The Coven (a story writing practice - part 1)

The low hanging fog clung around the street lamps like fabric, making the little bulbs inside look like amber stars while the moon gradually moved shifted overhead. The rain fell lightly, almost looking like glitter in the wind. It definitely looked cold. I stood by the door, twirling my cigarette between my thumb and forefinger and took a final drag from it, watching the smoke rise into the air as I stubbed it out on the stone wall. The warmth of the house met my skin like water to an ice cube. The house was dimly lit tonight, with all the lamps around the house and the kitchen extraction fan light all on low, like candlelight and the open fire in the sitting room cracked and licked the dry wood in that comforting glow. I was greeted by Charles, with his shit blond hair and his shit dated dress sense. He could smell the cigarette on me, even more being a Vampire.

“You know I don’t like that, Alex,” said Charles, “how many times have I told you to stop?”

“Oh god, I’m a Vampire it’s not going to kill me.” I said, a cheeky grin crept its way into my dimples. I sure do enjoy being right and Charles’ sarcastic scoff reassured me that I was.

“It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah well, when I want to hear your old values, I’ll ask for them.” His brow narrowed, hooding his pair of dark ruby red eyes. If he could kill me again, he would have. Charles is what you could label as conservative - as in he still maintained his old human values just like I did my habits: he listened to classical music, sipping sherry reading a newspaper whereas I smoke, and often in front of him just to see his nose wrinkle at the smell. ‘I understand you’re from a different era to me, but could you be more respectful?’ he asked me once. I do maintain respect, but I only give it to those who deserve mine, like my human parents for example.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that. You have your values, I have mine,” I said as he walked away. “Got something interesting to listen to on Radio 4, have you?” I chuckled. He kept walking and like a flash, disappeared upstairs. At that moment, there was a knock on the door behind me. Upon opening it, the scent hit me like a car to a wall. Human…

“Evening Sir, my name is Elij-“ he paused for a moment. A muted scream came from somewhere in the house. He looked behind me.

“We’re a family of professional tattoo artists. My Dad is doing one on my brother right now." The man looked me in the eye. “…Yes?” I finally asked after what felt like minutes, “I do have things to do, you know.”

“Sorry, uh… just… your eyes are…” I knew where this was going, “…beautiful… pardon me if that’s an uncomfortable comment, Sir,” I couldn't help smiling at the formality.

“No not at all, Elijah,” His face looked confused when I said his name.

“How did you know my name?” he asked.

I lied. “Lucky guess.” I said with a disregarding shrug. The long pause that followed invited him to tell me what he was doing knocking on my door this late at night. Humans should normally be asleep by the darkest point of the night, so when he didn’t stop looking at my eyes, I had to click my fingers. “Sorry… uh… I’m just wondering if you’ve, um, seen this boy?” Fumbling in his coat pocket, he took out a folded piece of paper and unfolded it. On it was a picture of a young man, looking roughly early 20s under the unmistakable word “missing” in big block capitals. The young man was Jordin Spark, aged 21, last seen in Huddersfield town centre over two weeks prior.

“No sorry, I haven’t… Is he from this area?” I asked, trying to sound interested.

“Yes, Aspley,” he said. Another scream arose, but he didn’t seem to question it.

“Well, I work around Huddersfield, leave this with me and I’ll keep an eye out for him.” I almost snatched the poster from his hand. “Write your mobile number on the back so I can contact you if I do.” The whole time I held his gaze in mine. Handing him back the poster, he took out a pen and did as told, without breaking eye contact, and I took the poster back.

“Bye, now.” I said as I shut the door on him. Running downstairs to the basement, more screaming became louder and louder. I opened the door, and found a Mr Jordin Spark, who was half naked, and cuffed to the table. My mouth began to water. “Hmmm. What are we going to do with you…” I said half smiling, my teeth protruding and ready.