Abandoned, 1936


The scene was disturbing.

After my ineffectual questioning of Professor Lawson, I’d asked – none too gently – some of his students and peers the same question.

None had an answer for me.

Lawson, it seemed, had acted alone.

This bit of information didn’t surprise me. The faculty of Miskatonic was perfectly capable of acting stupidly all on their own, without the assistance of any of their colleagues.

With no more knowledge at my disposal, I rode to the southern outskirts again. I picked up where I had left off, at Seneca’s now abandoned farm, and made my way westward.

I soon found a rundown house that, by all appearances, had recently been home to squatters.

The backdoor was wide open, and the emptiness within raised the gooseflesh on my arms.

To the naked eye, it seemed as though the people living there had stepped out, and they would be back in a moment, maybe two.

This wasn’t the case.

In the kitchen, I found three pies sitting on a stove that had seen better days. Other odds and ends were piled upon it, and there was the detritus of life strewn about. I found a hatchet on the stove and a wide array of other items.

Someone had been squatting in the place, and the belongings I found had evidently been hauled with them from wherever the owner had hailed from.

And if you carry a hatchet for a few hundred miles, you don’t abandon it.

Nor do you leave your coat on a peg, nor your loaded pipe on the window frame.

There was no sign of a struggle. Nothing that might hint at what had occurred.

But I could read the scene well enough.

A man had settled here. Perhaps with his wife. Perhaps alone. The pies had been baked and set to cool. The pipe readied. It had been night, and there had been a knock at the door.

The door had been answered, and the vampire had come in.

I searched the building from top to bottom and came up empty-handed. There was no sign of a place to hide outside, so either the vampire had killed off the victim or tucked them away to feed upon at a later time, much like Seneca and Tyrant.

I left the home as it was, and I wanted to hope the owner of the pipe might return unharmed.

But I knew better.

#fear #horrorstories #paranormal

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

One thought on “Abandoned, 1936”

  1. Ooh, this is a great one! I was not expecting the vampire twist. At first, I was thinking this is a thriller detective story, predator and prey, (much like Sherlock Holmes), and then how gothic it turned. Loved reading this from start to finish.

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