The Lone Vampire Part 3

Miranda had told Randy to wait outside for a second. He wondered what her parents looked like after three years. In the meantime, he looked lazily about his old home. It was pretty much the same, except darker and gloomier. Some of the roofs on the houses were covered in debris such as dead leaves, rotted wood beams and old branches. But for some reason, it cheered him up. “Must be a ‘dead’ thing,” he told himself. He had come to terms with the fact that he was dead long ago. No more having to cut his hair; it never grew any longer, no having to worry about getting hungry; he never ate (except for the required dose of blood every month), and his favorite, no more having to get up in the morning; he slept during the day at most times. As he continued to ponder on these thoughts, footsteps were heard from behind the door. He looked down as the door handle turned, expecting pretty much everything. What if there was a loaded gun with Holy Water-poisoned tipped bullets? What if he was pounced upon and forced to eat garlic? What if he was gagged and unable to stop if they strapped crosses to his bare skin? The ideas made his skin crawl. But what opened the door didn’t kill him, torture him, burn him, or any combination of the three. Instead, what hid behind the door made him blush. Miranda was standing there, wearing one of the prettiest dresses he had ever seen. Back at his current village, a dress considered “beautiful” was one that was black and didn’t have holes or stains in it. Randy didn’t care for black, and liked purple better. And purple was the exact color of Miranda’s dress. “Well? Are you going to come in for dinner?” she asked kindly, but still maintaining a rather sexy pose. Randy continued to stare at her figure for a moment or so before answering. “Uh…sure!” he stuttered. “I mean…uh…what about these?” he asked, pointing to the dirty remnants of a coat and shirt that he was wearing. Miranda took a moment to stare at his dirty, full-of-holes clothes he was wearing. She then grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him in. He heard a sharp ripping sound as he was tugged along. He could have resisted with no problem, but he didn’t want to hurt her. These days, his strength was beyond and human’s. He could brake boulders with a punch if he wanted to, so he just gave in and followed Miranda. He instinctively shut the door behind him, trying to make the quietest sound he could. He continued to follow Miranda, eventually passing an opening in the wall, almost like a doorway in which he could see Miranda’s parents eating supper quietly. He noticed that their faces were pink and full of blood, unlike his pale and dismal appearance. His envy turned to embarrassment as they entered Miranda’s room. He had never been in a girl’s room before, and he would have never thought that he would in his lifetime. He was right. His lifetime was over. Now it was his deathtime. His eyes wondered over to a stray pair of panties lying on the floor. He immediately pulled his shirt over his crotch section as he had always done when he saw that kind of thing, but realized that he didn’t have enough blood left to get an erection. He eased up, but still gazed at her panties from time to time. Miranda ushered him into a dark room which was rather cramped. Miranda flicked on the light switch, allowing him to see his surroundings. He was in her dressing room. He was now surrounded by multiple skirts, panties, bras and other clothing accessories. He was so embarrassed he actually did get an erection. He tried desperately to hide the bulge in his pants, but was forced to turn around by Miranda’s grip. He reluctantly turned to her, giving her a full view of his area. She eyed it for a second, and then continued with what she was doing. Relieved, he allowed her to pull off his shirt, coat, pants and shoes. He was wearing no socks, but he didn’t stink. His body was too dead to produce sweat. He was felt uncomfortable, standing in nothing but his boxers, but he trusted Miranda completely. “You never told me how large you were,” Miranda teased. Randy puffed in protest. “Why would I?” he pouted. Miranda smirked and kept to work. She seemed to be searching in a small bin of clothes that seemed way too big to fit her. She came down after about ten minutes, a pile of black clothes in her arms. She tossed them suddenly at Randy, expecting them to hit him and flop down to the ground. Fortunately, Randy’s senses had improved greatly since he died, and he easily caught them. She puffed angrily and closed the door to the room. He scanned through the clothes she had given him: black jeans with a black cloth belt, a black Gibson shirt (he was happy because Gibson was the brand of guitar that his band used), black socks, and a pair of black sneakers. A little too Goth, in his opinion, but he was dead. What would it matter to him? He happily slipped to clean Gibson shirt, happy to feel cotton again. He had some problems with the pants, but figured it out soon enough. He pulled the socks up to his shins and yanked the shoes on. He then noticed how he had not grown at all in three years, and remembered just how tall Miranda was to him now. He was still taller, but she was up to his nose now. He began to regret dying, and missed growing. But it was his fault for all of this. If he hadn’t been so reckless and lead Miranda to the forbidden park, he wouldn’t have died and he and Miranda might have actually been in a normal relationship. But, then again, he just wasn’t a normal kid. He wouldn’t have been able to lead a normal life, no matter how badly he wanted one. As he tied his shoe laces, the door opened and Miranda stepped in. Peering down, she smirked. “Well, how do they fit?” she asked. Randy met her gaze and grinned. “Great, but why do you have these? These are guys’ clothes,” he asked, puzzled. Miranda’s expression turned sad and she quietly explained her reasons. “I got those for you…three years ago. I was planning…to give them to you…but then you died…” she asked, sniffing and starting to tear up. The guilt suddenly built up upon Randy’s shoulders as he realized what Miranda must have felt while believing that he was dead and gone forever. It must have been terribly traumatizing for you to have your boyfriend die. Randy walked over to her and put his hands around her shoulders. “It fits perfectly,” he said, smiling. She smiled up at him and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her purple dress was still shining in the sun, or whatever sun could be seen. The clouds covered most of the sky. A dim, misty silence hung over the small valley, giving it an eerie look. Miranda led him down the stairs, careful not to make much noise. She brought him into the room where dinner was set out. He immediately felt the burning stare of Miranda’s parents etching into his back. Miranda sat Randy down and let him scoot his chair in. Miranda walked uneasily and sat down herself. Randy was more uncomfortable than when Miranda stripped him. The two adults gave Randy the evil eye for what seemed like hours before Miranda finally said something. “Well…this is R-…I mean my ‘friend’…” she stuttered. Her parents looked down at their plates, probably trying to come up with something to say. Randy tried to hide into the chair. Miranda nudged Randy and pointed to the plate. He looked down at the food: shrimp that were cooked in some kind of sauce. He slowly picked up his fork and stabbed a shrimp. The burning stare began again, and Randy got the vague feeling that he was intruding something. Stuffing the shrimp into his mouth, he tried to hide hid fangs the best he could. He began to chew, wondering what he was getting himself into. The shrimp tasted good, up until he swallowed. It caught in his throat, making him gag. A sudden burning filled his conscious, so strong that he almost fainted. His throat felt like it was on fire, burning and burning. “Pfft! Wh-What the hell is in this?!” Randy yelled while trying to spit it out. Miranda’s parents seemed unnaturally calm. They even had small smirks on their faces. Miranda sat looking at her plate, her face pale. He screamed and screamed, trying to get her attention. She remained silent, staring at her food. Finally Miranda’s mother spoke. “Garlic,” she chuckled. The mere thought of swallowing the garlic made Randy scream. He was already allergic to garlic while living, but garlic is one of every vampire’s worst enemies. He choked and sputtered, but it stayed lodged in his throat. He grabbed hold of Miranda’s dress and was immediately shot into the darkness. Colors of dark blue, brown and grey swirled before him, making his eyes go cross. He felt himself being dragged against his will into the unknown; just another lost soul.
He awoke a immediately felt something wet on his forehead. He tried to open his eyes but a massive headache blocked his vision. He struggled to sit up but was restrained by a strong grip. When he could finally open his eyes, he could see that he was on a bed, surrounded by Miranda, her parents, and a doctor. Miranda was dabbing at his head with a wet cloth, and the doctor was pale in the face. Miranda’s parents were exchanging quick words with the doctor, who was stuttering and looked like he had seen a ghost. He might have seen something worse; a living corpse. After a couple of brief moments, the doctor walked (more like ran) out of the room. Miranda’s parents had a savage look about them, but not as hostile as he had just seen them. “What happened?” he asked lazily. Miranda’s mother shot him a mean glance. “Be quiet, Randy,” she scolded. The hairs on the back of Randy’s neck rose about a foot. Was he all figured out? Would he have to go back and be executed? Would he be stripped of his rank of a vampire and forced to live alone in an isolated section? The possibilities were endless. Miranda continued to dab at his aching forehead as painful thoughts raced through it.