My Mum, The Vampire

Happy World Dracula Day!

Those of you who have read it may recall that in Duplicity, Adam starts thinking about writing a story called “My Mum, The Vampire.” So, to honour Dracula, or Bram Stoker, I have written a flash fiction piece with that title.

Note: This is a standalone piece from “Adam’s” imagination so does not contain any spoilers and is unrelated to The Dangers of Dreaming book series.

Enjoy!


My mum is the prettiest lady I know. She has long black hair, bright red lips, and eyes as blue as my pencil case. It’s a really cool pencil case. My auntie bought it for me for my birthday.

My auntie looks after me a lot now, she tells me that Mum is sick, but I don’t believe her. I hear her watching TV in her room sometimes, and I know she goes outside when I’m supposed to be asleep. I hear her window slide open. I have very good hearing, I’m like a bat. I learnt about bats at school.

I don’t understand why she keeps locking herself away from me. It’s not all the time, but really often, and she never picks me up from school anymore. We used to walk home via the park, and she always let me play on the swings. Auntie never lets me play. She always pulls me along and says to hurry up because we have to go pick up Archie.

Archie is her son, my cousin. I hate him. He’s a big fat bully and he’s always mean to me. He says that Mum doesn’t love me anymore and that’s why she doesn’t like spending time with me. Archie is a liar.

I know Mum is at least a little bit sick because she has smudges under her blue eyes now, and her skin has gone really pale. But she’s still my mum, and she’s still beautiful. I like that word, b-e-a-utiful is what I think when I spell it. I’m in the top group for Spelling.

I painted a picture today, of Mum and me. I can’t wait to show her. She’s going to love it. She says I’m going to be an artist when I grow up. I think I’d rather be a fireman, but I like how she smiles when she looks at my art.

Auntie says I can’t show the picture to Mum today, she says I have to wait until Mum is feeling better, “Maybe tomorrow.” But I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I have a better idea. I’m going to meet her in the garden, tonight.

*

After Auntie has tucked me in and kissed my forehead, I lie really still and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I listen to her moving around the lounge, then the bathroom, and then finally, she closes the door to the spare room. Archie is on a sleepover tonight, so I don’t have to worry about him.

I get out of bed and put my big warm jumper on over my pyjamas, and my slippers. I don’t want to risk getting my coat and trainers because the door to them squeaks loud. I tiptoe down the stairs and carefully unlock the back door. I go outside and sit on our little brick wall, holding my picture.

Now I just have to wait. Mum will sneak out of her window soon, I know it. I can’t wait to see how she climbs down. Maybe she can teach me.

It’s quite cold out here, and I can hear the bugs. I look around the garden in the moonlight. It’s like another world at night, isn’t it?

I see something move at the end of the garden. I think it’s a rabbit. Wow, a wild rabbit. I have to investigate.

Billy from school has a pet rabbit. I wonder if this rabbit will be my pet. I crouch down and try to get a closer look, it’s right at the back behind this bush.

Something makes a thud and I hear the rabbit’s feet as it kicks the mud and makes a run for it across the grass. I watch as it is caught by its predator. She bites into the little rabbit’s neck, then pulls back. Her teeth are pointy and dripping with blood.

A noise escapes my mouth as I stand in shock. My mum is a p-r-e-d-a-t-o-r. I run towards the back door, trip, and graze my knee. Her pencil case blue eyes narrow at me, as she wipes her mouth.

Blood oozes through my pyjamas from my knee and I’m scared. I don’t want to be like the rabbit. I don’t want to be the prey.

She stares at me like she’s daydreaming. I stay still, trying not to cry. Then I watch as she scales the side of the house like a spider and climbs back into her bedroom.

I sit and cry until Auntie hears me and comes down to see what’s the matter. She washes my knee and kisses it better. Mum used to kiss my grazes better, but I don’t want her to now. I don’t want those pointy teeth near me. She killed the rabbit.

Auntie won’t tell me why Mum did that, she tells me she didn’t. She says I was dreaming, but I know that’s not true. You can’t hurt yourself in your dreams, and I scraped my knee.

*

The next day, when he gets back from his sleepover, I ask Archie. He has another idea. He teaches me a new word. V-a-m-p-i-r-e, vampire – a person who drinks blood. He says my mum is weird because she should have drunk my blood rather than the little rabbit’s, but that’s what she is. A vampire. My Mum, the vampire.

She’s still the prettiest lady I know, though.


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