Philophobia

3

I walk upstairs to my bedroom, with a small cup of tea in hand, ready for bed. My father had given me a small glass bottle with, hopefully, the remedy to my nightmares. I sit on the side of my bed and set the cup on my side table. I hold the medicine in my hand, analyzing it further.

Would this powder really help me? What if it doesn't work, and my father starts to believe it truly was the work of a demon? Would he go back to his old ways, never accepting what happened 13 years ago?

I sigh, pop the cork, and add a teaspoons amount to the cup of tea. I swirl the powder with a spoon until it dissolves then take a nervous sip. To my surprise, it became sweeter and tasted of chamomile. I take another drink, glad that the medicine didn't ruin the tea.

I set the tea back down, and slide into bed with a book that I had been reading for the past few days. It was on the history of vampires and study notes on their behaviors and biology, taken by many of the people who would hunt and kill them. Of course, I knew my parents were vampire hunters when I was a child, so I became curious of these dangerous creatures of the night.

"The vampire feels no emotions other than lust, to seduce its prey into submitting to their will, and hunger, then eating the blood of the innocent. They are alluring and manipulative, and will use your desires against you."

My mother used to tell me a bedtime story of a lonesome vampire who was kind and courteous, one who would starve rather than harm any human. I believe she would tell me that story so I wouldn't be so afraid of them. Even so, having not encountered one until I was on the edge of 17 traveling with my father, I still wasn't terribly afraid. Many books that I have read on these creatures all agreed that there were few, if any, vampires in our kingdom, and that if there were any left, they were all starving or dying off as society progressed.

I yawn, and suddenly my eyes start to feel heavy. I put my book down next to me leaving a bookmark between the pages. Without realizing it, I had drifted off to sleep.

☽♱☾

               Everything was black and silent. I'm warm and feel as if I were floating. I begin to drift slowly downward. A soft breeze flows around me and the sound begins to fill my ears. It's so dark I can't see in front of me, and I fall further and further, unable to grasp for anything that could slow me down. The wind picks up, and I become unable to breathe. I try to yell for help, but no sounds are able to make it through my throat. I am unable to hear as gusts of winds grow deafening. I'm falling, and flailing, trying to find a solid surface. My gut begins to burn as if it were set on fire. I gasp for air, but nothing reaches my lungs. I panic, not able to do anything but wait for my inevitable death as I hit the surface below. Suddenly, a flash of light pierces my eyes.

I'm awake, with sweat rolling down my forehead and onto my pillow. I still can't breathe, and my eyes tear up.

The medicine didn't work.

I sigh heavy, trying to catch my breath. It was always the same dream yet I never get used to it. I lie for a while unable to fully move, attempting to recover. As I feel my heartbeat slow back to normal, my sweat turns cold and I close my eyes once more. I, as I always do, map out the day ahead of me. It was Wednesday, which meant I was to help around the church. I sigh as I begin to shuffle out of bed, and walk to the bathroom for a shower. After, I wash my pillows and sheets, remake my bed, and make my way to my father's office. He would make a list of things for me to do, then I would fulfill them.

My day consisted of getting things ready for winter, such as trimming back some bushes and cleaning the cemetery of any debris or trash. My chores ended with me picking up the list of groceries for dinner, and I head back to the church to help my father cook. This was one of the things that made us have conversation, so I didn't mind it.