October 8th

Marcus awoke and looked outside the window. It was a wonderful day outside. The cool, overcast weather felt perfect. He hated the hot summer, and this time of year, when the crisp, fall season arrived, it always brought a smile. He pulled on a long sleeve shirt and pants, stepped into his shoes, grabbed a black cap, and slipped on some gloves. When he opened the front door and stepped out, he put on his sunglasses and walked. He smelled the autumn air, with the colored leaves on the ground and the carved pumpkins on the doorsteps.

He headed to the main part of town, nodding at people whom he recognized but knew would never recall where they had seen him before. He sat at a coffee shop and ordered his hot beverage, black. Staring out the window, lost in his thoughts, he found his eyes wandering over to the pretty waitress who always tried to hide her injuries in shame. Her face was never marked, but he could see the finger bruises on her arms, noticed when she winced on particular days from bending over too quickly and hurting from a cracked rib. Marcus didn’t have any particular feelings towards this woman one way or another. This was impossible for him. He had no true emotions anymore. Those had left him long ago. He did have a problem with her situation, however, or more particularly, the man causing her harm. It was an act he considered particularly rude. He left his coffee on the table untouched with a twenty dollar bill beneath the saucer.

When he walked on the sidewalk, the clouds parted slightly and the sunlight fell onto his cheek. The skin hissed and smoked before he ducked into an alleyway. A teenage boy stared at him. The man lowered his sunglasses and stared into the eyes of the young lad. After a second, the boy walked away in confusion.

Back in his neighborhood, Marcus smiled at the pumpkins and decorations. Reaching his own house, he saw a surprise waiting for him. A pumpkin with a menacing smile stared at him as it sat on the balcony railing of his front porch. The skin on the teeth was peeled off, making them look light yellow in contrast with the orange shell. They were square teeth with the exception of two incisors extended twice as long and coming to a point.

Inside the house, the lights were dim. He closed all the windows and lowered the blinds. A door in the kitchen led to the basement. The man descended the steps slowly. He snapped his fingers and the lights downstairs burst to life, showing a white room, almost completely empty with the exception of a man dangling upside down, his feet chained and secured to the ceiling. Beneath him was a huge basin with a hole in the center, leading to a steel barrel.

"I saw her today," Marcus said. "She doesn't even realize you've gone missing. How many drunken nights have you had in the past where you didn't come home?"

The man spit at Marcus's face, but he reached his hand and caught the phlegm, then wiped this onto the man's shirt.

"Rude to the very end," Marcus said before smiling and showing his sharpened fangs. "You know, I'm not a biter. Never have enjoyed it much. It's like sucking through a skinny straw. Do you prefer drinking your beer through a straw or from a mug?"

The man didn't answer. Marcus leaned forward and looked into his eyes.

"You'll never touch her again."

He sliced open the man's jugular with razor sharp fingernails. The blood poured down in a flood, filling the basin and drizzling into the barrel beneath. At the bottom of the barrel was a spigot. Marcus opened the valve, filled an ancient looking goblet with the thick, red drink, and took a sip.

"I should have known your blood would taste like shit," he said after he swallowed.

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