This story was written for The Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre Challenge:
Today’s genre is VAMPIRE.
People thought that living alone in a drafty castle was just an idiosyncrasy, as was wearing velvet robes with flowing white linen shirts.
They thought he modelled his appearance on the portraits of his ancestors that littered the dusty walls.
The upshot of his weird behaviour was that practically nobody disturbed him. In the past that would have caused him great distress, as he would have no victims on which to feed. Nowadays that was no problem, he could order what he required online and it was delivered fresh. AB negative was his favourite flavour, slightly sweeter and less metallic tasting than other types. He avoided O Positive unless he was desperate, it just tasted inferior and often gave him terrible reflux.
The fact that he was a Vampire just didn’t enter into people’s minds, not with any stretch of their imagination. These things were just not believed anymore. He had Hollywood to thank for that. They had all been exposed to such drivel from the movies, which at first had filled him with absolute dread that people would suddenly realise what he was. Instead, it made them less suspicious.
They didn’t believe that most of these family portraits were actually of him, in times gone by when he had bothered to keep up with the latest fashion trends. He didn’t miss the wigs at all. He just combed his sleek black hair back into a ponytail nowadays.
As he sat at the dinner table, surrounded by silverware that glinted in the candlelight, he smiled as he took a sip from his goblet.
To tell the absolute truth, he was rather lonely. He contemplated shutting up the castle and going on holiday somewhere. His uncle had had a wonderful time in Whitby, in England, a couple of centuries before, he raved about the place, until they’d managed to put that steak through his heart.
He put that thought out of his mind again. Even he had nobody to talk to, there was an upside. He was never visited by the taxman or any religious nuts.
He stood up from the table and strode from the room, his deep red velvet robes billowing behind him. Then he flopped into his leather armchair by the fire and turned on his television. He never liked to miss an episode of The Waltons.