The Reclusive One: A Tale of Solitude and Secrets

You know that odd woman on the groundfloor is actually a monster, dont you? Harry said, popping a chocolate bar as if nothing had happened. Id always been amazed that he could keep chewing whatever was on his hands, no matter what was going on around us. He munched sweets in class, at breaks and after school. Once, he crunched a candy right in the middle of a maths test and, of course, the maths teacher gave him a good scolding.

I dropped my own chocolate and stared at him.
What monster are you talking about? I asked.
The real deal! She has snakescale instead of hair on her head, and at night she eats children. Havent you heard the boys disappearing around town?

Id only caught a snippet on the news about two tenyearolds whod been missing for weeks, but I thought Harry was spouting nonsense. He was only in Year 6 and still believed in fairy tales.

But Harrys ramble stuck in my head all day. When I got to my flat on the seventh floor Harry lived on the ninth I couldnt focus on my homework; the neighbour kept popping up in my thoughts.

She behaved oddly. She only left her groundfloor flat in the evening or when it was raining, always cloaked in a dark hoodie that hid her face. No one knew her name, age or what she did for a living; her windows were forever shut with heavy curtains. Whenever someone crossed the hallway, she would glide past with her head down, never saying a word.

Even the elderly residents in the hallway knew nothing about her, referring to her between themselves as the looney or the recluse. I once overheard a chat between two old ladies:

I was returning from the shop with heavy bags when that loony stepped out of her flat. She pressed herself to the wall and only gave me a sideways glance from under her hood. No hello, no goodbye!

Shes a proper nut. Seems to shun people like the plague. Ive seen her at about eleven at night, slipping out of the stairwell like a shadow. Where does she go after dark? She just sits at home all day.

What can you do? Shes a recluse thats what she is!

The day went pearshaped from the start. In history class the teacher called me to the board, and I muttered something about King Yaroslav the Wise, trying to look like I knew a thing or two. She saw through my act and handed me a failing mark. It stung, especially since the rulers name matched my best mates.

During break, the bully Clarke latched onto Harry, calling him Fat Harry. His cronies Tom and George laughed, snatched the croissant Harry was about to eat and started tossing it back and forth.

Give it back! I shouted, already knowing I was walking into a trap. I couldnt stand by while Harry was being hassled; Id always defended him, and that happened a lot.

Clarke turned his grin into a sneer. Look at the skinny one standing up for the fat one!

In our class we were nicknamed Thin and Thick. We shared a desk, walked to school together and back home together. I was a lanky kid, looked younger than my twelve years, and next to Harrys round cheeks I seemed a wisp of a boy.

I lunged for the croissant, almost snatching it from Clarke, but I slipped, knocked the globe on the teachers desk and sent it crashing to the floor. It split in two with a crack that ran down the right side. It would have been no big deal if the geography teacher hadnt walked in at that moment.

She glanced at me, eyes narrowed. Matthew, stay.

Reluctantly, I shuffled over to the teachers desk, trying not to meet her gaze. She leaned in, her voice low. What are you doing, Matthew? Youre a sensible lad.

She paused dramatically, and the tension in the room made me want to crawl under the desk. I imagined the headmasters office or a call to my mum Id already been in trouble for a threepoint test at home.

Luckily, she softened. Fine, I wont call your parents, but youll help me after school with the textbooks.

Alright, Mrs. Carter, I muttered, glancing at my battered sneakers.

At least they didnt call my mum. Still, my mood was ruined. After school, Harry was whisked off to the doctor, so I couldnt share my unfair punishment with him.

We all dumped our coats in the locker room, and I, watching the chaos, trudged to Mrs. Carters office. She made me haul textbooks from the library and then tidy the classroom. Two hours later, I left the empty school into a damp, grey twilight.

I trudged home, the rain seeping through my coat, feeling miserable. Why does life have to be so unfair? Id only stood up for a friend and ended up the one who got the short end of the stick. Clarke walked away unpunished, even though hed started the whole mess. And the rain kept pouring, just like the news my cousin sent about fresh snow covering the town, making everything look like a pictureperfect postcard nothing like the soggy sidewalks and biting wind here.

Lost in those thoughts, I didnt notice Id taken the usual route with Harry through the park. We always walked together, daylight or not. Now I was alone, feeling like a broken globe left in an empty classroom.

I snapped out of my gloom when I reached the middle of the wet path. Bare trees thrust their skeletal branches into the colourless sky, and dense shrubs loomed on either side.

What if someones hiding in those bushes, waiting for the next victim? I thought, remembering the strange neighbour on the ground floor. What if shes out hunting lonely, lost boys, her eyes glinting like cold snakes?

A shiver ran down my spine, not from the wind but from sheer terror. I turned and saw a dark figure in a hoodie following me.

I broke into a run and heard a voice shout behind me, Hey, lad, stop! It was a mans voice, but that didnt make it any easier. I knew better than to talk to strangers, especially on a deserted alley.

My backpack felt like a sack of stones, digging into my shoulders, and I cursed the endless pile of textbooks we were forced to carry every day.

The footsteps behind me grew louder. The stranger kept pace, gravel crunching under his boots. I could hear his heavy breathing.

Suddenly something yanked at my bag, almost sending me sprawling. Something clamped onto the strap.

I turned slowly and faced a man holding my backpack by the strap. He grinned wickedly. Whats the hurry? I just wanted a chat.

Fear froze my tongue; I couldnt muster a sound. I noticed he kept his other hand hidden behind his back.

Whats he got? A knife? A gun? I thought, eyes darting.

The park was empty, the street lamps unlit, the rain drumming monotonously on the benches. I wished a dogwalker would stroll by, but there was none.

The strangers eyes glinted like a predators. He slipped his other hand from behind his back, revealing a filthy rag. He thrust it toward my face; the smell hit me like windowcleaner, sharp and nauseating. I felt dizzy, on the brink of losing consciousness.

Just then, a smaller, wiry figure leapt from the shadows, pouncing on the stranger. He released my bag, and I stumbled backward. My legs felt rooted to the ground, as if the mud had seized them. Time seemed to stretch forever; I imagined Id become a permanent fixture in that miserable park, forever drenched beside the leafless trees.

The newcomer was shorter, leaner than the hulking man, but he managed to pin his opponent to the ground. They tussled, shouting and thrashing, until the larger man let out a guttural scream that cut through the wind and sent a chill to my bones.

Then came a soundcrooked, guttural, like a man chewing a date and smacking his lips. It was as if my grandfathers old marmalade made a strange noise.

Streetlights flickered on, bathing the alley in a ghostly yellow glow. The smaller attacker leaned over his foe, his dark hair spilling from his hood. A woman emerged from the shadows, her long hair tumbling from the hood, eyes flashing a sickly yellow.

It was the neighbour from the ground floor. Id only ever seen her a few times pale, gaunt, always in that dark hood. Now her face was smeared with blood, two long fangs protruding from her mouth. She wiped the gore away with the cuff of her sleeve as if it were nothing more than cream.

She stared at me, her pupils glinting like a cats, then vanished back into the shrubbery. The hulking man lay motionless on the wet gravel, his throat a dark pool, a foul-smelling rag abandoned beside him.

It took me a few heartbeats to shake off the paralysis. I bolted from the park, sprinting faster than I ever had before. Five minutes later I slammed into my flat, slamming the door shut, gasping for breath. Luckily my parents werent home explaining why Id bolted from a park would have been a nightmare.

I swore Id tell nobody not Harry, not anyone. What had happened was too bizarre to fit in my head. So was Harry right about a monster? Perhaps not the snakescale or the childeating, but there was definitely something vampiric about her, and she seemed to prefer grownups.

If anyone heard me, theyd think I was dreaming. My parents would chalk it up to childish imagination, and Harry would doubt that a vampire saved me rather than ate me. Even I couldnt understand why the vampire neighbour let me live.

From that night on I spent every spare minute glued to the television, afraid Id miss a news bulletin about the body found in the park. Oddly, nothing ever came out. Three days later the evening news merely mentioned that two missing boys had been found dead in a mans house, with no word on how the man died.

Perhaps they didnt want to frighten the public; the idea of a hungry vampire prowling the city would spook people far more than a handful of missing children.

I stopped watching the news altogether and eventually the whole episode faded. The memory of the vampire neighbour drifted away like snowflakes melting under the spring sun, replaced by school worries, the upcoming Christmas break and the usual teenage dramas.

Snow finally fell at the end of December. Harry and I were returning from chess club, and as we neared the block, the groundfloor neighbour slipped out of the stairwell. Harry, engrossed in recounting his winning move, didnt even notice her. Hed finally turned a corner the doctors advice to cut back on sweets had helped him lose weight, and even Clarke had ceased his taunts.

I halflistened to Harry, my eyes glued to the vampires retreating form. She shot me a quick glance from beneath her hood, then vanished into the fresh, sparkling snow. For a moment I imagined her pale face and fangs, but now she was just a gaunt, older woman with no obvious vampire traits. Her lips were colourless, stretched in a thin smile.

Ah, theres the recluse from the ground floor! Harry finally remarked, pulling himself away from his story.

Yeah I muttered, turning to head into the stairwell, and gave one last look at the dark silhouette disappearing down the snowcovered pavement.

***

Blythe stepped out early this morning; the streets were layered in a thick blanket of snow, and the sun was bright enough that no ones eyes were glaring. She could hide her fangs at any time, but the unnatural pallor and the yellow glint of her eyes might draw unwanted attention.

Shed been on a strict diet of the blood of the worst scoundrels for decades, yet the constant presence of ordinary folk remained a torment. She couldnt live far from bustling towns thats where the prey lived: criminals, abusers, devils who preyed on innocent children like the one shed feasted on last month. Blythe could sniff out such people by the sour, metallic scent they carried, a smell that no rain or snow could mask.

Shed just passed a boy the same one whod survived the park incident as he left his flat. She sensed his fear and confusion before even seeing him. A month earlier hed stayed put, seeing everything, but Blythe was convinced hed say nothing. He reeked of panic.

Who would take a childs vampire tale seriously? In every city theres a secret network that hides the bodies of vampire victims from the public, and an ancient law that tells vampires to leave ordinary folk alone while humans turn a blind eye. Vampires dont touch people; people ignore vampires.

Blythe only glanced at the boy and hurried on, not wanting his sweet childlike scent to overwhelm her. Living among people was a constant struggle forever alone, hidden in shadows, unnoticed and unwelcome. Her name, given by her adoptive parents, meant stranger in Greek, and it suited her perfectly.

She preferred tiny groundfloor flats in city centres so she could slip out of stairwells without using lifts. Occasionally other tenants stared at her, but she simply hid her face and moved on, saying nothing.

What else could she do? A vampire is a doubtful friend and confidante for a human. If only the people who disliked Blythe knew the monsters she rid their streets of theyd be far scarier than any vampire.

Being misunderstood, unwanted and foreign was something shed grown used to. It was a habit, as steady as her nightly hunts.

A familiar gnawing feeling settled in her stomach. Hunger had plagued her for weeks, and the right scent was nowhere to be found.

Perhaps today would be her luck?