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.
Dracula seems a little restless, and it doesn't help that a storm is brewing. See what's happening in this week's chapter of Dracula. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's up with them. Their links follow my tale. Enjoy!
The
decision to disembark had been an impulsive one, but one not out of keeping
with his nature. Stretching his long legs after being cooped up in the hold of
that miserable boat, trapped among the various barrels and crates of sundries
the smuggler was ferrying up the river—some of which smelled rather foul—felt
good. He did not deal well with confinement of any sort, although few knew of
this idiosyncrasy as he found it easier to dissimulate than to reveal truths
regarding himself. Sometimes in the middle of the night, while Avram slept,
Dracula would wander through the forest outside the castle, seldom venturing as
far as the village, however. At these times, he felt more at home among the
denizens of the night, over many of whom he held sway, than he did with most
people, Avram being the exception. Unfortunately, he did not always have the
luxury of the splendid isolation he preferred. As in the current circumstances.
He stole a
cautious glance at Avram, attempting to gauge his temperament. He understood,
without having to be told, why Avram was less than enthusiastic concerning
their proposed destination. But there was little he could do about that. At the
moment, their options were limited. This was not like their previous travels, which
had been better planned and well organized, even if their objectives were the
same. Neither of them had anticipated the circumstances that impelled their
hasty departure in the middle of the night. To make matters worse, their
available funds were precarious at the best of times. Even he realized that,
and he generally did not disturb himself regarding mere financial matters.
“Avram,”
he began, surprised at his own hesitation.
“Yes,
Nico? Did you change your mind? Do you need to feed now? I will see what I can
do.” Avram, as always, was very solicitous of his well-being. Sometimes he
wondered how he had come to deserve such devotion.
Before he
could respond, a chill wind gusted about them, penetrating the thin veneer of
the disgusting garments that he couldn’t wait to shed. He raised his head, instantly
on the alert, as he reached out with his senses. The air pressure around them
had suddenly begun to drop and the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance.
Why hadn’t he noticed this impending change in the weather before? Because he’d
been too distracted by other thoughts. A storm was headed in their direction.
They should probably get under way soon. Where was that idiot boatman?
Resisting
the urge to growl, Dracula waved off the idea he might be hungry with one hand.
“No, I am fine, I assure you. I just wanted to say—”
. “Maybe
we should return to the boat and wait for Andrei there.” Avram glanced about
them warily, as if he too sensed a disturbance. “I’m sorry, what were you about
to say?”
What had
he been about to say? That he was sorry for what had happened, sorry for what
was probably going to happen in Vienna… sorry for everything that had occurred
thus far in his miserable life, although he wasn’t sure where that last thought
had come from. He was Dracula… he was above such useless emotions.
Or was he?
to be continued
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