Death of a Vampire

Dunkan was born and raised in the grand Victorian style mansion, built by his father, hundreds of years ago. In the mid 1800’s Dunkan had a wing constructed in the back of the mansion. This now served as his private quarters. A heavy wooden door separated his wing from the rest of the house. It stayed locked by many catches and dead bolts, and Dunkan carried the only key. At the same time, he had the lowest level of the mansion renovated into a vast dungeon. He could slip unnoticed between his private rooms and the dungeon. It enslaved humans, keeping his blood-lust satisfied. Being a vampire had its advantages, and with dark hair and a husky body, he never looked his true age of 163.

Inside, the house was mostly quiet. The servants were never around in the evening. Mice scurryed about inside the walls. Most of the décor was set back in the late 1700’s, although, modern conveniences had been installed; like electricity and indoor plumbing.

It was early evening, the summer sun sat close to the horizon. The land had not seen rain in weeks. The grass was turning yellowish-brown, and the tree branches were losing their leaves. The hot wind blew the crisp brown leaves around the yard. The gate rattled against the white picket fence. Shutters banged from the window to the blue exterior of the house.

It all started because of the faulty wiring, sparks flew from an outlet next to a downstairs window. The old dusty curtains were quickly engulfed in flames, and soon they leapt at the ceiling. Smoke billowed up and out the cracks in the windows. The fire swept through the mansion swiftly consuming everything in its path.

Dunkan was asleep in his rooms. His bedroom did not have any windows. As the flames burned through the walls, heavy smoke filled his room. The flames licked through his wooden coffin burning him alive. He woke covered in flames, and jumped from the burning box crying out in pain as the flames melted his flesh. He flew around the room trying to douse the flames, and flung himself against the buring walls. Then he realized that he was trapped.

Within hours, the beautiful Victorian mansion was gone. Nothing was left but the foundations. After the fire burned itself out, a bright green cicada fluttered by and landed on a nearby tree. His transparent wings caressed together as he chirped.

The wind began blowing the ashes away. Soon it uncovered the only remains of Dunkan, his fangs and chain around his neck.