Chapter 1
The Girl on the Porch
It was said that those who passed away with unfulfilled desires or with a life cut unexpectedly short were cursed to walk the Earth as ghosts, up until the last wish reached fulfilment. But sometimes, those wishes were never fulfilled, and their eternity would be spent as helpless, mute spectators in a rapidly changing present. Ghosts were silent beings. They couldnât speak, cry, laugh, or even touch for the sake of touching. Lacking emotion and expression, they walked and wandered with their burdens. But exceptions held true. Meeting those to which they were connected to while living, would bring those emotions forth. Maybe even bring a route to make their wishes come true.
In short, ghosts did, in fact, exist. And why couldnât they, especially if vampires also existed? There was an entire world of supernatural creatures that normally went unnoticed to the human eye.
Far from the city center of Dehradun, in a part of the forest where no human would dare to wander, stood a small, cherry-wooded cabin. Abhay wouldnât necessarily call it home, but for the past decade, he had no recollection of what his life had been before this. For now, this was his home. And never had he seen a ghost in this period either.
He returned to the cabin after a plentiful hunt, in the essence of a deadly, bloodthirsty vampire. No human to hide his true self from. A sense of freedom, though in a cage himself. The irony was amusing to him sometimes.
Her steps chimed like wind-touched bells. A sweet sound that blessed his silence filled ears.
Who are you?
He knew she was one of the dead. It was easy to tell them apart from anything else. No scent, pale skin, and a chill that even he could perceive at the widest distance away.
This one was standing upon the topmost step to his porch, rocking her heels up and down like a child. Barefoot, in a white dress that touched her knees. He tried to focus his gaze, to see what made her like this. Ghosts always carried their path to death upon their bodies. Wounds, scars, marks, anything. From her backside, it wasnât visible.
His feet shuffled without his consent, crushing the dry, colored leaves into the soil. A strange pain stung his heart.
The girl turned around, on cue with his sound. Blending in with the shadows, he looked at her more carefully. Emotionless as he expected, wearing a gruesome wound on her neck that inked the color of blood to her skin. It seemed to him that she met her end prematurely, and in a terrible manner. Throat torn out from the side. Her hair curled and bounced at the ends, and only her cheeks were as pink as a living human. The wind blew those locks back, but she gathered them quickly and used them to cover the wound from sight.
He stood absolutely quiet, a part of the dark. Soon she turned back, and took the final step up to his doorstep. She looked like a bird lost from its nest, gazing into windows. With her body, or lack thereof, she could have phased through the walls easily, but she was polite.
Is she looking for someone?
A single red spider lily was tucked into her hair. The flower of death. Some legends concerning the flower foretold, that when one sees someone that they may never meet again, these flowers would bloom along the path. They also acted as guides to another life, a rebirth. Whoever she was, and whoever she was looking for, one of them didnât have much time left.
Such an ominous and fleeting symbol. It somehow enhanced her beauty. A being radiating innocence and naĂŻvetĂŠ.
He, on the other hand, showed up like a murderous beast. He stared at his fingers, then reflection in a small pool of water beside his feet. Blood stained his teeth, lips and chin, nails broken and bloodied. A violent hunt, by a violent hunter. The contrast was jarring.
Unwillingly, he made another sound, but was fast enough to duck behind the cover of a tree. Not fast enough for her though. The flutter of his coat didnât evade her eyes. She knew he was there. The way she ran forth and looked, it seemed like she knew him. That once emotionless visage, gave birth to the clearest of emotions. But Abhay still wouldnât show his face, and persisted in remaining hidden. Dejected, the beautiful ghost went back to the porch, and continued to gaze into windows, hands pressed against the glass. She traced something into the condensation on the glass, and then hastily wiped it clean with her hand.
The realization dawned upon him, that she was looking for him and him only. Instead of clarity, it only sought to confused him even more.
But how did she find me? And why?
Another step, now voluntary, towards the moonlight. This time, he made no sound. He was afraid she would run off, after seeing his ghastly face and figure. Yet his heart kept reassuring that she would stay, like it remembered her well.
She turned back, and the softest smile adorned her lips, when their eyes first met. Something inside him felt whole again. A missing fragment that was now found.
He didnât know what this feeling was, or why it was. He had been here for ten years. All alone, but he knew there was a family waiting for him outside. Outside the barrier that caged him in. This was a solitary prison, a punishment for a rule he broke. Killing a human. Thatâs all the old letter told him.
With a memory wiped clean, only retaining his own name, he wandered in his acre wide enclosure for days and nights on end, hunting any animals that he could get his hands on. On his doorstep, in a dusty old, ice chest, blood bags would just reappear once a week. Rehabilitation, the elders had said, to drive away the desire for fresh human blood.
The chimes of her steps got louder.
The ghost ran up to him, so lovingly faring her hands over his cheeks. He stared quietly, as he couldnât couldnât feel hands, only chills. The myriad of emotions in her eyes were too complex for him to comprehend. He was unresponsive. Her eyes and lips trembled as if she were to cry, but given her form, couldnât do so.
âWho are you?â He asked, tone naturally gentle. His fangs retracted, to hopefully make his appearance less scary. Her smile faltered, and she let her arms fall to her sides. Her eyes tore away from him out of sorrow. âIâm sorry. I know you canât speak.â
He couldnât help but stare the wounds on her neck. Gouged out and bloody, but stagnated in time. She died like this, and it looked like something a vampire could do. One possibility.
Why canât I remember?
From his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and tried his best to wipe his face clean. How she wasnât afraid of him was mind-boggling. This was the worst a vampire could look, and if a vampire caused truly her death, then she shouldâve been more afraid.
What a strange girlâŚ., he thought.
His head hurt when pressing it for any sort of detail. But his heart so desperately wanted to remember her. Meanwhile, she took his hand, and caressed the back of his palm gently. The chills were somewhat comforting.
âDid you come here to see me?â
She fervently nodded, and pressed his hand to her cheek. Again, he could feel nothing, but he wished he could. It felt less lonely.
He stared at the cabin behind them. Not knowing what else to say, he made his way inside. The girl followed happily, her pinky wrapped around his, taut.
The cabin was just as lackluster inside as it was outside. Each day of his passed in thought, in one of a few novels gathering dust on the bookshelf, or in hunting. Lifeless, and repetitive. This girl was an anomaly to his routine. A welcomed anomaly. The cabin did had space for two, but only one was currently living there. She followed him around like a lost puppy, still keeping their pinkies entwined.
âIâm not quite the company youâre looking for.â He said, heart heavy. He didnât want to her leave, exactly, but this place wasnât suitable for her. The girl shook her head, and continued to follow. Though, the interiors of this cabin didn't seem to make her happy. Nor did the emptiness of the bookshelf. Nor did Abhayâs distant behavior. A flood of worry filled her eyes. She wasnât happy to see him like this, and he could tell.
âIâm used to it. Donât worry.â
The red spider lily in her hair began to shed at their feet, but the petals grew back just as quickly. Only Abhay seemed to notice it. He stared at the withering petals for a moment, then at his hands. He needed to clean up. Only under the steamy shower did he realize how much blood he drank tonight. His skin was stained heavily with it. Water turned red, and with it he wondered how she was able to smile while seeing him like that. Did she miss him that much? He felt like it was a crime to not remember her then.
At least she didnât follow me in here.
As a vampire, he could stay in the water as long as he wanted without his skin getting all wrinkly. He needed time to process this change. Her arrival. The clock struck at midnight with chimes similar to the sounds of her steps, as he exited the bathroom. It felt empty again.
âAre you there?â He called, looking to and fro.
Was it always this dark in here?
No sign of the ghost. He searched the rooms, and felt a heaviness settle in his heart again. Like something was taken away forcibly from him. The door swung open with the wind, rattling against the frame, and at his feet, the petals of the red spider lily created a trail for him to follow.
A pathâŚ..
This path of red petals took him out the farthest he could go. The boundary was just in sight, a barrier of light that resembled the Aurora Borealis in colors. The trail of petals continued, leading his steps to find an unmarked grave just outside of this impenetrable cage. Just out of his reach. No name, no date, nothing to identify. The letters eroded with the stone and years, and he couldnât get close enough to read.
âYouâll come back, right?â He murmured, not knowing why tears fell from his eyes.
Edited by simply.meghana - 3 years ago
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