The Last Vampire

by Mary Danganan

  I could not blame her. I had left her hanging for no apparent reason, and she had done nothing wrong for me to leave. She was perfect for all the right reasons, and there was nothing I could judge about her personality. She was every man’s ideal woman, and it was my huge mistake to let her go when I had the chance to make her stay.

  Although I had superhuman abilities to run at a miraculously fast pace, I felt my legs went numb. My thighs were getting heavy, and the sprint I should have long done had turned into a merciful dragging of both feet. My eyes felt like they had been stung with irritating smoke as I fought the tears struggling to drop. My head was crowded with thoughts, and I knew these thoughts would not help me with whatever indescribable situation I was on right now.

  I could see the façade of our lovely abode. It had been dark most of these days since father preferred that our house looked spooky or precarious to enter. I hated the dimly lit ambiance, and since I stayed mostly outdoors, I was not able to turn the lights on.

  After concentrating to light them with my mind, the lights were on seconds after. I entered the front door as quiet as possible, keeping my tracks unknown as I went inside.

  Victorious with my silent arrival, I went in my room and sat at the edge of my bed. I gazed at the beautiful moon before my window, playing various tidbits of moments in my brain. My head had been filled with a rollercoaster of memories. There were a bunch of ups on the list, but mostly they were overpowered by the downs.

  What I had as the sweetest, most memorable days of my life were chunks of joy with Peyton, but they were highly limited and scarce.

  My feet had a mind of its own as I stood with an absent mind. I walked like a dead man towards the dresser for no definite purpose. My hands were searching for something, but my head was still busy with the tracks of memories playing at random. Finally, I raised my hand as I seized a huge, sharp pair of scissors.

  My eyes were drawn to the opaque light reflecting through the metallic blades. I wondered how much pain it would inflict on humans if they drove it against their weak, susceptible flesh. This would not hurt for us, except if they dismembered our parts or shove it straight to our hearts.

  Yes, our hearts.

  I looked at my reflection through the steel material, peeping through whatever part of my face it had mirrored. My eyes were nimbus clouds ready to start a storm. They were dark, brooding and barely fighting to keep the rain from falling.

  With the pointed weapon still in my hold, I walked towards the window to see the light. My eyes obsessed with the moon’s beauty and serenity. I wondered how it felt to be tranquil and resting, with all the worries in life dissipating up to the clouds.

  I held the scissors tight with both hands and raised them up before me. If there was anything in my existence that ever mattered, that would be have been long lost and gone.

  My grasp was strong, but my fists were shaking violently. When I was to ram the fatal edge to my chest, I tensed up and froze in my place. The center of attention of my eyes was the blade, waiting to be pierced through my chest to tear my heart out, but my peripheral vision caught something that piqued my sub-consciousness.

  On the end table near my bed, I could see the portrait of my mother drawn to perfection by my father. He had failed to keep a photograph of her since that day since all he had during the escape was us. His heart never forgot her face though, and as a memento for me to keep, he drew her through with his own memory of her.

  I had not changed my sight’s focus. I was still standing there in awkward silence and stead, holding the scissors before my body. For some reason, I made sense of everything, and my thoughts began to summon back in my brain. My mother had done a heroic deed to save our kind, and the sacrifice she made should have been worthy of all the loss suffered.

  I might be that lucky one, but was I worthy of everything that got lost and sacrificed?

  I succumbed on my knees as I dropped the fatal weapon from my grip. The rain had fallen as my tears rolled before my cheeks, desperately crying as my last resort. Life had been unfair and too hard on me, and I could not understand the real meaning of it. I had failed miserably, and I had placed myself in the quicksand so many times and yet, I was still here, alive and kicking.

  “Jorge?”

  The light from outside of the room glimmered in a long strip towards me. I raised my chin to see my father watched my meltdown. I was uncertain what to do since our relationship had still remained suspended on air.

  He was careful with his steps, keeping them airy as if he was walking on shards of broken glass. I was still on my knees, dumbfounded by what to say or do next. He knelt before me, taking the scissors far from my reach.

  “I’m sorry, son. I should have apologized earlier. I should have been supporting you through tough times.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, stupefied as words failed me. I was too blinded by my own vanity to become oblivious of his presence, as well as my mother’s spirit guiding me throughout the way.

  “Forgive me, father.”

  “It’s okay, son. I’m here now.” I hugged him tight as I buried my face in his shoulders, comforted by the warmth of his embrace. I felt calmer with his support as I recover from my downfall.

  My father stood me up and lent me a hand, helping me sit on the side of my bed. He put the scissors on the end table, keeping it far from my grasp before he settled beside me.

  “Son, I know you’re doubting me, but I will never lie to you. I’m not the killer.”

  “I guess that’s not really my problem, father. There’s something more than that.”

  He patted my back gently as he waited for me to speak out. I faced him with courageous eyes, ready to admit the root of all my sorrows and despair.

  “I’m in love, father.”

  He raised his brows, delighted by the news I had uncovered. He could not hide the grin on his face as he asked me about my lover. “Your mother must be smiling right now.”

  “I know. But I fell in love and lost it.”

  The smile on his face disappeared upon hearing the wistful end of my love story. “It’s okay, son. Things happen for a reason. There’s something better waiting for you out there, just wait and see.”

  I forced a smile at him, grateful that I had a father and best friend in him. Without him, I could have been long abandoned, lost in the world alone where only the fittest remained.

  “Don’t worry, Jorge. There’s a lot of time to search for that perfect girl.”

  I laughed at his dark humor, amused by the way he managed to make a gloomy man jolly for seconds.

  “Thanks, father. I’m not flattering you when I say you’re the best. Sorry for being the worst son the best father could ever have.”

  I could tell that he was exuberant of my genuine compliment as his face lit up.

  “No, son. I am more than blessed to have you.”

  Chapter 14: Peyton Hunt

  “Peyton, have you secured our tickets for the upcoming game this weekend?”

  James had his eyes on the screen of his computer as he smashed the keyboard with his fingers. He looked anxious about managing the coverage for the biggest baseball game hosted by our small town. The heavy burden and pressure of proving himself were on his shoulders. He needed to deliver a superlative job on this one, as this would highlight his work for the year.

  “We’re excited another bomb performance from you, Boyle!” One of the head writers passed by his desk, cheering him on for the task. I caught him exhale heavily, ignoring our co-worker’s support for this task.

  Ever since I had been repositioned as his staff, I had learned a lot of things about James. Despite his laid back, calm nature, he was a truly blooded workaholic. His standards were high and precise, and he did not want to settle for something good or satisfactory. No wonder he had climbed the career ladder faster than the elders in our pub.

  I was relocated to sit next to his table. His table was a mess, but he knew where everything was. It was a basi
c man’s trait, although some might pass as exceptions.

  For say, Jorge.

  I shook my head and tried to focus on my daily tasks. James was too kind to let me handle some of the easiest duties for our tandem. After calling the ticket store to secure two good seat tickets for the game, I checked the e-mails for the news and correspondence, but there was nothing to update. I stared at the list of things-to-do, and now they were all done.

  My eyes swarmed around the office. Everyone’s busy with their responsibilities, while I was sitting pretty here with nothing to do. I decided to drag my chair near James to watch him work with his deadlines.

  “Hey.” He looked focused, but he managed to notice his curious audience. “You vacant?”

  “Uh, sort of.” I felt embarrassed for being a procrastinator. He faced me with a sober expression as if he was not in the mood for any conversation.

  “Please do accomplish some of these paper works, then. We need some prospects and if you can find anything interesting, that will be of so much help. Thanks.”

  He returned his attention back to the screen as if I was non-existent and invisible. I took the folder beside him and pulled my chair back to my desk. I felt the awkwardness in the air, reasons of which I was uncertain of.

  I could not blame him if he was still recuperating from the pain. It might be about the strain of work or the pressure of meeting everybody’s expectations. Whatever his reasons would be, I settled on shutting up and working quietly for the day’s work.

  *****

  “Aren’t you coming home yet, Hunt?”

  I was left alone in the office to work overtime with James’s errands when I heard a voice behind my back. I faced the man that spoke to confirm who he was.

  The editor-in-chief was carrying his suitcase and his fedora hat was on top of his head. He was ready to go but he noticed that I was still around, so he decided to check up on the pub’s newly transferred staff.

  “I needed to finish some tasks, Sir.” I tapped the front of the folder which was marked in red ink with the word Urgent. He nodded curtly, his eyes staring blankly at my computer’s screen.

  “Well then, I better get going. Don’t forget to tell the guards to lock up everything before you go.” When he was to turn his back on me, my head had a sudden prompt thought of telling him about the clues I had been receiving. It had been bothering me for days, but the anonymous source lost contact with me. There was something big and perilous about the messages he wanted me to know, but I could not decode them all by myself.

  “Sir.”

  He faced me with the same, bored expression he always wore on his face. “What is it, Hunt?”

  “I-uh.”

  I could hear his shoes tapping the floor, suggesting how bored he was. “I have no time for any prattle, Hunt. Say it straight up or never.”

  I pondered with the words he said as if they were complex sequences of codes I could not comprehend. “Take care, Sir.”

  He smiled at me before he left the pub’s entrance. “You too, Hunt.”

  *****

  The rest of the time I spent in the office alone was disastrous. My mind was nowhere out of the scope of focus, pondering along the realms of mystery and problems. I could still imagine the sketch of that eerie, ancient man I could not recognize. I tried asking Kirsten through the phone about the photo, but she was clueless as I was with who it was.

  I accomplished the rest of my deadlines today longer than I expected. When I was to leave the pub, the guard was already snoozing on his post. I had to ruin his nap before I could leave my workplace’s premises.

  As I exited the pub, I realized how late it was. The skies were darker tonight, the stars fewer than that of the previous nights. The cool breeze of the night was more than normal. I rubbed my arms in the hopes of warming myself against the cold temperature.

  I walked towards my car and drove back to my house. The streets were pretty empty since it was getting late. The only thing I wanted to do right now was to reach home and relax from all the stress today.

  Just when I was to enter my lot, I noticed a man standing in front of my front door. He was wearing a black ensemble of pants and shirt, and a dark colored cap to cover his eyes. I knew almost everyone in the town of Kingsville, but this one’s another stranger to me.

  I got a bad feeling about this man. I could not enter my house without coming across him. Even though I decided to find other means of coming inside, I would not be happy to stay in my house with someone suspicious waiting outside my door. I felt my heart beating faster as I watched him in silence, hoping that he would leave as soon as possible.

  As I looked at his minimal actions, I spotted him turning around as if he was alarmed by something. In a few more seconds, I could see him facing towards the direction of my car. Observing the person inside of the vehicle parked near his stead, I could feel my heart jumping out of my chest.

  I did not think twice. With the adrenaline flowing through my whole body, I stepped on the gas and drove as fast as I could away from my lot. I was not exactly crying but tears were flowing on my cheeks. My eyes were darted on the road, frightened by the sight waiting for me once I looked on the rear or side mirrors of my car.

  In a few more minutes, I was panting hard in front of Kirsten’s house. I was banging her door arduously, eager to seek shelter and companionship against the darkness of the night. She came after a few knocks, her face agitated but as soon as she saw my pallor, her anger melted away.

  “What’s happening, Peyton?”

  “Please Kirsten, let me stay over tonight. I’m begging you.”

  *****

  The terror of last night still made me frantic. Kirsten had insisted for me to stay until today, but I felt that it was already safe to return back home since it was broad daylight. I could not bother her too long, I knew she had a lot of things to attend to other than a crazy friend with a horrible fear of coming back to her house.

  I was driving back home again with loud thuds banging against my chest. Sleeping at her place had not allowed me to relax as well, and I stayed up all night thinking of the things that had happened in the past days. The mystery of the clues, the suspicious man standing in front of my house, the anonymous source sending me eerie stuff, and even my dilemma with Jorge. Everything had joined forces as they crashed and burnt, successfully ruining my head with all the outcomes related to their occurrences.

  As I neared my destination, I had adapted the instant reaction of slowing down to check my environment. There seemed to be no problem around the lot, and the man that stood on my doorstep last night was already gone.

  This was a good sign, although I could not be too reluctant about what I could observe on the surface. As I parked my car near the pavement, I walked carefully towards my house. Everything seemed fine, and the doors and windows were intact and untouched.

  However, there was an addition to what I left before I went to work yesterday. There was a box wrapped in the similar colors of black and red as that of the others I had received in the past. This one was relatively smaller than the first two and there was a note attached to it.

  I was unsure whether to take the present and open it. This was what I had waited for, but now that it came, I did not want it anymore.

  Still, my curiosity and aspiration to know everything about the mystery prospered. I picked it up and took the note. As I opened the card, there was a message written in beautiful calligraphy.

  I’ve waited all night but you never came. Anyway, here is a little present I got for you.

  So, that was the anonymous source. I tried to recall his face, but all I could remember was his getup and silhouette. I clutched the note as I opened the box to see what he got for me. There was a small piece of news clippings similar to the circumstances that had happened with the other unexplainable murder cases.

  I picked the paper and realized that it had the size that would fit the missing piece of the sketch. I felt my gut tightened, beads of swea
t forming on my forehead. After I took a deep breath, I flipped the piece of paper to reveal the secret behind the portrait.

  “Wha—“

  My heart suddenly stopped beating. Everything on my grip dropped on the floor. I felt nauseous and weak as if my body organs started rumbling in delirium.

  The face of Jorge sketched in precise strokes was behind the paper.

  Chapter 15: Jorge Savage

  Father’s words had never failed to lighten up my obscure, disarrayed thoughts. I had been the worst decision maker in this universe, but through his sagacious insights, I had been salvaged from the path of disappointment.

  He made it clear that I had been doing the wrong thing all this time. I knew there was some merit to my sudden distant behavior, but he testified how the consequences of my actions would lead to further regrets. This was a terrible idea, and I somehow felt that it was but I kept going with it.

  Peyton had always been a special person, a woman of so much wit and talent. Her bubbly and striking beauty was truly a standout. How I wished to witness her loud chuckles and big smiles during the lazy afternoon sun. Her eyes were all that I want to stare on during the depths of the night.

  Letting her go to vanish in my life was the hugest mistake I ever did in my life.

  “Aren’t you going to join me for breakfast, son?”

  My father’s voice cleared the cloud of memories confusing and amusing me all at once. I cupped my chin and looked at the vast horizons outside my window. How magnificent it was to think that the sun managed to change the view swimming over my eyes. The darkness that shrouded the entire forest evaporated and transformed into renewed rays of hope that a new, beautiful day would eventually come.

  “I’ll follow soon, father. I just want to enjoy this breathtaking view some more.” My eyes were gliding their sight on the green, rich trees that shaded the natural habitat of the living. The birds were chirping their melodic tunes, serenading the world with their merry songs. The coolness of the early morning breeze ironically made me feel warm as if my body felt like a home to a passionate soul.