𝐋𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗

𝐉𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔

𝐉𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔 spent some days away from underground business affairs to reminisce about his father.

He was not one who always took fancy recalling the past however... This place was special. The times spent training or tenderizing the meats with their bare fists as they hung from metal wire on the ceiling were enough to bring out emotions. With his index finger, he wiped the tear away and made steps cautiously from the innermost part of the venue and into the manor. Sniffing the air, his nostrils took in the scent of a human which made him ponder...

'What would a mortal be doing here?'
he thought.

The sun had started to set along the horizon signaling shadows of the night to come play. Jethro levitated into the air with his arms at either side. Hearing the echoing sounds of footsteps through the halls and the constant two to three second noises of a camera's shutter speed before he appeared in front of her; behind him the bygone 17th century decorative woodwork showcasing around a large dusty mirror. He felt a tickle of pain across his front half, predominantly within his chest as a thin layer of smoke started to seep from beneath the clothing upon his undead flesh.

It left a minor burn wound before disappearing.

Jethro grew annoyed at such little trinkets and things that the new technological age brought forth. Cameras were merely on of the reasons why portraits looked realistic in capturing a person's image but not their soul. Arguably, he was too old-fashioned. Taking the device from her hands with a swift motion, his feet had finally managed to touch the floors surface."This thing, they are so much more advanced! Why, I remember when the first Kodaks had been released to the public."His voice was stern yet deep, possessing a rather romantic quality amidst its tone.

"What are you doing here?" he sighed.

"Don't tell me you're one of those crooked beings who worship demons or praise the dark arts, such practices are foolish!" Jethro was not worried in the least of his discovery. For all that she knew... people would deem "𝖍𝖊𝖗" crazy for even the thought of a vampire existing. Up until now, the world of the damned and forsaken had remained a secret to the rest of modern society. Thanks to major motion pictures and Hollywood, truth was hidden... Forever exponentially fictitious — not that he had too much to complain about by means of that matter. Even he had to say in proper justification, moving pictures were and even to this day remained better to him than those that were stills of the digital age.

He held the camera out for her to take after he finished examining it.

"I'll tell you right now my reflection isn't going to show up. State your business and perhaps, I'll be nice to stage your death as an accident?" It was a threat, one he would fulfill lightly. This place meant that much to him, that he would keep humans out permanently. Allison had stumbled back after seeing a black layer of smoke that emerged from whatever stood before her. She continued to gawk with her mouth still agape, shaking.

The words fumbling out with each hard stutter thereafter.

"H-How did you — ?!" She began to speak but saw that whatever it was had healed, smoke dissipating before her eyes...

"Just what and who the Hell are you?!" Allison questioned as 𝖎𝖙 took her camera away. It couldn't have been a human; their deep crimson red eyes proved otherwise... More profoundly, how could it appear in front of the staircase levitating?

'That couldn't be possible... or could it?'
she thought.

"N-No, you don't have to do that!" She addressed it back in sudden retaliation after hearing what it had said about staging her death in a passive aggressive manner.

"I swear, I only came here to take photos for my class on accord of my professor. She told me to come here and take pictures! Whoever are whatever you are... Please, I'm begging you. Don't kill me!" Allison pleaded as her heartbeat increased rapidly. Stumbling backward, trying to stay as far away from the possible man or whatever it was. A shiver traveled up her spine, making her body tremble further into fear. Jethro's eyes pierced through her, as if he had taken a knife directly to her soul.

"How I can do such things as well as who I am is of no importance to you, I'm sure. You came here because someone else told you to do so?!" He questioned her. Now, he was more annoyed than he had been before. His right brow arched, the red of his eyes glowing in the shadows of the dark room before stepping in the moonlight that had peeked through defining his tall broad figure. He wore a stunning fitted suit. The slacks and blazer were both a true black which were paired perfectly to serenade the shimmering details of gold thread amongst his red metallic lame material dress shirt. As neither a prince nor pauper, Jethro took a great deal to the liking within his health and hygiene as much as his own decadent wardrobe.

"So, if this professor of yours told you to jump off a bridge, would you do that too?" He spoke bluntly in retort, it was nerve-wracking to fathom such mortals would act out of stupidity lacking even the slightest bit of respect to read and follow the no trespassing signs had been placed around the property.

"On second thought, don't even answer that question. I fear it doesn't quite matter what you would do given the situation you're in currently." Jethro had in such time managed to walk closer — close enough that when she stumbled back, he laughed.

"Why, you're like a puppet! A dense, dim-witted, feeble-minded vacuous puppet. Tell me girl, where are your strings? Surely, you must have some, no?!" he paused and laughed again, only this time his laughter was so loud and abrasive that it sent echoes throughout the halls of the factories manor. The leftover crows found their way out of the chimney in the distant kitchen area, frightened like she had been. It was clearly written all over her face — body trembling... spine-tingling... Jethro lifted his hands in front of her and no sooner had he done so, she was levitated two feet into the air.

"Here in Italy, we have this story about a little wooden boy who thinks he's actually a real one. Perhaps you may have heard of it? Little Pinocchio, yes?!" He mentioned the fairytale as his fingers moved around like a puppeteer. Of course, there were no actual strings but that made it all the more fun.

"Come now, little puppet dance! Dance! Dance! Dance!" He shouted amused and enthusiastic as a smirk curled between his lips. "Sing! Sing, little puppet!" The vampire twitched his fingers giving Allisons' jaw movement. Back down the stairs like a puppet she went. The same doors she entered through would be her exit. They quickly swung open on either side as the moonlight cascaded in from the main foyer.

"And now my little puppet, the time has come for your finale... Bravo!" Jethro gestured his hands gracefully until Allison had walked step by step outside. "If I ever see you come back to this place again, you'll actually be my puppet." He terrorized her for the last time before the doors slammed shut, latches locked.

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