Yet another shameless plea for critiques - yep, this is for class. R&R? Please? ^^

For a change of pace, this is my attempt at a horror story, done as sort of a homage to Edgar Allan Poe. First draft and I'm not nearly as good as he is, nor what one would call experienced at horror writing, but hopefully it works well enough...



As a poor servant girl told time and again that my only purpose was to serve my betters, daily abuse of every kind was merely a fact of life, not worth being remarked upon. It was so for my first twenty or so years, and when I began to serve immortal masters rather than human ones, precious little truly changed. My masters still never failed to remind me that I was inferior to them, never mind that now I served vampires instead of mortals. My wishes did not matter. But after over a century of this kind of service, told that I was unable to live without them because my own immortality depended on if I regularly received their sustenance, I was brought to realize that no matter who you are, that which is not given willingly can still be taken by force.

Though the various clans that nearly all vampires belong to could scarcely be more different, they all agree on certain rules that must be followed to keep order. Though every house I have ever served in vowed to uphold them all at any cost, I came to see that it was as much a lie as their appearance; just as they look human but are no longer, the most important rule of all is an unspoken one: If no one knows about it, it may as well have not happened. My masters then, much as the mortal ones I served before them, were perfectly content to look the other way when one of their own broke nearly any of the rules they claimed to hold so dear. Only when a violation was in some way brought to their attention did they consider action. When I decided to do so, I was surprised at how easy it was to let slip in front of the right people what Master Wilhelm had done. Action was taken swiftly and firmly, and I never had to lift a finger to arrange for him and I to be isolated far from anyone who could help him.

It was only days after our exile that I saw my perfect opportunity to carry out the second part of my plan. Master Wilhelm had been in an absolute rage the entire time; his anger was such that all he could think to do was put me to work making our lodging presentable; we had been able to bring little, but the house we had been banished to was long abandoned and had accumulated the dust of decades. I wore a frock once considered suitable to one of my station, and when I began my duties it was black; some by the end of each night of work, it was gray from dust and dirt. Had I still been mortal, I would have collapsed from exhaustion with all that he made me do.

“Finished with the back rooms yet, have you?” Master Wilhelm said to me as I entered the room.. As I toiled to make the house presentable, he only sat in the dining room and twirled a goblet of blood in his fingers; he sipped from it occasionally, but not as often as he would have otherwise; as the blood wasn’t fresh, he thought it distasteful. “It took you long enough; we’ve been here for days, you realize.”

I brushed a dirty strand of hair out of my face; with all that he had set me to do, I’d had no time for bathing, and little enough for eating. “Yes, Master.”

“About time. What do you have left?”

“I’ve finished cleaning the main floor, but the ground floor remains untouched, as does the attic.”

“Hmm.” He pondered this a moment.

“I took the liberty of looking through the attic, sir. None of the furniture I was told about is suitable for use, and it will take a long time to dispose of it all. Until such time as I can do that, I can keep it locked up.”

“I see. Very well, you will clean the ground floor next.”

“Yes, Master Wilhelm.” I curtsied and went downstairs. I had no doubt that he would soon tire of staring at the faded wallpaper I had tried so hard to clean and come to terrorize me into working yet harder; from the time the accusations were brought against him to our first night in our new dwelling, he had taken most of his foul temper out on me. He acted as though what had happened was my fault; I put up with it partly because my plan required it, but also because the ordeal he was going through was partly my fault. But because I was well aware that he didn’t know what I had done, I added his continuing and additional cruelty to his list of crimes, and vowed to show him no mercy.

I set myself to work cleaning, just as he had asked, but kept an ear out for signs that he was coming to once again take his temper out on me. He was truly in one of the most foul moods I had ever known him in over his exile; that he truly was guilty of most of the crimes he was accused of mattered not at all to him. As I had predicted from long years of experience with him and his kind, he soon slammed his wine glass onto the table, nearly breaking it, before storming downstairs to make certain I was working.

I had by then worked my way into a certain back room, the house’s basement. When I heard his angry footsteps, I couldn’t help but remember the hundreds, perhaps thousands of times I had heard the very same and wanted to hide; it would take him some time to find me there, and out of long habit, for a moment I wanted to stay there. Instead, I ran, and towards him. I knew I looked frightened; after decades of service to vampires, I could produce the expression effortlessly. “Master Wilhelm!” I stopped just in front of him, barely, and looked into his eyes with a desperate expression.

“What the blazes is it, girl?” he snapped.

“The basement—there is a trapdoor, I think. I know the boards there were not so loose when I came in there before, and dawn is so close—I think someone’s come for you. Please, come see.”

His eyes narrowed, and he pushed me aside so roughly I fell to the floor. “We shall see how easily I go down if they wish to try.”

I struggled to my feet—I was genuinely weary from lack of proper food and rest over days, and if he had not been as well I would likely have been injured—and hurried to follow him. By the time I got there, he was ripping up the floorboards, to reveal nothing but hard-packed earth.

Master Wilhelm turned to me, eyes blazing. “Damned useless fool. The boards were loose—have you never seen it before? I should turn you out to age into dust—don’t expect sustenance of either kind today, girl.”

Before he could take so much as a step towards me, I acted—I simply flipped a switch, attached to something I had installed the day before. Master Wilhelm appeared not to notice the light flickering on for a moment, but could only double over as searing pain ripped through his body. He tried to bolt away as only a vampire can, but the UV rays of the lamp zapped his powers as he had likely thought only the sun could. He fell to the floor, screaming. “Mabel! What is this?”

“It’s called electricity, Master Wilhelm,” I replied. “The light is from a sun lamp.”

“Impossible!” He tried to curl up, to cover himself with his clothes, but nothing he wore would be nearly sufficient protection.

“It’s not as strong as the sun, no,” I said. “Do you remember what the sun feels like?” I walked to his side and took his hand. Though already weakened, he resisted, likely thinking I planned to expose him further to the light’s deadly glare. I simply leaned down and clicked a padlock on a loop of chain closed on his wrist; both were wrapped with thin silver wire to minimize any attempts at struggling. The other end was similarly locked to a support beam in the center of the room, too thick and sturdy to be pulled down by a vampire who would never again be at full strength. He tried, of course; I stood there and watched, to ensure he couldn’t. After only moments he stopped and curled up in another attempt to protect himself.

Though even the best UV lights can’t fully mimic the full effect of the sun, after a few minutes I saw that he was beginning to smolder; I went back to the switch and turned the light off. Wilhelm stayed huddled into himself for a while before seeming to realize that the deadly light was gone; slowly, as if afraid, he turned his head to look at me. “Why do you not just kill me?”

“Had I wanted that, I would have staked you while you slept,” I replied. “It has been decided that you’re more useful to us this way.”

“Why?” I could see that he was trying to seem strong, but being exposed to even an imitation of the sun’s rays for so long had weakened him; he could sit up, but no more than that.

I leaned down to look him in the eye, as servants are instructed never to do. “Because, as you said—I’ve become accustomed to immortality. However, I’ve also grown tired of begging for the sustenance of vampire blood that keeps me from aging; so, I decided it was time to take it for myself. Rest assured, you’ll be fed—some. Likely little more than pigs’ blood, but it will keep you ‘alive’, if either of us can be called that.”

He stared at me. I waited, expecting him to speak; when he did not, I turned and walked away. When I had reached the door, he cried out, “What is to become of me?”

I remained facing away from him. “You’re valuable as you are only because your blood is a gateway to power.”

“And if you somehow capture another, who is more powerful than I?”

I smiled to myself, and simply walked out of the room.



As a young girl, a child servant, I once saw my master rebuke his large hunting dog, a creature large enough to take down horses. Though he used only words, however harsh, the dog stood there with its head down and tail between its legs as though he had whipped it. Puzzled by this, I asked him, “Why does it listen to you, who is without fangs like it has?”

My master told me, “Because it doesn’t know that I don’t,” and smiled, showing his teeth; indeed, only the canines were sharp.

It may seem like a strange thing to tell a servant that was almost a slave, but he said it with confidence that I was too stupid to comprehend. And I was, because I was young, and it was actually a long, long time before I understood. But when I finally did, it was a lesson I took to heart.