He was there too early.
The vampire told him to come after sundown, but he had a fight with his parents and he may have accidentally dropped his father’s favorite vase.
He slipped through the wired gate, waited in front of the huge building for a moment, then decided he’s going in.
Even though it was still broad daylight, the walls are too thick and there’s no windows. The hallways were as dark as always, only lighted by the torches burning on the wall and around each corner.
He’s heading to the bedroom upstairs, where they usually meet, where there’s too much space he doubt you can still call it a bedroom. Walked past the twelfth corner, he counted, the last turn is to the right and he should be right in front of the heavy wooden door leading to the vampire’s room.
He knocked three times. No one answered, for obvious reasons.
*
Dim light from the lamp on his coffin-side table casted shadows on the vampire’s face. He’s such a stereotypical vampire, he thought, with his pasty skin and prominent features. Even that long, slick black hair looks like it directly came out of a Twilight fanfiction.
*
“What’s wrong?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“I didn’t know vampires can dream.”
“Well, now you know.”
The vampire answered way too fast for it to be convincing.
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