An American-Romanian Vampire
Thud, for over an hour, thud, it had kept on going, thud, impossible to sleep, thud, time to investigate, thud.
Andrew climbed out of bed; he hated his neighbour, inconsiderate prick, it was after midnight. He would probably have to get the landlord; the prick had likely gone out and left something on. Andrew couldn’t hear the noise from the other parts of his apartment, the noise must be coming from a room adjacent to his bedroom, prick.
Grabbing his keys from the table, Andrew went out into the corridor, leaving the door to shut behind him. He walked over to his neighbour’s door and saw it was slightly ajar, the latch must have caught as it closed. Andrew knocked vigorously, if the prick was in, Andrew wanted to make sure he heard and that he knew Andrew was angry.
Andrew listened for movement; he couldn’t hear any, though he could hear the faint rhythmic thud. He knocked again, still nothing, well he wasn’t about to sleep on the couch because the prick had left something on and gone out.
Pushing the door it opened into the prick’s lounge room, looking in from the brightness of the hallway Andrew had difficulty making out details. Andrew crossed the threshold and let the door close behind him; Andrew’ eyes took a moment to adjust, streetlights giving the room a dull grey light. A light further in the apartment gave a couple of long shadows, though had little effect on the brightness of the lounge room.
The thud continued, though Andrew could only just hear it, it must be on our shared wall, thought Andrew. He decided to head in quickly, stop the noise and go back to bed. Walking around the corner into the hall Andrew could see the light was coming from the same room as the noise.
Thud, the noise was louder here. Thud, Andrew could hear it clearly. Thud, what was making the sound? Thud, Andrew had no idea. Thud, Andrew’ steps fell in time; thud, as he moved down the hall. Thud, Andrew turned into the room. Thud, it was much brighter here. Thud, a moment to adjust; thud, then Andrew could see the prick. Thud, time seemed to slow as Andrew took in the scene, prick cross-legged on the floor, next to the wall, pulling back from the red stain that was on it, an ancient man in a rocking chair also moving backwards. As the skeleton of a man rocked forward in the chair the prick also rocked forward, head meeting the wall, thud. The withered old man stood in one fluid motion, his body like an emancipated corpse, his movements like a twenty year old dancer.
“How nice of you to join us,” he said.
The prick had stopped, head still on the wall, blood running down both his face and the white wallpaper, it reminded Andrew of strawberries and cream.
“Please, have a seat,” the man continued, motioning to the edge of the bed, Andrew looked at him quizzically.
“Sit down,” the command in the man’s voice was unmistakeable, Andrew felt a compulsion, chose to fight it. It was the man’s turn for a quizzical look.
I never got around to finishing this story but this is what the adventure was based on.