NocturnalWanderers.com.
13 High Street South. That was definitely the address that she had
given her. The message clearly said; ‘Meet
me at 13 High Street South, 6:30pm, and don’t be late.’ This was the place, but she was not here, nor
was anything else. No. 13, was just the
site of what used to be a bungalow. It
had been burnt out years ago, and all of the windows and doors were still
boarded up. Laura looked at her watch,
it was still only 6:15. Maybe she hadn’t
arrived yet.
When she first signed up to NocturnalWanderers.com, Laura
had only wanted to make new friends.
What she had found, was a group of people, pretending to be members of
the undead. At first she was unsure of
the site, but curiosity kept her going back to it. She soon found herself being drawn in to the
fantasy. She had even made friends with
a girl named Mia Dulaarc. They had been
talking online for almost a month, and then one day, she asked her if she would
like to join her crypt. Even though she
knew it was wrong, she was not able to stop herself from coming here. There was a part of her, that desperately
wanted to find a place where she could belong.
Now that she was actually here, it no longer seemed like such a good
idea.
Mia had seen the girl arrive, and watched from the
shadows as she waited patiently outside.
Many girls had decided not to stick around after seeing the burnt out
house. Every so often, one of them did,
just like this one was. They were so
desperately lonely, and wanted so much to be a part of something, anything,
that they were willing to take the risk.
These were the girls that she wanted for her little family. The hopeless loners with nowhere else to go.
As soon as the clock struck 6:30 she made her move. The girl did not move, as she stepped out of
the shadows behind her.
“You must be Laura.” She said.
“Welcome home.”
At first Laura was unsure of
the woman that was suddenly standing there in front of her. She was dressed all in black and her face was
pale, but at least it was a friendly one.
The side door of the house was now open, and she could feel the heat
that was coming from within. It was a
cold evening, and so she decided to go inside.
The inside of the house was not at all how she expected
it to look. Someone must have
redecorated at some point. It certainly
didn’t look as though there had been a fire in there. The walls had all been painted red, apart from
one, that had been painted with a strange mural that gave her the creeps. It was a large, wall sized painting that
depicted women with stakes through their hearts, being burnt on top of large
bonfires, before being decapitated by soldiers with long, silver swords.
There appeared to be just this one big room. On the wall opposite the one with the strange
painting, there was a fire. It was
giving out a warm, welcoming heat, and she felt herself being drawn towards
it. The rest of the room was empty, apart
from the large sofas, arranged in a u-shape around the fire. The room was lit by one giant chandelier,
which she noticed used candles instead of light bulbs. There did not appear to be any signs of
electricity anywhere. Someone had gone
to a lot of trouble, to make this place look as authentic as they possibly
could.
As she sat warming herself by the fire, Laura suddenly
realised that she was alone. The woman
who had greeted her, was gone. Her heart
was racing, as she looked for the exit door, and then found it locked. She was trapped. Panic set in as she remembered her phone,
that was sitting on the kitchen table.
She was starting to wish that she’d told someone where she was
going. No one knew that she was here.
Not knowing what else to do, she sat by the fire and
waited. An eternity seemed to pass,
before she heard a sound coming from behind her. Laura turned to see a doorway suddenly
appear, in the middle of the mural. The
mysterious lady appeared from within, followed by six girls of about her
age. They looked pale, and walked slowly
with their heads bowed down. None of
them looked at her, as they made their way to the front of the room. They sat in a circle in front of the
fire. The Lady gestures to Laura that
she should join them. The fire was warm
on her back, but she felt cold. A couple
of the girls looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t work out where she knew
them from. There was only silence, as
they sat and waited.
The Lady placed a large, silver cup in the centre of the
circle, and each of the girls held out one of her hands. Then she took out a silver dagger, and cut
them across their palms until the blood flowed out. The girls then held their hands over the cup,
and it started to fill with their blood.
Laura watched in horror, until The Lady turned to her, and asked her to
hold out her hand. The other girls were
now looking at her, and the blank expressions in their eyes, seemed to tell her
that she had no choice.
Reluctantly, Laura held out her hand. At first, she felt no pain, but as the blood
started to flow, it stung like crazy.
She could feel the tears burning the back of her eyes, as she let her
blood drip into the cup. Her head started
to spin as she felt herself grow weak.
The blood just kept on dripping from her hand, until finally, it started
to congeal, and she was allowed to take her hand away.
The Lady picked up the silver cup, and studied its
contents with a strange, glazed look in her eyes. The girls sat silent and motionless, as she
carefully poured the blood into what appeared to be a jam jar. Then she went off through a door that Laura
had not noticed before, and returned a few seconds later empty-handed.
“A fine harvest this evening ladies. The new member of our family, has made quite
the addition to our bounty. Arise now,
and return to your lair.”
The girls stood up, and Laura
followed them as they went back through the door from which they came. She followed them down a narrow stairway, and
into what appeared to be a cellar. There
were several large mattresses lying in the corner, and the large table in the
middle, was covered in bowls of fruit and bread. Each of the girls picked at the food, before
lying down to rest.
Laura looked around the room, and knew that she had made
a big mistake. She was trapped here, and
before long, she would become like the rest of them. Her blood would be drained little by little,
night after night, until she no longer had the strength to carry on.
Mia Dulaarc studied the jars of blood that filled the tiny
fridge. She opened two of them, and
poured the contents into the steaming hot water, that filled her red-stained
tub. As she lay back in the water, she
looked up at the picture of Elizabeth Bathory that was hanging on the wall, and
she smiled to herself, as she made plans for reeling in her next victim.
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