Oscar Chen 3/31 PD 7

 

• Creativity & Fiction

• Craft a piece of FAN fiction related to any of the reading we’ve done in class that addresses one or more of the following: 

• Literary elements (i.e. structure, tone, diction, mood, irony, and figurative language) to craft a narrative.

• Structural features of drama (stage directions, character attributions/tags, dialogue, monologues, and/or soliloquies) to craft a script.

• Multidimensional characters to develop themes and create socio-political metaphors.

I set down my bowl and sat down atop one of the many rickety stools that litter the otherwise barren room save for the occasional villager. The faint flicker of the tiny flame casts a disproportionately large shadow upon everyone as if to swallow us into the depths of despair. A thick layer of unease had grown over, encasing Varna in a cocoon of doubt. 

Vampires. That’s the only explanation. I’ve watched villagers get picked off like flies as if us mortals were mere insects to some elaborate game of some sick, demented vampire, determined to curse us with its presence. We had killed one some days ago, under the observation of some foreigner. Dug up its grave and drove a stake into its accursed heart. Truth be told I didn’t believe it was over, and oh so right I was as not days had gone by before the foreigner's partner had fallen to it. 

The man now sits in the corner of the inn, muttering incoherently in the English few of us understood. We had tried to explain to him what would become of his lady and that we must exorcize her promptly but he exploded on us, vehemently refusing. He believes in neither us nor the existence of vampires. The poor man who we later learn is named Morgan, was obviously going mad, yet adamant in his refusal of us, even cussing us out with no doubt derogatory slang.

Before I even brought the contents of the bowl to my mouth I heard the sounds of a carriage pull up to the entrance. Obviously everyone else heard too since they all perked up giving way to the sunken eyes of tormented men. I heaved a sigh, and stood up calmly. I couldn’t let it show how much it terrified me, so I grabbed onto my shawl and walked over to the entrance, opening the creaky latched door only the slightest sliver that I could see through to the outsiders. I felt such relief when I saw the well-dressed man exit a lavish carriage, a young girl in tow. 

Nevertheless I had to be on guard, maybe not for me but for the young man. His and his child’s decadent attire suggest they are strangers to these lands, possibly oblivious to the going ons of this region. Before I could caution him about anything, he pushed up to the entrance insistent on their intrusion. The young girl whispered to him something I did not catch, and he traced his gaze towards the crude apotropaics we’ve hung, seemingly unfazed. Perhaps the Lord had told me, but I had a sense then that this outlander need not know of our circumstances, and that I would only urge him to leave at dawn. 

Getting settled I prepared food for our guests, painfully aware of the tense atmosphere. It was then that Morgan called out to the guest in English, his drunken disheveled appearance even hard for us to watch. To my surprise the newcomer also spoke English and responded to him. Morgan urged him to leave at once, to which I interjected with my suggestion of moving only at dawn. Morgan had then told him what we needed to do with his lady, much to my dismay. I had this sense that he must not know, and so I threatened to throw them out. I was reaching my breaking point yet they continued conversing.

They returned some time later, the newcomer demanding where it was. I had then given into his threats and told him everything. I knew I had failed then, but either for mine or his sake, I ripped the crucifix off the wall and thrusted it onto him. I can only pray that is enough to protect his soul. He left swiftly with the young lady. I had kneeled down to say some prayers when Morgan, now fully broken, burst through the door of the inn onto the desolate streets of Varna, a crazed look in his eyes. Perhaps this is our only time to kill his lady before she turns into a vampire herself. Perhaps this is our opportunity to rid ourselves of our vampire plights.