Lost Vampire On Christmas

End and beginnig

There were some lingering people, cornered in a small patio surrounded by Christmas lights and a beautifully decorated tree.

A man with a kind face and a dark complexion is relaxing in a chair, drinking hot chocolate. He waits for everyone to sit down.

And he begins his story.

"Every year, on the 23rd of December, we enjoy particularly beautiful weather. Most of the time, we experience a lot of blizzards, snow, and rain. It is a small town, that spends most of the year in the twilight.

One of the extraordinary things about this place is that everyone is involved in some performing arts.

You might say, how is it that everyone in the whole village is an artist? Everything begins as a mysterious old legend. You see, this used to be a mining town, but after several tragic accidents, people decided to move on to other things.

But that was not the case at the time of the events.

It was a beautiful night as a handsome creature with beautiful dark skin, tall and slender, with a tailored suit of red with exquisite white accents adorning his silhouette, graced the humble town, startling everyone in his way.

The creature walked briskly among the people, carrying a briefcase in one hand and a single black rose in the other. The face of our creature is serious, gaze fixed on a single target, the house of the only unmarried girl who was a singer.

A rare thing to find when the mines were still working.

With his eyes fixed on the road, he hurried along. The locals knew him, of course, but he hadn't set foot in the village for years.

One day, the creature left, telling everyone it was going to the city to make a lot of money and that it would be back soon enough. But four years passed, and sadly, people believed it was death.

A man with blue eyes, dressed in a brown hat and old funeral attire, was waiting for the creature at the bottom of the stairs. His face was sad and tired. He had a burden on his back and a letter in his hands.

Nothing happens in this town.

So when a new occurrence agitates the locals, the entire place falls silent.

The man raised his hand and stopped the creature before it entered the house.

"When you promised to return for her, none of us doubted you." His voice sounded hollow as if he wasn't used to speaking more than necessary. "None of us thought it would take you so long to return."

He held out his trembling hands and handed the letter to the creature.

"She made a promise. It was supposed to be a joke!" The sound of his laughter was painful, the bitterness consuming him. "She said she wouldn't sing again unless you came back."

The creature remained still, the wind agitating its long cape. Perhaps the being imagined such a thing, though it should have no way of knowing.

He looked down at the letter and took it between his gloved fingers.

The white surface, showed off the handwriting of the woman he had missed so much.

The love of his life.

"How long ago?" Its voice was strong and icy, like when the earth thunders, like when you feel the first snowflakes.

The man put his hands behind his back. Heading back inside the house, he says, "This morning".

Nothing more to say. There was only one place she could be.

The creature looked to his left to that meadow full of sadness, like the bird that does not yet know how to navigate the skies.

With long strides, it made its way to her resting place, the locals keeping out of its way out of respect, no one daring to speak.

Since that day, every 23rd of December, a black rose appears at the resting place of the Singing Maiden.

And in honor of the lost lovers, the locals "made Art their life."

The people were deep in thought, analyzing the story. Only one person seemed more focused on the man as if she were trying to read his mind. A young red-haired girl with bright green eyes raised her hand.

"Why do you call him a creature? It seems like you are describing a vampire. Doesn't he have a name?" Her question comes out harsher than planned. Everyone is now looking at her strangely.

She has just ruined a wonderful moment.

"They say his name is Illariy." The man can't help but smile and laugh a little like everything is a twisted joke.

An older woman, probably in her sixties, seems offended by his laughter. "This is a tragic story, young man! Why are you laughing?" The others seem to agree. Most of the faces were distorted by disgust and confusion.

"Well, it's a rare nickname in the Russian form of the ancient Roman name Hilarius, which means cheerful." He takes a sip of his chocolate, stands up from the chair, and, turning his back to the crows as he walks to the exit, says to them in a grave tone. "There is nothing cheerful about the story of this vampire."