in fact, it solidified them, as if it gave some sort of credence.
My alarm clock on my nightstand ticked slowly, and I watched as the digital numbers changed. Each minute seemed to take hours. Slowly the night’s grasp yielded to the onslaught of the coming day. The darkness faded leaving pockets of thick shadow casted by the steady rising of the orange sliver on the horizon. Even these strongholds of the night were unable to stand in the face of such an overwhelming adversary, and shortly I was left in the shining light of morning.
I had made a decision while I was warring with my fear. I was going to tell my parents about the marble slab and what I had done. They would know what to do. In fact, they would probably tease me for letting it get me so scared, but at that point I didn’t care. I would've welcomed the lighthearted jokes made at my expense. It would mean my fears weren't reasonable ones. All would go back to normal and I’d be another kid who had a silly nightmare.
The nightmare began in my parents' bedroom. I barged into their room hoping to receive the comfort I so needed. I found everything but comfort there. The room was entirely normal, except it lacked the presence of my sleeping parents. They were gone. I went into their bathroom thinking they might’ve gotten up early. It was empty. As I made my way back into the room, I noticed the window nearest their bed was open. Lying on the windowsill was an enormous droplet of blood.
My heart dropped and I knew exactly where they’d be. Dracula hadn’t intended to get me; he wanted my parents. The kite was a distraction, a way to settle my rational mind. I was right to fear, if only I had feared enough to run straight to my parents' room. Would things be different now? I think they might. In my book, belief was the only way to combat the vampires, and children have a knack for it. He must've known I'd never let him in my room. But tonight, he can come freely for me.
My parents. I failed them. No, I killed them. I never should've opened that door. I should've buried the hatch closed the moment I saw it. Of course, it was a grave. It had the marker above it and all. I’m an idiot, a God’s damned fool. The marker. What did it say on it? “Victor P. Alexandre.” So, this isn't Dracula after all, but in a way he still is. He can be killed the same way. Yes, that is what I must do.
It took me the remainder of the day to gather the required materials. I found garlic cloves in the spice cabinet, my family are catholic so it was not difficult to find a cross, the thing that took me the longest was making the wooden stakes. In the end, I used the legs of one of our kitchen tables filed down to a nasty point. As an afterthought, I grabbed the massive padlock my dad used on his shed sometimes. It never hurts to have a backup.
I followed the blood droplets of my parents to the hole I dug. I remained staring down at the marble slab, now drenched in my family’s life blood, unable to move from the spot. I watched in horror as the sun slowly began to make its descent, knowing that my chance was slipping between my fingers. A thought occurred to me. What if my parents are down there? Will I be able to look them in the face while I slide a stake through their heart?
Call it what you want, but a few minutes before the sun sank behind the horizon, a metallic glint caught my eyes. At closer examination, it was the little silver cross necklace my mom always wore. This spurred me into action, as if someone poked me with a red-hot brand. It burned my fears away, and left me with a numb sense of responsibility.
Without a second thought I launched myself down into the hole scooping up my mom’s pendant and ignited the flashlight. I didn’t have much time; the sun was falling. The shadows were lengthening. My heart beat a steady staccato against the inner walls of my chest. I was scared my damn heartbeat would wake the creatures giving me away. But I didn't have time to worry, so I didn’t. In a clarity unlike anything I've experienced before or since, I made my way through the opening of the sepulcher.
As I moved forward, I couldn’t help but think that I had been swallowed alive by some mythic monster. The darkness closed in on me and the faint glow casted by my flashlight only went about 4 feet in front of me. It looked as if I was in a catacomb. Urns and vases lined the walls on each side of me. Every few feet or so was a nook that held an empty casket. I began to panic after my first turn and the door was no longer in sight. What if he’s behind me or hiding in one of those alcoves? I was afraid to breathe or make any sudden noises. Thoughts of waking him and having to face him upright nearly stopped me in my tracks.
It was the sound of my parents' voices that pushed me forward. They gave me the resolve to see this thing through. I heard my mom tell me, “If not you, then who?” and the strong voice of my father admonishing me, “Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.” And so, I kept moving one step at a time, my footsteps being muffled by the suffocating blackness. Before I knew it, I was there looking at three closed caskets.
There was a grand coffin against the back wall, the others were near the two side walls. I knew immediately which one would contain Viktor. I walked straight to it, then hesitated and opened the one against the right wall. My mom was in it. She looked to be sleeping, nothing out of the ordinary besides two small puncture marks on the side of her throat. Against the left one was my dad. Tears filled my eyes, and I knew they had been turned. I stood there a stake in my hand, not quite able to plunge it deep into the heart of the woman who gave birth to me.
I closed the casket, making my way to the coffin of the monster who took my parents. I looked forward to shoving a stake through his heart and as I opened the casket a wicked smile was plastered on my face. The smile died away, when I looked down and saw that it was empty. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I heard rich laughter coming from directly behind me.
“I must admit, you've surprised me. I’ve had fools rush in here before to try to kill me, but usually they are glory seekers. This is a first for me. I’ve never come across a child brave enough to face me,” purred Viktor in smooth, slightly European accent.
Maybe it was the anger, maybe it was my body being unable to process the fear; regardless, my voice came out strong and confident, when I said, “And that’s why I ‘ll succeed, where others failed.”
Viktor began laughing and wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you what because you've made me laugh harder than I have in centuries, I’ll let you go if you leave right now.”
“Oh, sounds like someone is scared. You’ve been hiding in this tomb so long; I’m surprised you haven’t staked yourself out of pure boredom,” I replied.
“I wasn’t hiding you fool; I was locked in here by foes much cleverer than yourself. They weren’t stupid enough to think they could take me on their own. They locked the entrance and buried my whole sepulcher, until you haphazardly released me,” said the vampire.
I gulped knowing that he was at least partially correct. I had released him and my parents are the ones who paid the price. Without warning I lobbed a whole clove of garlic directly at his face. The creature ungodly fast swatted it away with one hand, hissing as it made direct contact with his skin. I saw a nasty burn appear suddenly on the flesh of that hand. I had time for a moment of triumphant, before the creature blurred towards me.
He struck me with the back of his hand sending me sprawling into the coffin that held my mom. I heard a bone crack in my ribs when I made contact. Pain filled my body and I cried out. This seemed to please the vampire as he slowly stalked towards me, my backpack filled with supplies held in his left hand. The stake I had been holding flew out of my hand when he hit me and I was left with nothing to stop his advance.
He knew this too; I saw it in the smug smile he wore across his face. It was done, my parents died because of me. I couldn’t even get revenge on their killer. I had failed them. And now, this creature was going to rip me apart slowly, enjoying every moment of it.
My mom’s voice cut through all my fears, and I heard her say, “I gave you my necklace, now kill this motherfucker.”
My hand reached to my neck and I felt the comfort of the cold silver against my skin. With one smooth motion I pulled it off, concealing it in my left hand. I knew I’d have to time it right. I would get only one chance at this, I had to make it count. The element of surprise was working in my favor, but even still the creature was fast as hell. I’d have to let him get close, painfully close before I struck.
I gave him what he desired most, I plead for my life. “Please, I didn’t mean it. Have mercy on me. I’ll serve you. I’ll do anything you need me to. I let you out, didn’t I?”
Viktor smiled a smile filled with pointed teeth. I shuttered; it wasn’t hard to act. I truly was terrified. This seemed to please him. He laid his well-manicured hands on my shoulder, holding me like a father holds his son.
“You have been very helpful to me; I can think of one way you can be even more useful,” said Viktor.
He leaned in almost as if he was going to kiss me, then at the last minute he bent his head back as if he was a snake preparing to strike. I expected him to do this, and with one fluid motion I shoved the crucifix directly down the throat of the creature. His sharp teeth cut my hand into ribbons, but the moment the silver touched his throat it erupted in blue flames. I watched in fascination as the vampire's head began to melt, then disintegrate. Within about thirty seconds the entire body of the vampire was reduced to ashes.
My mom’s necklace remained sitting on top of the pile of ash. I reached down and pocketed it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then I looked at the other two caskets. Tears made my vision swim. This is impossible. How am I supposed to kill the people who raised me?
I opened my mom’s casket again; she looked so beautiful laying in perfect peace. They looked happier than they had in years. The wrinkles beginning to form under her eyes were gone, smooth skin replaced it. Bottle that formula and sell it. For one low price of drinking a vampire's blood, you too can have skin that shines bright in the moonlight.
Something caught my eye. I looked down to the now torn backpack and saw the massive padlock I had taken from my dad’s shed. An idea sprung into my mind. Maybe I don’t have to kill them. I can lock them up and re-bury them. The night was nearly here and a decision needed to be made. In a moment of weakness, I chose.
It was well past midnight when I finished packing the rest of the loose dirt back into the hole. Shortly after I started, I could hear a clawing noise coming from within. I didn’t so much as stop for a water break. When the hole was half filled, I couldn’t hear the cries of my parents anymore. Although I do hear them in my dreams sometimes.
The moon was hidden behind rain clouds, making it difficult to see. In my mad scramble out of the catacombs, I had dropped my flashlight. I began my long trek back home, no longer fearing what lies in the dark.

I cut out caffeine about a year ago and thought I am okay still to have a small cup if it's very early in the morning once in a blue moon. So almost never do I have any caffeine at all. But today I knew I had a long day and I had an iced coffee and thought it would be fine. Now it's 6ish hours later and I'm stuck in what feels like a neverending panic attack for a few hours now and crying on and off. The worst part is I'm supposed to go to a show and have fun tonight. But I can't. I'm about to try to take a hot shower to see if it helps. Does anyone have any advice for me. This was a huge mistake and I know it's not like I can purge the caffeine from my system but I feel like Im going to die and I dont know how I can leave the house and people are counting on me
My anxiety is becoming so debilitating, I dont know why I had the coffee, my life is already being ruined by anxiety and I specifically ruined today through being an idiot

Today I went to Chipotle with my mom and brother. Or at least we thought we’d be going there. We met mom at her work and walked over to the Chipotle that’s a couple blocks from her office. When we walked in we saw that there were around 4-5 people ahead of us in line. No big deal. After a couple minutes we noticed the line wasn’t moving. When we looked up to see why not, we saw that there were at least 9 receipts for online orders that the employees were making. We stuck it out for a few more minutes but at this point the line was almost to the door. We looked up again and there were now even more online orders. It’d been at this point almost 10 minutes and they hadn’t served a single person waiting in line. At this point an employee said to another whom I’m assuming was a manager or more senior employee something to the effect of, should we start serving people in line? To which the other employee said firmly, “No.” Once that was said we left. It was obvious we weren’t going to be able to eat there since mom had to be back to the office by a certain time.
Look I totally understand that online orders can become overwhelming for restaurants as someone who frequently does online ordering. But at what point does it become feasible for them to literally have a line out the door and only be making those orders when you have people literally in the store. I’m not mad that they were making the online orders. I totally understand they need to do those and that it’s part of their business. I’m just disappointed in how the whole thing was handled. But hey I’ve never worked in the restaurant industry so I have no idea as to how this stuff all works. I’m just a dude who was really looking forward to some Chipotle with his mom.

I think most people in the community have gathered from Geoff Keighley’s ending speech at tonight’s Summer Game Fest showcase that PL will be shown this Sunday but I went back and re-listened to it (1.45.35 ) and he’s clearly saying it will be present at SGF’s Play Days, which we already knew about and they’re behind closed doors type of events anyway.
Idk bout y’all but I wanna see the game lol don’t give a fuck about a youtuber’s opinion on playing it
Edit: While Xbox’s showcase is part of SGF and they have had historically a marketing partnership with CDPR so it might end up being there, it’s just conjecture at this point. I’ve seen in other posts commenters bringing up PL being at Xbox’s as a fact and I think as I said they’ve gathered it from Keighley’s words at the end but if you go back to it at the timestamp I posted, again, he’s clearly saying PL will be present at SGF’s Play Days + on Sunday there will be Xbox’s showcase. Might happen but his words are not a confirmation of it. Title of the post might suggest I know something I actually don’t so I do apologize for that

This is probably going to be super long and all over the place (update: it was, I have severe ADHD so I apologize), but I just need to get it all out and hear from people who get it. This is one of those things you can't talk about. The only person who knows how bad it is is my grandma.
Anyways, I live with my mom. I'm 22, just graduated college and had a nice respite for the last five years living in dorm with easy access to food, proper living conditions, etc. Obviously that's in the past now and I'm stuck here until I can make enough to move out, but I want to help fix things before I do. While my mom has her weaknesses, she has had an incredibly difficult live and has faced so much abuse and discrimination. She only keeps going because of me, and frankly, I don't even know how she manages that.
As far as the actual situation- I say low-level hoarding but it's always been a pretty substantial thing. I'm probably discounting it. Better than it used to be and my mom is more willing to get rid of stuff, but we still have too much. She banks so much on having yard sales, which I don't think are worth it because of the energy and effort they take, especially because my mom is physically disabled. But being poor is the real kicker and what makes the whole situation so awful. Since my mom is disabled (which has also contributed throughout the years to the house not being so great) she gets SSI which only pays about $900 a month.
That being said, it's gotten to the point where multiple utilities don't work, the worst being the water. It's not because of the hoarding though, it's because we don't have the money to fix it and there's no assistance available (more on that later). The water stopped working because of something with our well, and we don't have the money to fix it. That's been the case for three years, and even when she did finally save up enough to put up, the guy said he couldn't fix it and he'd have to do something else that we'd have to pay more for, and was just really unscrupulous about the whole thing. Even being disabled, my mom is actually a pretty adept handyman and knows a lot of things that people don't realize, especially because she's 5 foot and incredibly outgoing, to the point of almost childishness sometimes. But she can be very professional when necessary. So no running water which makes cleaning incredibly difficult so it just kind of...stopped happening. Luckily my grandma lives on the next street over so we take showers and fill up water jugs over there to flush the toilet (the thing I hate most about our house) and take showers occasionally. Often I'll walk over to my grandma's if I have to go somewhere and my mom's not scheduled to take a shower that day, to save the gas. I hate that I have to do that, but I try to stay positive and tell myself at least I'm being active, because I don't otherwise. More on that later. Our HVAC system went out four years ago because a raccoon got into the duct work. HVAC work costs thousands of dollars. There's still a raccoon up there, they come and go. This past winter was the worst we've had. We have a few radiators and some space heaters, but we had extremely low temperatures for a few days that left our house only about 30°. That was really hard. Usually it's not too bad and we can bundle up and be alright enough. Summers however are a different story. We have some fans and window A/C units, but our house regularly gets to 80-85° and it's often hotter in my room than what the thermostat says in the hall.
We have food stamps, but they've cut them since I've graduated. We don't get much now and I already have an incredibly difficult time with food and food choices because I have severe ADHD and executive functioning issues (hence why it took me five years to graduate college) along with autism and sensory issues. Our kitchen is barely accessible. We haven't used our stove and oven since I don't know when, probably when I was in middle school. Part of it was my mom always said she didn't like using the oven because it made the house hot which required more A/C and therefore a higher energy bill, but also I think it was an energy/spoons (in the disability sense) thing. Everything pretty much after elementary school has always been microwave meals of my own accord. We never really had actual meals in the traditional sense, the closest we got was when my mom would make the microwave chicken parmesan with some mashed potatoes and corn or green beans (still all microwave) or chicken nuggets and french fries (when she'd pull out the fryer). I want (and need) to eat healthier but because of my executive dysfunction I gravitate towards what has the least barriers (physically and mentally in this case). Having less money also makes it incredibly difficult and because of my ADHD whenever I try to eat fruits and vegetables they expire before I finish them. We have to balance on paint cans to get to the fridge and microwave. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt myself, or worse my mom is going to hurt herself. She'll often offer to make my food since it's so difficult to get in there.
Because of my executive dysfunction, it's already difficult for me to fully take care of myself under more optimal circumstances, and even more so being at home. All I do is lay in bed, or if I wanted I could go watch a movie or something with my mom in the living room on the one chair we actually have access to. Could also go outside, but then I'd probably sweat and have to go walk to take a shower. I use Colgate Wisps (disposable waterless brushes) to brush my teeth, I could use the water from the jugs but because of the extra effort, I'll end up just not brushing my teeth. Even with the Wisps I often forget.
Assistance? Nonexistent. We get assistance with the electric bill but that only comes like once a year and honestly that just keeps us from getting disconnected, which we walk the fine line for the rest of the year. Utility/home repair assistance? Not anymore! The Habitat for Humanity for our county closed at some point and such other programs also either closed or just don't exist. Other counties won't help because we're out of county.
I've also got a deadbeat father that owes thousands in child support we'll never see because he moved to Ukraine (yes, that Ukraine) when I was a kid to avoid it (obviously before the wars). I wish I was making that up. I couldn't if I wanted to. That's besides the point though.
I just want to start working already (I just accepted a teaching position a few days ago!!) so I can help put money towards fixing stuff and making it better. I'll be making more money than anyone in my family has made in years, and really salary wise since my great-grandpa (my mom just worked exorbitant amounts of overtime when I was a kid before she became disabled so maybe comparable). I'm so excited and ready to break the cycle of poverty and have the life I've always wanted. I know it's not my responsibility to put my money towards the repairs, and I don't think my mom wants me to, but I want to. She deserves it and it's a quality of life thing for me too.
Anyways, sorry for the dump. Man it felt good to get that off my chest. That's not even all of it, but that's most of it. I doubt anyone will read all of this but if anyone does, thanks so much, I seriously appreciate it. Sending love to all the COH out there dealing with these unspoken battles ❤️