The marshfield vampire, p.1
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       The Marshfield Vampire, p.1

           John Mc Caffrey
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The Marshfield Vampire

  Copyright © 2013 by John Mc Caffrey

  First Edition, 2013

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people or events are purely coincidental. All right reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without the express written consent of the author.


  The Marshfield Vampire


  John Mc Caffrey

  As improbable as it might sound, I found a vampire hiding under my back stair last month. It wasn’t the ‘Count’ type of vampire all silken caped, sporting coat and tails dressed for the bleeding opera, nor was it the gossamer clad, pale skinned buxom wench variety either. It was more of the Renfield type, fly eating and slobbering, pathetic and all together bothersome sort.

  I would not have even noticed the poor bastard there had it not been for its infernal gibbering and yammering as it spoke to its bloody self through the thin wood surrounding the stairs as I passed.

  “Here now!” I said, at the time unaware of what had surreptitiously slipped under my stairs, “What’s this noise then?”

  The whining continued unabated as if I had said not a word. Unintelligible it was, more of a wet throaty sound than speech.

  “And who’s under me stair then, making such a racket as to scare away decent folks as they go about their business?” I asked louder when my first question went unanswered. I had my rake in hand, for I had been planning on working in the flowerbeds for my wife, Stella, who had nagged me the whole bleeding morning until I agreed more to be away from her than anything else, may the blight take her tongue and rot it off. A more inhospitable and miserable creature does not exist than my wife Stella. Where she walks the Devil himself avoids lest she corners him and proceeds to tell him how to run Hades.

  I brandished my rake before me as I walked to the entry just to the left of the stairs. I could see right off that the small padlock was missing and the flimsy door stood open a fraction.

  “Come out now and show yourself or I will come down there to drag you out!” I said bravely with the rake held firmly in my grip, one eye upon the open yard gate lest my bravado failed to intimidate whoever it was under there and I needed to make a hasty retreat. Better part of valor and all.

  I placed one of the tines of the rake upon the partially open door and pulled it all the way to, trying to peer into the darkness. Whoever was inside scurried back deeper into the gloom. The frantic banter it was having with itself increased in volume as it moved. It spat and hissed, grumbled and groaned and made an awful row, startling me and causing me to back away lest it come racing out to do battle with me, rake and all.

  After my initial start, I wondered what it might be. A child I thought at the time, for I doubted that a full-grown man could fit under there. It was full of boxes and chairs, this and that and a great deal of the other. All in all that which one collects over the years and can’t seem to part with. The domain of spider webs and beetles, dead dry moths and ants that march to and fro and little in the way of room for anyone too large.

  Bother this nonsense!

  “Come out from under there, or I will sic the dogs upon you!” Which I ever so hoped I wouldn't have to do since the only dog we had was Stella’s dog ‘Muffin’ who weighed less than a wet dish rag and startled its own self when it barked. However it had a temperament to match Herself, and nipped at my heels whenever Stella raised her voice to me, which was often, may her accursed tongue draw the lightning from the sky to fuse her lips tight.

  “Go away and leave me be,” my mysterious guest finally hissed, its voice sounding like dry brown leaves blowing across the sidewalk, “and shut that bleeding door!”

  Ho-ho! I thought, shut me own door to me own crawl space under me own stairs will I?

  Cheeky bastard!

  Now I got mad. I might take that off the wretch that I married, may her black tongue contract the plague and wither, but I will not take it from anyone else, least of all some neighborhood hooligan (as I began to suspect at the time).

  “We shall see who gives the orders around here mate!” I said as I got down on my hands and knees to crawl into the dark space and shag the little bastard out. The smell of must and mildew, earth and mold greeted me as I stuck head and shoulders within the opening, rake in front of me. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom from the bright sunshine without, but I could see well enough to notice the little shit in the furthest most corner away from where I was. A neighbor kid I thought for sure, most likely the Jennings whelp from down the road, all mischievous and sneaky, trying to hide from the police for whatever his latest felony was.

  As I had at last made up my mind that it was in fact the Jennings brat come seeking refuge amongst the shadows of my porch, I tried to reach inside and snatch the little bastard by his outstretched leg. Just before I could grab it the thing saw what I was about to do and drew its leg up and out of my reach. It hissed and spat, cursed and yammered all the more now that I was inside with it.

  I drew back, realizing this was not the Jennings spawn after all. I stared from foot to head at him as my eyes adjusted more, I could see clearly what it was. A vampire! Under my bloody stairs!

  It was all pale and yellow eyed, hair straggly and dusty with the smell of its rank breath beginning to overpower even the mustiness of the crawlspace. Little more was it dressed in than an old under shirt that might have been a lesser shade of grime at one time, and ripped and tattered jeans that any half-wit teenager could be seen wearing in town. It bared its teeth at me and hissed in its best Hammer Films pose, elongated fangs and retracted tongue meant to send me packing.

  Bugger me!

  “Get your things and get yourself gone or I will be dragging you out of here, got it?” I was mad now, no rude Lugosi wanna-be was going to be hissing at me like some over-grown tabby cat and think to send me running like I was some candy arse.

  “Come inside here and I might be dealing with you in a way you may not like,” said my unwanted new lodger, trying to sound mysterious and dark. Well I know a thing or two about vampires and one of the things I know is they are none too fond of sun bathing.

  “Right!” I said as I backed out of the confines of the space.

  “’Tis myself that put up this plywood around the porch for me dear sweet Stella, may her tongue be consumed by the acid it generates, and to be sure I can take it back down from out here now can’t I, ‘Mister Smart Guy Vampire’?”

  He hissed again at me but didn’t sound so menacing now that he looked around and seen what I said was true. The plywood ran the length of the space he was under and it would only take me a moment to pull the flimsy boards down.

  “Wait!” he said, the voice much different now from the one he had used only moments ago. “Please good sir, let me rest here for the day and I will be on my way come nightfall and you will never see me again.” It pleaded now, for it knew I could give it a quick sunburn if I chose to.

  “And why might I be wanting to do that? I can’t abide by you lot running around terrorizing the countryside, biting good God fearing folk and making a general nuisance of yourselves.”

  “Please,” he pleaded, “to be sure I couldn’t make it home before dawn and only looked for a spot to hide away from, you know,” he said as he pointed from the gloom in the general direction of the sun.

  I had to admit that I felt sorry for the bastard now that he had stopped all the hissing and spitting and trying to act all sinister. He seemed a likeable enough sort, if a little pale. He took note of my softening and smiled his best smile, hiding away his long canines within his mouth and clasping his bony hands together. I wrinkled my brow and thought it over.

  “Why y
ou in this area at all mate?” I asked him, “vampires ain’t exactly welcome here in Brandenville.”

  “Ah to be sure I am from a ways over in Marshfield,” he replied. “Only got out this way for the pickings by me are getting slim. All I can get lately is rats and the occasional alley cat and that's if I'm lucky. Over here now, well,” he shrugged his bony shoulders.

  “I had hoped for a bit more if you catch me drift. But I ran out of time didn’t I? The bleeding sun came up and I had to crawl all sneaky like to the fist place I could find.” He finished and looked down at the ground between his knees.

  “Let me stay mate, aye?” he went on, “I won’t be harming anything and I'll be on me way as soon as its dark. What do you say?”

  I frowned at him as I squatted there
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