A Vampire can lurk in the shadows, patiently wait

A Vampire can lurk in the shadows, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to strike and get what it desires. If you happen to cross paths with one of these sinister beings, you could find yourself entangled in its sinister fate. The only way to escape this curse is to have a silver cross around your neck, which may offer you a chance at survival.

I remember one night when it led me on a chilling journey. We travelled up Mill Street, weaving through a graveyard behind Saint Luke’s parish church. I followed as it took a right turn down Walsall Road, slipping into a narrow alleyway before emerging onto Hunter Road. The hunt continued down yet another small alley, eventually leading me to the Holy Rosary, right beside the Catholic nunnery. It was there that I lost its trail. At first, I couldn’t comprehend the idea that a vampire could find rest on holy ground, but it was the only explanation that made any sense.

The convent of the Holy Rosary, located near Cannock, concealed a very grim secret. Unbeknownst to the world, it was a sanctuary for a vampire. For years, the creature had been allowed to roam free at night, preying on local farm animals and wildlife. The other nuns were convinced that it was safe from feeding on humans, but their understanding was deeply flawed. One of their own, a nun who had travelled extensively throughout Europe, had been bitten by a Follower and had somehow returned, undetected. Or so they believed. In reality, she had survived the ordeal and made her way back to the nunnery next to Saint Mary’s, an old Catholic school that now stood derelict. But I had a feeling that the school was hiding something dark as well, and I was determined to uncover the truth.

If I had been thinking clearly, I might have reconsidered my decision to venture up there. I had heard the warnings, but I brushed them aside, fully engrossed in my plans. I continued to pack for the short trip to the old house, unfazed by the tales of vampires that swirled around the town. I had always been the type to believe that everything had a rational explanation, dismissing the gossip and hearsay surrounding these legends. My rucksack was filled with only the basics: some food, a sleeping bag, and necessities for the journey ahead. The house had been abandoned for years, ever since the original owners mysteriously vanished, but I refused to let those wild stories sway my determination.

As daylight waned, I approached the rusty old gates of the Catholic convent, pushing them open despite the loud creaking sound that echoed through the stillness. Entering the overgrown courtyard, I took a moment to wipe the sweat from my brow and gaze upward at the dark, tiled roof. Just then, I caught a glimpse of what seemed like a fleeting movement. Was it real, or merely a trick of the fading light? Shaking off any notions of paranoia, I slipped my cap back on and approached the front door, hopeful that it might offer entry. However, it was locked, forcing me to search for an alternative way in.

After some time and effort, I managed to scramble over a wall beside the building and found myself in a small, neglected graveyard. This had to be the resting place of the nuns, I thought. With the daylight quickly dimming, I made my way through the thick grass and bushes, climbing over yet another wall. I pulled a torch from the side pocket of my rucksack, illuminating my surroundings. Directly ahead, I spotted a wooden door and trudged through the overgrown grass to reach it. I grasped the doorknob, but it refused to move. Determined, I lifted my leg and kicked the door next to the knob. With a splintering crack, the door flew wide open.

As it swung open, a musty, stale smell filled the air, a scent that hinted at years of neglect. I raised my torch and scanned the room, noting that nothing appeared particularly out of the ordinary at first glance. I cautiously closed the door behind me, stepping into what looked like an old kitchen. A long wooden table dominated the centre of the floor, surrounded by four rickety stools. To the left, a fireplace stood alongside a cooking stove and a cupboard, all remnants of a bygone era waiting for someone to uncover their stories.

My name is Jeremiah Strange. My first encounter with the vampire of the Holy Rosary took place in what I initially believed to be a mere dream. However, I should have known better because I experienced the unmistakable sensation of the immortal kiss of a vampire. It was a feeling that left an indelible mark on me. I was bitten, but strangely, it wasn’t painful. Instead, it felt almost seductive, a love bite that carried a deadly allure. This peculiar experience occurred over three consecutive nights while I was staying at the Railway Hotel, which is situated at the bottom end of Mill Street, close to the railway station in the heart of a small market town nestled within the mountains.

As I wandered through the town, one place always gave me an uneasy feeling—the old, derelict Catholic Church. I could never quite pinpoint why I disliked it, but there were secrets lurking within its walls, something I could sense each time I passed by, especially when walking through the old playground on my way to visit a friend. No one wanted to discuss the church it was almost as if mentioning it brought an eerie hush over the conversation. The whispers of those who dared to speak about it drifted through the broken stained glass windows, hinting at the many stories that circulated about the building being haunted.

One night, as I lay awake, the incessant ticking of the clock felt like it was echoing loudly in my ear, pulling me out of my recurring nightmare. I had never considered myself a superstitious person, but there were moments when I couldn’t dismiss the idea that some things might be more than mere coincidences. This feeling intensified when I found myself staring at an old photograph of Mill Street in Cannock. At first glance, the photograph seemed ordinary, depicting a young boy walking past a shop while glancing over his shoulder at something. This sight, while common, quickly turned unsettling. Something about this particular boy struck me as unusual he appeared frightened. Frightened of what—or who? My curiosity about this photograph began to deepen. Why was the picture taken? What was it capturing?

A follower can take many forms it doesn’t always have to be something visible or loud. But trust me, it’s there, lurking in the shadows. And do you know how I realised this? You can smell them—the horrible stench of rotting flesh and decay.

It must have been around three in the morning when I woke up in a hot panic for the third night in succession. My room felt freezing, yet I was drenched in sweat as if I had a fever. The only thing I could recall from this recurring nightmare was being a young boy in a street, sensing a presence behind me, and that awful stench invading my nostrils. That smell was always there, a constant reminder of something sinister. Stumbling out of bed, I grabbed a greasy glass that had clearly gone unwashed for days and made my way to the dripping tap to get a drink of water. Shivering from the cold, I noticed that my pyjamas were soaked through with sweat. I stripped them off and tossed them into the washing basket. Each time I had this dream, the details became sharper, and I started to recognise places and faces within it. I was always that young boy, navigating a street I could never identify, perpetually aware of being followed. It was a classic nightmare scenario, but the reality was chilling. This presence was becoming increasingly relentless, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it off. Each time I turned around to confront whatever it was, it remained just a blur, out of focus. Why couldn’t I see it? It baffled me, but the scent was undeniable—horrible and familiar. I had encountered it before, but I couldn’t recall where. It followed me relentlessly, so much so that people began to notice and distance themselves from me, unable to tolerate the stench any longer. I knew I had to put an end to whatever was pursuing me.

Determined to unravel this mystery, I decided to keep a pencil and paper by my bedside. If the nightmare struck again and I managed to remember anything more, I could jot it down and piece together the fragments of my dream. Up to that point, the details had been murky, but I was desperate to gain clarity.

Houses with high walls hide dark secrets. The convent of the Holy Rosary near Cannock was hiding a very dark secret. It hid a vampire. Which nobody knew existed until I followed it back to its resting place. It was allowed out at night to feed on the local farm animals and wildlife but it was never allowed to feed on humans. Although that’s what the other nuns believed. It was one of their kin who travelled extensively throughout Europe and had been bitten and never recovered. Or so they thought. But she did and returned to the nunnery next to Saint Mary’s the old Catholic school which is now derelict. Or so I thought. But the school hid a dark secret and I intended to find out what it was. If I’d have had any sense, I wouldn’t have gone up there. I heard the warning but ignored it. I carried on packing for the short journey up the hill to the old house. I wasn’t going to be deterred by those stupid stories of vampires. I was somebody who believed that everything could be explained but not in tittle-tattle and hearsay. I hadn’t packed anything special in my rucksack. A little bit of food, my sleeping bag, and a few essentials. The house had been boarded up for the last few years as the original owners had all mysteriously disappeared but I didn’t believe the rumours and I wasn’t going to start now. It was getting late as I walked up to the rusty old gates of the old Catholic Convent and pushed them open. They made a loud creaking sound as I walked into the overgrown courtyard. I took my cap off and wiped my brow. I looked up at the dark tiled roof. I thought I saw a slight movement but I couldn’t be sure. I could see there were a couple of tiles missing and suddenly I thought I saw something again but it could have been the fading light playing tricks on me. It was probably a trick of the light, I thought to myself as I put my cap back on and walked up to the front door hoping that I would be able to get in but no such luck. It was locked so I had to find another way in. I managed to scramble over the wall at the side of the building and found myself in a very small overgrown graveyard. It must have been where they buried the nuns I thought to myself. The daylight was fading as I pushed my way through the overgrown grass and bushes and over the next wall. I pulled the torch out of the side pocket of my rucksack and looked around. There was a wooden door straight ahead of me so I waded through the tall heavy grass as best I could and tried to turn the doorknob. It wouldn’t budge. I lifted my leg and gave it a short sharp kick next to the doorknob. It splintered and the door flew wide open. I immediately noticed the musty smell of a building that hadn’t been lived in for a while wafting out as the door burst open. I lifted my torch and looked around the room. There was nothing especially unusual that I could immediately see so I closed the door behind me and started to look around. It was an old kitchen. There was a long table in the middle of the floor with four old wooden stools. On the left-hand side of the kitchen, there was a fireplace, a cooking stove, and a cupboard. The fireplace was remarkably clean and had been prepared to be lit but there was nobody there. So I dropped my rucksack on the long oak kitchen table. I needed to find some candles so I could see what he was doing. Surely I had some candles! I said to myself as I opened what looked like a pantry door. I could immediately smell rotting food which made me feel nauseous but I managed to stop myself from being sick. I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket had a rummage around and found an unopened box of candles and matches. My luck’s in, I thought as I set one up on one of the candles on the kitchen table and lit it. The candle had lit up the whole room so he could see more clearly. Then I lit the fire which had been so carefully prepared, sat on one of the stools, and warmed myself. I hesitated before deciding what to do next. It wasn’t like me but I was reluctant to go any further. I could sense there was something but I wasn’t sure. And I was starting to think that maybe I had been a bit too quick to try and prove people wrong. There was no such thing as vampires. It was just a myth. I hoped. But I knew that the only way I could dispel all the scaremongers and rumours about the place was to spend a night there and that’s what I intended to do. I picked up my torch had a quick look around the room, grabbed a handful of spare candles and the matches, and opened the inside kitchen door into the convent itself preparing for what might lie ahead. I was starting to feel as if I had made a big mistake and the only way I could make sure it wasn’t true was to look at myself. I closed the kitchen door behind me and shined my torch into the pitch-black ahead. I edged forward. I lit a candle every fifteen paces I took one of the candles I had in my pocket and lit it, stuck with a bit of hot wax to the floor so that if I had to make a hasty exit at least I would know in which direction to go. I’d started to mumble to myself without realizing it as I edged my way into the pitch-black the same thing over and over again There is no such thing as vampires, there are no such things as vampires. My heart started to pump a bit faster and it was slowly sinking into his thick skull that this might be the stupidest decision I had ever made. Who in their right mind would spend a night voluntarily alone without any form of protection and any means of help in a rickety old house that was potentially full of blood-lusting vampires? But I kept slowly edging forward and lighting a candle as I went along. What I didn’t know was that behind me each candle that I had lit was slowly going out.
I had reached the end of a long corridor. Right in front of me was a big set of double doors one of which were partially open. I thought that it must be the entrance into the larger chamber because the air was getting colder. But the air wasn’t getting colder in front of me. It was getting colder behind. I started to feel an icy chill on the back of my neck and something instinctively told me that I had to get out of there as quickly as possible. Right now. But before I ran I needed to know what was behind me before I made my move. No, I reasoned now wasn’t the time for being a hero. I had to get out of there and I had to get out now and slam the big door shut and hope there was a bolt or key or something I could use to lock it from the other side. But I had to know what I was running from. Move. Move now, I said to myself and scrambled through the partially closed door and tried to shut it. I’d dropped my torch while I was squeezing through the door but fortunately, I had dropped it on my side. I put my full body weight against it and pushed as hard as I could but it didn’t move. It hadn’t moved an inch and suddenly I had the strangest feeling that something was on the other side of the door. I could hear the sound of fingernails scratching down the door. I had to make a decision. Was I going to run not knowing what the hell I would be running into or was I going to keep pushing the door and hope it would shut? I decided on the latter gave it one big shove and it slammed too. I could still hear scratching the other side of the door so I picked the torch up off the floor and looked around. I nearly jumped out of my skin when a deep but calm voice came from behind me.
You’re a lucky man my friend I’ve seen many bitten in that situation.
Who the hell are you? I said in an alarmed voice raising my torch to the stranger’s face.
I’m a hunter from Europe and I’ve been tracking this particular Vampire for quite some time. and you have been very fortunate because in a few more seconds you’d have been yet another Follower. A shadow in the night. An unbeliever. A lost soul.
Things like that don’t exist, I said in defiance.
The fact of the matter is I happen to know they do, he said knowingly. Anyway, I followed you up from the village.
What do you mean by that? I replied in uncompromising defiance.
A Follower! he said raising his soft-sounding voice so as not to attract too much attention. If you accept that fact you might just stay alive just long enough to get out of here, he replied.
OK say that is the case and I will still have to see one with my own eyes to believe it, he replied.
Oh, you will my friend don’t you worry about that before the night is over, all you’ve got to do is pray that it doesn’t see you.
The hunter grabbed him by the arm and ushered them into a small room with a grill through which you could look into the main hall without being seen. Right listen to me and listen very carefully. This is its final resting place the only place it has ever known so don’t move a muscle and don’t make a sound otherwise we will never get out of this alive.