In case you’re interested, here’s the story behind this story: “The Vampire of New Castle Corners,” about a 4-minute read, was unplanned but took off in April after I read another author’s piece of flash fiction, which included a detail that captivated me. As a result, I had to put aside my other two projects to write this. The moral is: you never know when inspiration will bite you in the neck!
My neighbor, Miss Eleanor, told me Count Rovinsky was a vampire.
She announced her suspicion while I was sitting by her kitchen fireside for a quick visit, hoping to be on my way before the start of the snowstorm.
I sensed it was going to be a bad one. The air crackled like ice, smelling wet and metallic, while not a bird or creature stirred. Without a doubt, the weather would cut us off from the road—for how long was anyone’s guess. I thought it best to look in on my neighbor, old Miss Eleanor, and confirm she was well. After all, we each lived alone in our little freeholds side-by-side. At a distance from the village of New Castle Corners, we had to look out for each other.
But when she made her pronouncement, I wished I hadn’t come. With a shake of my long skirts, I shifted, as if to get to my feet.
Miss Eleanor reached forward, pressing me back into the chair, her eyes bright with the unmistakable gleam of someone eager to share a juicy bit of gossip. “You’re wondering why I say that. Well, Mrs. Angus was here today!” Mrs. Angus, the grocer’s wife, always brought plenty of news from New Castle Corners when she paid one of her rare visits to Miss Eleanor. On this day, I guessed she had a lot to say about the newest resident in the village. “The railroads are to blame, and mark my words, Count Rovinsky is a blood-sucking—”
“Now, now. Don’t get carried away. Mrs. Angus can be…imaginative.”
The old woman shook her finger at me, letting her shabby shawl fall away from her shoulders. I couldn’t help noticing her bare neck. She must have felt the chill. While our faces were warm from the fire, our backs were turned toward the shadows, and cold could be so dangerous for an old woman. With a gentle clearing of my throat, I tried to interrupt her chattering to help her replace her wrap.
But she was talking a mile a minute, and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She said the Count never would have thought of coming here, except that the New York and Harlem Railroad built the New Castle Station last winter.
True, our once sleepy little hamlet had turned into a bustling hub of tourism and commerce, bringing hundreds of men and women from who-knew-where. Some moved on, but many settled down to farming or working at one of the big mills near Kirby’s Pond, but, as Miss Eleanor reminded me, not Count Rovinsky. He bought the best house in town and invited no one to tea but emerged every evening to parade up and down Main Street.
Miss Eleanor squinted at me, deepening the grooves of age around her eyes. “When he’s out walking, Mrs. Angus said he uses a stick topped by a silver skull with eyes the color of blood. He wears black boots and a black cloak no matter what the weather.”
I shrugged. His kind of dandy had never impressed me. My reaction only prompted Miss Eleanor’s voice to rise another notch. “Mrs. Angus said he never smiles. He’s afraid to show his teeth.”
“What?” An unexpected bubble of laughter tickled my throat, but I tamped it down, remaining attentive. “Why would he want to hide his teeth?”
“Because he’s a vampire. They have long, sharp teeth, ready to bite. Haven’t you been listening?” Miss Eleanor blinked at me with surprise. “His strange clothes, and how he only comes out when the sun goes down, and his odd name. Why, he’s a…foreigner,” she hissed.
“Have you forgotten?” I sat up straighter and made a polite cough behind my hand. “Aren’t I a foreigner, too? My family is originally from this area, but I only arrived a few months ago to help my cousin with her farm.”
“That’s not the same thing. Your roots are here.”
I dabbed my eyes with my linen handkerchief. “Dear me, then my dear cousin unexpectedly passed away. I miss her.” A log in the fireplace popped, sending a spray of sparks, tangy with resin, swirling between us.
“There, there, Martha. I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”
A gust of wind rattled the glass panes in the window, and my eyes flicked to the sound. The purple twilight had deepened to charcoal. “My, it’s late, and the wind has changed direction. I’ll need to hurry to get ahead of the storm.” I shuffled my feet.
Miss Eleanor waved me back into the chair. “One more thing. The sheriff should lock the Count up. As long as he’s allowed to roam free, you and I are in danger.”
“How?”
“We’re isolated here. Why, if he attacked one of us, no one would learn about it for days.”
There was sense to what she said, and I chimed in, “Or weeks, if this snowstorm is as bad as the barometer predicts.”
Miss Eleanor’s head bobbed up and down. “Exactly.” Her eyes stared at the fire blazing in the grate, as if she could find the answers to her questions there. She spoke in a dreamy voice. “Don’t you think it’s a coincidence that he arrived a few months ago, and the little Sawyer girl went missing? And old Farmer Keeley died not too much later?”
Again, I dabbed my eyes with my handkerchief. “All this talk about death.”
“When you get to my age, it will be on your mind, too.”
She might be old, but she was still vibrant. Her cheeks shone rosy pink in the firelight. I fought a sudden impulse to give her a kiss.
She grunted. “Who’s next I wonder?”
“Who indeed,” I sighed, and like an echo, the wind howled outside.
“You’d best go home, Martha, as quick as you can. Thank you for the visit. I’ll be fine.” She frowned. “Keep a sharp eye. The Count might be out on a night like this, seeking his prey.”
On my feet, I moved closer to her to bid my farewell, and said, “You’re right. Once the snow starts, everyone will stay indoors, which means a vampire needs to hunt beforehand. But you don’t have to worry about Count Rovinsky.”
“No?” She tipped her head back, peering up into my face.
I smiled, and the last thing I heard was her scream as I sank my long, sharp teeth into her neck. With the storm, who knew when I’d be able to feed again?
😮😮 You got me - great story!!