The Hunters
by E.J. Tett
The farm had been abandoned for many years now, the out-buildings and barns were tumbledown and overgrown with ivy. A rusted tractor stood outside what had been the stables and a decrepit water tower had fallen into the yard and was starting to turn green, its wooden supports long since rotted away.
The farmhouse itself didn’t look too bad, part of the roof had collapsed and there was no front door, but the inside, though dusty, was good enough.
Good enough for him anyway. He was getting old and scared and he was tired of running away. He sat in what had once been the kitchen and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Some furniture remained in the farmhouse; that which was too heavy or cumbersome to take away.
He thought about what would happen when others arrived. He wouldn’t be alone forever, he knew that. He had been surprised that the farmhouse had been deserted when he got there.
His stomach rumbled, but there was nothing to eat, so he sat at the table and waited.
#
Moonlight filtered through the twisted trees of the wood and created myriad patterns on the ground below.
An owl glided silently beneath the canopy, a white ghost on the hunt.
On the ground, a vampire feasted on its victim – a teenage girl who had been camping with her boyfriend. He lay dead just a few feet away, his throat torn from his neck.
The vampire raised its head and licked blood from its lips. Its black eyes glinted in the moonlight as it listened intently to the dark wood, turning its head as it picked up noises.
Dogs, men shouting, the crackling of flaming torches…
The vampire became a bat and within moments, it was gone, disappearing into the night sky.
#
“Where are you going?” The young man stood in the street with just a towel wrapped around his waist. She marched away from him, rolling her eyes that she should have to explain herself.
“Away!” she called back. Her shoes pounded the concrete as she walked and she could hear his bare feet slapping against the ground as he followed after her.
He grabbed her by the wrist. “So that’s it?” he asked. “It’s over?”
She shook his hand away and folded her arms across her chest. The street was quiet and empty but for a homeless man sleeping in the doorway across the road. “We were together, what… a week?” she said. “It’s not ‘over,’ it didn’t even begin!”
He raked a hand through his blond hair – his other hand held the towel tight around his waist. “I thought it could’ve gone somewhere,” he said, looking at her imploringly. “I’ve had fun, haven’t you?”
“I have had fun,” she admitted. “And, sweetie, you are great in bed--”
“I haven’t even begun to show you what I’m capable of yet!” His eyes shone with eagerness.
She sighed and then chuckled quietly. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Me and you… it wouldn’t work. Trust me.”
“But--”
