Neckbeard Vampire: Nightbeard Rising

by David Morgan

“There!” Randall pointed to Paxton’s front door as it opened and Paxton emerged.

  “Duck! Don’t look!” He said in a whisper-shout, while ducking his head down between his legs. Johnathan threw himself down on the back seat below the window line, and Chad reclined his chair as far back as it would go—watching the rear-view mirrors carefully.

  He watched Paxton walk in and out of the house through the mirrors’ reflection. His hands were full carrying boxes ranging in various sizes until his trunk was fully loaded. They watched him get in the car, pull out of the driveway, and disappear down the street.

  “Let’s go.” Chad said, after waiting for five minutes.

  “OK, someone needs to have his head on straight.” Johnathan whispered, climbing out of the car.

  “How are we even going to get in?” Randall asked to Chad as they walked up the driveway.

  “Uhh…wouldn’t it make more sense to go in the back door?” Johnathan asked.

  “No one suspects you if you go up to the front door. Going through the back looks suspicious if a neighbor happens to see.” Chad answered casually, as though having done this a hundred times before.

  He gave the door handle a jiggle, verifying that it was locked.

  Johnathan spoke up, “Well I’m glad you thought this through—guess we can go home now,” he declared ironically.

  “Shut up.” Chad turned to the garden and looked carefully into the garden next to the porch. “If Paxton’s parents are anything like Paxton….there!” He pointed to a rock and jumped off the porch into the mulch.

  Chad picked up a large rock, turning it over in his hand and brandishing the bottom to his friends: “Hide-a-key” he said, smiling. “I’ve known Paxton for way too long,” he announced with pride.

  They’d all been to Paxton’s house in the past, and so they had no trouble navigating their way to his room—which happened to be a part of the finished basement. They walked through the kitchen to the door that led downstairs.

  “Wait.” Johnathan spoke up as they reached for the handle, his voice shaking, “What if she’s down there? Do we really know what we’re getting into?”

  “What’s a matter, John? Afraid we might run into a vampire?” Randall smiled back at him.

  “Well…suppose you guys are right.” John said, “Suppose she is a vampire? What are we gonna do?”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Chad said, slowly turning the handle and pulling the door open.

  They started down the stairs, feeling each step carefully to avoid unnecessary creaking or noises. When they reached the bottom, Randall walked over to the wall and, with a fling of his arms, threw the curtains to each side—letting beams of sunlight break into the room.

  “There.” He said. “Now we’re prepared in case she is actually a vampire. At least we’ve got the upper hand.” Then he added, “So now that we’re here—what are we looking for?”

  “I don’t know.” Chad said. “Something suspicious?”

  With the sunlight illuminating even the distant corners of the basement, they felt secure that the place was empty. Wherever she was, it wasn’t there. But still: they continued their search all the same.

  They opened closets and lifted the mattress. They checked under the bed and pulled open the drawers.

  “A fleshlight.” Johnathan announced, holding up a large cylindrical piece of plastic.

  “Good, we’ll use it to check out the crawl space.” Chad responded.

  “No—it’s a flesh light,” Johnny re-articulated, laughing. “I’ll bet there’s some good porn down here as well. I wonder what kind of stuff Paxton’s into?”

  The question was answered almost immediately as Chad lifted a finger, directing John’s attention to walls lined with images of Japanese nurses and anime girls in compromising positions. Short skirts, frilly white panties, and sometimes just blatant anime vaj decorated the room.

  “Anything?” Chad asked the others.

  “Only porn, action figures, and trinkets.” Johnathan said. “He may be working with a vampire, but at least we know he’s not gay.” Then added. “Or a furry.”

  “Same here.” Randall said, pointing to an island of Mountain Dew bottles surrounding the computer desk.

  The others nodded in silent agreement, still scouring the place for some evidence of her presence.

  Then Chad looked to a door in the backroom. “I guess we have only the crawl space left to check out.”

  “Challenge accepted.” Randall answered.

  “I don’t want to go in.” Johnathan said.

  “Don’t. Stay here—watch and listen for someone coming.” Chad instructed him.

  John nodded.

  “In fact,” Chad added, “Randall—you stay with him. I’ll go in alone.”

  Chad walked to the door, grabbing the door handle and turning it slowly, pulling the door ajar and then slowly releasing the handle so as to silence the clicking of the mechanism.

  He walked into the room; a thin beam of sunlight fell through a narrow window near the entrance, illuminating just enough to show the wooden frames of unfinished walls covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The room was long, with the door and window at one end, and the opposite wall disappearing into pitch black at the other.

  He took a few steps towards the darkness, which gradually dissolved into the shadowy forms of old furniture and stacked boxes as his vision adapted.

  He gasped, stopping in his tracks as the tip of his toe came in contact with a long, flat wooden box lying horizontally on the ground. The box was aged and made of wooden planks, resembling an aged coffin, but was only the length of a small child.

  Chad swallowed hard, trying to moisten his dried mouth. His heart pounded in his ears as he reached out for the edge, feeling for a handle or a latch.

  As the moment of truth awaited him, he yearned for an excuse to be able to turn around…to go home and forget everything.

  But he didn’t. He reached out his hand and, finding a crack in the lid, wedged his fingers in and lifted. The sight that met his eyes caused the blood to drain from his face. He might have expected anything but this.

  The inside of the box was lined from head to foot with anime posters and pages ripped from comic books. Elaborate drawings—some dripping with violence and blood, others with salacious images of animated sex, and others covered with extravagant fantasy-pictures of steampunk robots and watch gears. Captions of Japanese screamed from every speech box of every page.

  Lying on a bed of fully intact Manga books laid something that he could never have prepared himself for. The neatly woven fabric, the tightly sewn corners…Chad wanted to turn away in disgust at the thought of his friend being plagued by this…fetish.

  It was the most pathetic of all sex toys. A body pillow about three to four feet in length, bearing the image of a beautiful anime girl with waist-length black hair streaked with lines of white, which reminded Chad of shooting stars in a night sky.

  Her closed eyelids gave her the grace of a sleeping beauty, lying at peace in the safe darkness of her cocoon, resting under the watchful eyes of Japanese Manga.

  Chad examined the pillow and his gaze fell upon her supple, cotton face. A sudden and strange urge came over him: he wanted to kiss the image of the girl on the pillow. But more accurately—he wanted the girl to kiss him.

  He longed for the touch of those robust red lips, the feeling of the warm, fair skin pressed against his own. He dreamed of getting lost in her hair, breathing in her breath and syncing his heartbeat with her own.

  And then her eyes opened.

  Chad jumped. The pillow was alive. Then he recognized it. He recognized her. “Dasha?” He asked silently.

  “Hello Chadwick,” that same soft, shadowy voice penetrated the shadows as she smiled at him gently. The voice was sweet like honey, but something about it also seemed bitter like wormwood. He backed away from the thing, letting the wooden lid fall with a crash.

 
; He turned around and started to the exit, quickening his pace, but something large and solid blocked his path, knocking him backwards.

  “Hello Chad.” The voice said again. But this time it wasn’t her.

  Paxton stood in the doorway, his eyes glowing with anger and hatred.

  “What are you doing here?” He asked in an icy, emotionless voice.