Wednesday, June 12, 2024

Wednesday Briefs: Dracula #18 (5.1)

 Good morning and Happy Hump Day! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.

Things have gone from bad to worse as the villagers have been seen getting ready to converge on the church. Gunther quickly provides a hiding place for Avram and his employer, but Dracula is none too keen on it. See what's going on in this week's chapter of Dracula. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's happening with them. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!

Dracula #18 (5.1)

To say that Dracula was not happy with this turn of events would be an understatement. Under other circumstances, in another place, he would have simply fought his way out, something he was more than capable of doing.  But that was not the best solution here and now though. Necessity compelled them to make the most rational choice. That being the case, he saw no sense in taking out his displeasure on Avram. If he were to be completely honest with himself, this situation was of his own making. Well, at least some of it. Avram had warned him against continuing his dalliance, but he’d paid no attention to his advice and did precisely as he wished. As he invariably did. Even so, there had been no need for the idiot blacksmith to do what he did. Knowing that the man paid the ultimate price for his unwarranted cruelty gave Dracula a certain satisfaction.

But this…

He repressed a shudder and followed Avram without comment as the priest pointed them down a narrow set of stairs into what felt like the very bowels of the earth itself.  Or maybe this was the entrance to hell. What was this place? How did he not know of its existence? More importantly, how long must they remain here? He didn’t entirely trust the priest, but thus far he’d shown himself to be more honorable than the villagers. And clearly Avram trusted him and he trusted Avram.

His unease only continued to grow the further they went. Their descent soon ended, though, to his relief, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. But his relief was short-lived when he realized that the space they found themselves in was no more than about ten feet long and maybe half that distance wide. The room—if one were to use the term loosely—was completely empty and reeked of disuse and decay. Dracula wrinkled his sensitive nose in disgust as ancient odors of unwashed bodies assailed him, permeated with feelings of fear. The rough stone walls were damp to the touch. How and why they’d been excavated, he couldn’t say.

“Don’t make a sound,” the priest admonished them. “I’ll return as soon as I can.” Before Dracula could protest, the floor was creaking back into place, enclosing them in darkness. Luckily, he had better eyesight than most—not that there was anything to see—his senses being rather preternatural. There were other reasons for his unease.

“Don’t worry, everything will be all right,” Avram softly assured him. “Why don’t you set down the trunk so we can sit on it.”

Dracula thumped the trunk onto the stone floor, perhaps a little harder than necessary, in order to express his displeasure. But, to his surprise, Avram didn’t bother to chide him or tell him to be careful with his property. Instead, he took a seat on the trunk and patted the domed surface beside him, as if inviting him to sit there. The Baroque style trunk was a recent acquisition—well, it had been twenty years, but to the vampire that was recent. The domed top overhung the sides, giving it the appearance of being larger than it was. Molded iron straps ran from front to back with similar straps along the front of the cherry oak chest, which was also decorated with various figures that resembled angels. The vampire had found that to be an amusing touch when he’d first purchased the piece in Vienna years before.

 Dracula considered his options for a moment, but in the end he decided that standing was something he was not interested in and so he sat… and silently waited.

They had barely situated themselves when he became aware of voices from above them. Voices that were not the priest. Angry voices. Apparently, they had entered this hiding place not a moment too soon. The villagers—at least some of them—had arrived.

Dracula watched as Avram cast a worried glance upward. “He will be fine,” the vampire assured him before putting one finger to his lips. No rejoinder was necessary. He needed to listen.

“What has happened here?” a man’s angry voice demanded to know. Other voices joined in, as if what had occurred were not obvious, their querulous questions punctuated by occasional shrieks and screams as others arrived. Was everyone converging on this one place for some reason? Their number seemed to be swelling, as if someone was deliberately leading them here where few people ever bothered to come—someone who did not have either Avram’s or his best interests at heart.  He noticed that some of the women of the village had also arrived, probably agitated by the sudden appearances of their drunken husbands in their homes, having been whipped into an irrational frenzy by the old woman, curse her soul. Dracula was fairly sure not all the shrieks he was hearing came from members of the fairer sex, either.

For a few moments, a chaos of indistinguishable sounds reigned from above. Dracula couldn’t help but notice that Avram was disquieted by what even he could hear, despite their underground location. He wrung his hands together in distress. At one point, he attempted to rise, but Dracula shook his head and he gave up the effort. The sounds began to grow fainter and fainter, and Dracula knew the priest had somehow managed to still their protests… at least for the moment.

“What has happened is that Bogdan has killed his good wife,” the priest said. “And he has also brought about his own demise, as you can see.”

How clever of the priest not to say the blacksmith killed himself. Loosely speaking, he was telling the truth. Probably to salve his priestly conscience. Dracula didn’t care what he said, as long as it diverted the attention of the village away from this place.

“But why?” “Yes, why?”

A moment of silence.

“He was undoubtedly misled by evil voices.”

Now that was an outright lie.

 to be continued

Now go see what's up with the other Briefers!

Cia Nordwell

J Ray Lamb

 

 

 

 

 


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