The old house stood abandoned at the top of the hill overlooking the town of Mills Junction. For as long as I could recall, it had been an imposing monument to a by-gone day. Even from a distance, the weather faded Vasquez House looked as though it couldn't withstand another spring season of wind and rain or the heavy snowfalls we experienced during the long winter months. Still, it remained perched upon it's precipice year upon year.
The children of Mills Junction all knew the house was haunted. When Halloween rolled around, they dared each other to run up the weed infested hill to bang on the door as loudly as they could. A few of them made it up onto the rickety front porch while others refused to go near the place. The high school youths took up the challenge to stay the night although none of them actually remained inside from dusk to dawn.
When Ramon Vasquez moved in was a mystery that set tongues wagging all about the town. One day he simply appeared out of nowhere and moved into that dilapidated old house up on the hill. He quickly became the town enigma. Who was he? Where did he come from? everybody wanted to know. Afternoon chit-chat flourished in the Coffee Cup—the Main Street afternoon gathering point where the primary fare of the day was a latte, freshly baked danish and local gossip.
The first time I noticed Ramon, he was wrapped in shadow. Tall with a slim build, he stood at a distance in studious repose. It was on a Thursday, the night of the weekly town block party. Main Street was shutdown to traffic so small businesses could set up booths to sell their wares and food trucks could offer tasty treats. Nearly the entire community showed up to the popular gathering. I arrived early with my long time beau, Ogilvie Thornton, but my attention was immediately drawn to the man in shadow.
I have to admit I was curious about Ramon. Already a thought was forming in my mind to meet him, to get to know him. It was part of my nature to probe into the deepest reaches of a stranger's personality. "You don't have to know everything about a person," O-Gee warned me time and again. O-Gee—that's what everyone called Ogilvie—was an introvert; he was skeptical of new people and new experiences. Being extroverted myself, I often wondered why I found him so attractive. We had met in high school when the math teacher assigned him to help me with my algebra and started dating as a result. We were both twenty-five now and still seeing each other as a steady couple. Old habits are hard to break, I kept telling myself, as I continued to go out with him. But, to be completely honest, he was wearing thin with me. I longed for someone new and exciting—not an old hometown boy.
Perhaps that was why I was attracted to Ramon Vasquez. He represented that "someone new and exciting" I had been longing for. Even before I had my first glimpse of him, he fascinated me. When his name was mentioned about town, my ears picked up for even the slightest piece of information. "He is some sort of distant relative of Emil Vasquez," May Belle Warren stated to Camille Bledsoe as she reached up to take her burrito from the Taco Truck Vendor. "I hear he came from Europe; Eastern Europe, I believe. Or perhaps it was Spain. Oh dear, I don't rightly recall but something like that." Standing behind the two widowed companions, I eagerly caught every word. Hurriedly I ordered my taco salad then glanced about to see if Ramon was still in sight. If he were still in the shadows, I didn't notice him, but Ogilvie saw where I focused my attention.
"Mind your business, Misty Martin," O-Gee whispered, his lips close to my ear. Taking the offered tray from the Taco Vendor, he headed toward the array of picnic tables set up in the middle of the street. Placing the tray on an empty table, he sat down while I took the bench across from him. "If this fellow wanted to make our acquaintance, he would join the party. I expect he's shy and, being new around here, doesn't want to make a spectacle of himself by sauntering through the crowd. All eyes will turn on him and tongues will wag. Let him introduce himself in his own way." Picking up his taco, Ogilvie took a loud crunching bite to close the subject.
Here we go, disagreeing again, I thought as I poked my fork through my taco salad. Ogilvie could really get on my nerves sometimes. He never wanted to do the things I wanted to do, always found a reason to put my ideas down. Taking a sip from my bottle of Corona, I contemplated the many ways I could break up with him. I should say it right out then get up and leave him. But, my, how the town gossips would enjoy a public display of love gone wrong. They'd been waiting long enough for us to announce that wedding bells would soon ring. A sudden break up would really set them on their ears.
Well, I determined, right then and there, that I was going to introduce myself to Ramon Vasquez the next time I saw him. I had a special spot in my heart for small children, animals and those who get lost in crowds. Many times a shy person had been enticed into a group with just a small word of encouragement. Ramon was about to become my special project. I was going to introduce him into the community. Perhaps I would go even further than that. I could finally ditch Ogilvie Thornton and find that new romance I was looking for in the arms of the tall stranger who had just arrived in town.
In the days following the block party, I came close to running into Ramon but never quite close enough to make an introduction. Always remaining in the evening shadows, he would disappear as soon as I headed in his direction. When I took Pepper, my dachshund, for his nightly walks, my footsteps invariably took me toward the Vasquez house. Perched on the hill outside town, it was an imposing sight, particularly after darkness fell. I wondered how the young man lived in there with no electricity and no running water. How did he eat? Could he sleep comfortably amongst the creaks and groans of the old house? Perhaps a woman's touch would bring the old place back to life.
Often I found myself daydreaming about what I would do with the place if it were mine. Perhaps together Ramon and I could fix it up. A new coat of paint, the lawn manicured, and a garden planted where only weeds thrived; the inside fully redecorated with antique furniture and new carpeting. I was beginning to enjoy the idea. That new, Ogilvie free life was beckoning me in my fantasies. But I had yet to meet the elusive Ramon.
Last night, I noticed Ramon lurking in the park as I passed with Pepper. As much as the word lurking troubled my mind, there was no other word I could use to describe his actions. Despite the deep growl from the little dachshund at the end of his leash, I shrugged aside the strange feeling that overcame me and ventured in his direction with the leash gripped firmly in my gloved hand.
"Ramon," I called his name into the darkness. "I'm Misty. Misty Martin. I wanted to say hi, introduce myself. Maybe we can be friends." At my feet, Pepper's growls deepened then became whines of despair. I was too engulfed in my anxiety to meet the stranger to take note of my pet's sudden distress. Had I paid better attention, perhaps things would have turned out differently.
Silence stood ominously in the park as my eyes roamed the familiar surroundings. I could still sense the presence of someone close by but couldn't pierce the darkness enough to make out a form. Tentatively I took another step forward hoping for a glimpse of the person I felt was close by. In a moment, I would give up and take Pepper back home. I could catch up with Ramon on another day.
As I turned to leave, a feeling a utter coldness fell upon me. Darkness, darker than the park at night, engulfed me. A figure, tall and menacing, loomed in front of me, the face a death pale oval with startling blood red lips parted just enough to show protruding ivory fangs. "Savor the Bite," Ramon hissed into my ear as I felt the prick of teeth penetrating my neck. My entire body relaxed as I fell against the inviting form of my attacker. Retreating into the distance, the distressed yapping of a small dog echoed across the darkened park. The word "pepper" entered my mind, then it was gone as was everything else in my old life.
Now I walk in the nighttime too; now I hover in the shadows. The subcellar of the Vasquez house is where Ramon and I sleep during the daytime; we prowl at night, each seeking the lifegiving blood that keeps us afloat through in our dreamlike existence. Often I find myself hovering outside the window of Ogilvie Thornton's bedroom window, a great desire to feed upon him but I hesitate. I am free of O-Gee and the old boring life of a hometown girl. It wasn't the life I had dreamed of in my fantasies but it was a different life, that's for sure.
