Fool, 1936

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I’m a fool.

My temper has gotten the better of me before, but those occasions are rare when compared to the number of times I have gone charging headlong after a dog.

It was no more than a pup, maybe ten old at most. Good black and white coloring, and the pup looked to be a mix between a spaniel and setter. The damned thing went racing into a rundown shack, and had I not seen the blood smeared on the pup’s back, I might not have worried about it ‘til later in the day.

As it was, I did see the blood, and so off I went as though I was a boy of ten again.

I called after it, ran into the shack, and just as I caught hold of the pup, I noticed a long, thin piece of twine tied ‘round its neck.

It was then the floor gave way beneath me.

I shielded the pup from the fall as we crashed into an old root cellar, and I bit through the twine before I set the pup down. I drew my Colts, and the vampires came out.

There were three of them. Tall men, each and every one. Hunger blazed in their eyes, and they grinned at me with sharp teeth and clear disdain.

I didn’t know who they were, and it wouldn’t have mattered if I had.

I was easy prey as far as they were concerned, and I wondered if they had laid their trap for me or if someone else had laid it for them.

“He don’t look as strong as she said.”

“T’aint no Yankee as big and fearsome as they think.”

“Yon guns won’t do a damn‘d agin’ us, boy,” and the three dead men laughed.

I cocked both Colts and pulled the triggers.

The thunder of the guns was deafening in the confines of the cellar, and the vampires staggered back as holes opened in their chests. They clamped their hands over ears grown sensitive, and I shot them through their screaming mouths.

I confess I don’t remember much of what happened.

I didn’t like the idea that they’d used the pup as bait.

Evidently, there was an ax in the cellar because when I came to my senses, I was sitting on a pile of limbs and looking at three severed heads. The pup was in my arms and licking my face, tail wagging.

The pup was male, and I found that out when he pissed down the front of my shirt.

#fear #horrorstories #paranormal

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

One thought on “Fool, 1936”

  1. Forgive me, but an incongruity has jumped out at me. When we first see the vampires it clearly states there are four of them, yet every time after they are counted the number given is three. Is this a simple error, or is it a hint hat Duncan’s fugue state is the result of some mental intrusion?

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