The Reclusive One

Dear Diary,

Did you ever hear that the odd lady on the ground floor is actually a monster? Harry, as if nothing had happened, was munching on a chocolate bar. Ive always been amazed at his ability to keep chewing no matter whats going on around us. He was shovelling sweets during lessons, at break and after school. Once, during a maths quiz, he crunched a candy right in the middle of it and, of course, got a sharp reprimand from Miss Clarke.

I, Thomas, momentarily forgot about my own bar and stared at him.
What do you mean, a monster? I asked.
The real deal, he whispered. Shes got snakescale on her head instead of hair, and at night she eats children! Havent you heard boys vanish in the town?

Id only caught a fleeting report on the news about two tenyearold lads missing for weeks. But what nonsense was Harry spouting? Hes only in Year 6 and still believes fairytale rubbish! Still, his words stuck in my head all day. Back on my own floor (Harry lives on the ninth), I couldnt concentrate on my homework; the stranger occupied my thoughts.

She truly behaved oddly. She only left her groundfloor flat in the evenings or when it was raining, always cloaked in something dark with a hood pulled low over her face. No one knew her name, her age, or what she did. Her windows were always shut tight with heavy curtains. If anyone crossed the hallway, she would glide past, head bowed, never saying a word. Even the elderly residents called her the odd one and the recluse.

I once overheard two old ladies chatting:
I went to the shop with my bags, and as I turned back, that odd one stepped out of her flat. She pressed herself flat against the wall and only gave me a cold stare from under the hoodno greeting, no goodbye!
Right, shes a bit unhinged. Keeps to herself like a plagueshunned soul. Ive seen her at around eleven at night, slipping out like a shadow. Where does she go at night, I wonder? She just sits at home all day.
Cant do anything with hershes a recluse, thats all she is.

My morning was off to a terrible start. In History, the teacher called me to the board; I stammered something about Yaroslav the Wise, trying to look like I knew something. She saw through it and gave me a failing mark. How infuriating! I could have at least learned about a ruler who shares my best friends name

Then that nasty Barker cornered Harry at break, dubbing him Harry the Fat. His sidekicks, Tommy and Jerry, leapt on the insult, snatching the croissant Harry was about to enjoy and tossing it back and forth.

Give it back! I shouted, already knowing I was stepping into trouble. I couldnt abandon Harry; I always step up when hes bullied, which happens far too often.

Barker smirked, Look whos defending the chubby one!

In our class we were nicknamed the Heavy and the Thin. We sat together, walked to school together, and left together. Im a slight boy and look younger than my years, especially next to the plump Harry, who sometimes looks almost like a walking sofa.

I lunged for the croissant, nearly grabbing it, but landed awkwardly, knocking a globe off the teachers desk. It shattered with a crack, splitting in two. Just then, the geography teacher, Ms. Natalie, entered the room.

She didnt look too upset about the globe, but after class she called me over.
Thomas, stay a moment, she said. I approached the desk, avoiding her eyes. What are you doing, Thomas? Youre a sensible lad She paused dramatically, and I felt a wave of dread, as if I might be sent to the headmaster or have my mother called. Id already got into trouble at home for a low grade.

Luckily, Ms. Natalie said, I wont call your parents, but youll help me sort the textbooks after school.
Alright, Ms. Natalie, I sighed, glancing at my battered trainers.

It was a small mercy that my parents werent summoned, but my mood stayed sour. After school, Harry was whisked off to the doctor, so he couldnt stay for my punishment.

We all rushed to change rooms, and I, feeling a pang of envy, slipped into Ms. Natalies office. She made me carry books from the library and then tidy the classroom. Two hours later, I staggered out of an empty school into a damp, bruised twilight.

The rain was relentless, seeping under my hood. I trudged home, replaying the days events, feeling a sour weight in my chest. Why is life so unfair? I defended a friend, only to get the short end of the stick. No one punished Barker, even though he started it all. And that rain it reminded me of my cousins photos of snowcovered streets that looked like a storybook, while here everything was soggy and bleak.

Lost in these thoughts, I didnt notice that Id taken the usual route through the park with Harry. Normally we walk together in daylight, but tonight I was alone, like a broken globe forgotten in an empty office.

I tried to lift my spirits, but the trees stretched their naked branches into the colourless sky, and the hedges on either side looked menacing. What if someone was lurking in those bushes, waiting for a victim?

Then I remembered the strange neighbour from the ground floor. What if she was out hunting, her eyes glowing like a cats in the darkness? The idea sent a shiver down my spine, and I quickened my step.

A cold wave of terror ran through menot from the wind or rain, but from something else. I turned and saw a dark figure in a hood following me.

I broke into a run, hearing a voice behind me:
Hey, lad, stop!

It was a mans voice, deep and unsettling. I knew I shouldnt talk to strangers, especially on a deserted path. My backpack, heavy as a stone, pulled me back, the weight of my textbooks pressing against my shoulders.

Footsteps grew louder. The stranger kept pace, gravel crunching under his boots. A heavy breath came up behind me. Suddenly, something yanked my backpack, almost sending me sprawling. Something clutched the strap.

I turned slowly and faced a man holding my bag. He smiled slyly.
Running away, are we? I just wanted a chat.

Fear stole my voice; I couldnt even gasp. I noticed his other hand was hidden behind his back. Was there a knife? A gun?

Around us, the park was empty, the streetlights still off, rain drumming on benches and dark lamps. I prayed for a passerby, a dogwalker, anyone, but there was none.

The mans eyes glittered like a predators. He pulled a grimy rag from behind his back and thrust it toward my face. The smell hit mesharp, like the windowcleaning fluid Mom uses. My head spun.

Just as I thought Id lose consciousness, a sudden rustle came from the bushes. A smaller, wiry figure in a hood sprang at the man, knocking him off balance. I stumbled back, my legs rooted to the ground as if the earth had swallowed them. Time stretched forever; it felt as though Id become a root, forever stuck in this rainsoaked park with barren trees and leafless hedges.

The smaller intruder was leaner, quicker, and after a brief scuffle he shoved the larger man to the ground. A guttural roar tore from the attacker, mingling with the wind, rattling my bones.

Then came a soundshrill, disgusted, something Id only heard when Granddad gnawed a date and made a rude noise.

Streetlights flickered on, casting a sickly yellow glow. The smaller figure leaned over the fallen man, his long dark hair spilling from the hood. It was a woman.

It had to be herthe neighbour from the ground floor. Id only seen her a few times: pale, thin, always hidden under that dark hood. Now her face was smeared with blood, two sharp fangs protruding from her mouth. She dabbed the blood with her sleeve as if wiping away cream, then turned her gaze toward me.

Her eyes flashed yellow like a cats pupils. In an instant she vanished back into the bushes, leaving the attackers lifeless body sprawled on the wet gravel, his throat awash in blood, a dark puddle spreading around him. The filthy rag lay abandoned, whitened by the rain, as useless as the corpse itd been used on.

Paralysed with horror, I finally fled the park, running faster than I ever had before. Within five minutes I was at my flat, pressed against the door, gasping for breath. Thankfully my parents werent home; explaining why Id bolted like that would have been a nightmare.

I decided to keep it all to myselfHarry, the school, the park, the vampire neighbour. It sounded mad, and I knew my parents would chalk it up to childish imagination, while Harry would scoff at the idea that a monster saved me. The truth was that the creature didnt eat children; she seemed to prefer grownups.

Perhaps vampires really do exist, but in this case the monster saved me from a human, not the other way round, as the movies would have it. No one would believe me. My parents would blame it on daydreams, and Harry would doubt that a vampire would spare me. I never understood why the vampire let me live.

Since that night Ive spent most of my free time glued to the telly, waiting for the news that might mention the body found in the park. Nothing came. Three days later the evening bulletin briefly noted that two missing boys had been discovered dead in a mans house, but omitted any detail about how the man died. Perhaps they didnt want to frighten the public with the notion of a bloodthirsty predator roaming the streets.

I realised the television would never give me answers, so I stopped watching. The memory faded, becoming a distant echo amidst schoolwork, upcoming holidays, and the bustle of December.

Winter finally arrived, snow blanketing the town. Harry and I were returning from chess club, and as we neared our block, the groundfloor neighbour slipped out of the entrance. Harry, lost in his own triumph about a winning move, didnt even notice her. Hes been on a health kick latelycutting sweets after the doctors advice, losing a few pounds, and Barkers stopped pestering him.

I halflistened to Harry, my eyes glued to the vampirelike figure. She gave me a fleeting glance from beneath her hood, then drifted away. The memory of her bloodstained face and fangs sent a chill down my spine, yet now she seemed just an old, pallid womanno glowing eyes, no visible fangs, only a thin, uneasy smile.

Ah, theres the recluse from the ground floor! Harry finally snapped out of his reverie.
Yes I murmured.
She actually looks friendly today, didnt even lower her head. Must be hungry! he chuckled.

I offered no reply, but before stepping into the hallway I turned once more, watching the dark silhouette melt into the sparkling white snowcovered pavement, as if dissolving into the very flakes.

—

Katherine left early this morning; snow was falling in thick curtains, masking the sun and any prying eyes. She can hide her fangs at any time, but the strange pallor and the yellowglint of her eyes would give her away. Like rain, snow muffles the scent of human blood. Though shes been on a strict diet of only the blood of the vilest scoundrels for decades, the constant presence of ordinary folk remains a torment.

She cant live far from bustling towns; only there can she find enough preykillers, rapists, pervertslike the boy she feasted on last month. Katherine identifies them by their sour, unmistakable odor, a scent rain or snow cant conceal.

Just outside her flat she once saw a boymestanding in the park. She smelled his fear before even noticing him. A month ago he didnt run; he saw everything, yet Katherine was sure hed keep quiet. The stench of terror and confusion clung to him.

Who would take a child’s tale of a vampire seriously? In every city theres a secret network that hides vampire victims bodies, and an ancient law that tells vampires to avoid ordinary folk, while humans ignore them. Its an uneasy truce.

A month later Katherine gave me a fleeting glance and hurried off, not wanting a childs scent to cloud her thoughts. Its hard for someone like her to exist among peoplealways alone, hidden in shadows, never noticed, never needed. Her name, meaning stranger in Greek, suited her perfectly. She chose tiny firstfloor flats so she could slip out without using lifts, yet she still attracted uneasy looks from neighbours, which she met with silence and a hidden face.

What else can she do? A vampire is a dubious friend, a strange companion. If people only knew what monsters she kept the town free of, they might find her more frightening than any vampire. Yet being misunderstood, unwanted, and forever an outsider is what shes grown used tojust another habit, like her nightly hunts.

A familiar gnawing feeling settled in my stomach. Hunger had been gnawing at Katherine for weeks, and the right scent was nowhere to be found.

Will today be any different?