Meet Edwin Randolph, a forty-year old introverted recluse of a man. No family, very few friends, and the type who is always looking over his shoulder and sleeping with one eye open. A factory worker at the Chrysler plant by trade, Edwin is enjoying...well, enduring a six-month leave of absence in the wake of a workplace accident rending him partially disabled and providing him with worker’s compensation benefits.                                          Our friend is also of the superstitious variety, afraid of his own shadow, along with black cats, shattering glass, walking under ladders, the number thirteen, and any ghosts and goblins that go bump in the night. Little did he know, but Mr. Randolph was about to experience a bump in the night in the most uncomfortable of locales, the sanctuary he calls his home.

Edwin may reside in a quiet typical neighborhood of modern suburbia, but he possesses the mind of a child when it comes to fancying the ordinary into the extraordinary. There is a big, beautiful house directly across from Edwin’s home that had previously belonged to a banker. Edwin convinced himself over time that he was really a government operative spying on locals, on account of him staying up at odd hours and glancing out the windows from time to time. Suffice to say, Edwin Randolph views his neighbors through lenses colored with 1950’s paranoia, and it would come to the surprise of no one if he decorated his scalp with a snug, shiny makeshift hat of tinfoil...

Each of us comes equipped with our own talents and skills, character traits and personalities, as well as our own fears, anxieties and insecurities. How we manage each of the above, fostering and promoting the good while mitigating the bad often has a role in determining our success, at least in terms of how we perceive it ourselves. Sometimes stress amounts to needless suffering, while other times concern leads to justifiable fear. What is the proper recourse to take when subjective, whimsical imagination confronts objective instinct? Even more importantly, what is the proper analysis for when those two sides bond and share the same wavelength?

Edwin Randolph is not an average man, and he does not possess the average level of fear. Unfortunately he also does not have an average amount of luck. This is going to prove to be very disadvantageous and burden him with a heavy price, as some new neighbors have moved in across the way. They happen to be harboring a terrible secret, and the only advantage that Randolph has is that he is somewhat of an amateur sleuth and expert all in one. He has been living in the ruins of his mundane middle-aged life for quite sometime, and he is about to be given the gift of a great adventure beyond what he could have possibly imagined. The one problem is that his neighbors are threatening not only him, but the entire neighborhood and beyond, and only he can save them all from their impending attack...

At last, the large white home has been sold, which is hardly music to the ears of a man who would prefer a city full of foreclosed homes as opposed to the unknown component of whoever may be moving near. Our recluse spots the realtor while mowing his lawn, setting down the lawnmower to have a word about the purchase.

“I sold the home to a very nice young couple. The husband is a financier, specializing in long-term investments. They will add some international flair to your neighborhood, they come from Romania,” explains the realtor.

“Bucharest?” asks the curious recluse.

“Yes, that’s right. Or wait, it sounds like that but it is something else. I happen to have the form here, just a minute. Bistrita, you were close.”

     Romania, Romania...there is something about that country, but I can’t quite finger it at the moment, Edwin thinks to himself as he walks back home. Then it hits him—-Transylvania. He smiles to himself, after all there is no way that his new neighbor could be, well, you know...

     Bistrita may not even be in Transylvania, Edwin tells himself as he opens his Atlas to Eastern Europe. Sure enough, this city lies in the infamous region. Being well read in all of the wrong subjects, i.e. superstition, the macabre, the occult, Edwin has a very keen interest in the folklore of the vampire.

     The new neighbors arrive and soon make themselves at home, albeit under the watchful eye of Edwin. His paranoia aside, strange things begin to happen in the house across the way. Whether it be Romanian custom or not, the new residents do not appear to be using electricity, but rather candlelight. More damning is how they do not leave their home during the day, with the husband leaving before sunrise and arriving back after sunset, while the wife only appears to do work outside and around the house after dark, despite being home throughout the day.

     Edwin’s suspicions grow further after speaking with Mrs. Edson, his lone neighborhood friend who lives next door. She tells how she had invited them over for dinner a few weeks back, and the couple acted rather peculiar, starting with arriving at her home after 9:00 p.m. Mrs. Edson could not get over the fact that the wife sampled each dish of food herself before the husband ate, as if she were testing the food. When the main course was brought out, she smelled the chicken for some time, demanding the ingredients. Mrs. Edson rattled off a few items and spices she prepared the chicken with, and when garlic came up, the couple refused to the chicken or any dessert, citing allergies.

     As they prepared to leave, the husband’s eyes became affixed to a cross on the wall, which seemed to agitate the couple, as if they felt they were not welcome, as they left in a rush. Days later, Mrs. Edson’s three young children all fall ill with a severe case of influenza, quite unusual for the middle of summer. She attributes to a bug brought into her home from the new residents. Edwin attributes it to something else, in light of all of the unusual coincidences that appear afoot.

The grandest coincidence of them all would soon arrive before the reclusive watchdog, at the foot of his bed no less. Not one to leave his windows opened at night, Edwin feels as if he lacks a choice given the heat wave. Late that night his slumber is disturbed by a squeaking noise. A sharp pain pierces his neck, causing him to suddenly emerge from his bed in a quasi-panic. Turning on the light it is revealed that a bat is fluttering above, scurrying about the room before exiting out through the window. Thanks to the full moon outside, Edwin is able to track the bat, his eyes following it ever carefully as it flies directly across the street, vanishing into the home of...the Romanians.

It cannot be so, the one night he opened his windows, exposing himself to dark at night, of all creatures, a bat would appear, an animal that in his ten years of residing on this street he had never once witnessed. Bitten on the neck of all places, with the nocturnal pest darting directly to the home of the ones suspected of behavior that can only be labeled as Vampire-esque?

Logic and reason have turned on their axis in the wake of this attack, as Edwin’s fear begins to reach fever pitch. Spending the next several days researching vampires, he becomes frightened a few weeks later as he begins to develop symptoms of an illness, which he fears may be the onset of becoming a Vampire. Still alive, with a pulse and breathing, he knows at the very least that is not dead, or undead...but his questions begin to mount. Did the Vampire not finish the job? Was there only a partial transformation? The occultist lore provides him with few answers, only further questions.

     Paranoia aside, Edwin begins suffering severe Insomnia, rendering him unable to sleep during the night. He has grown feverishly hot, with a temperature growing to approximately 103 degrees, of which no medication at his disposal is able to break. Fearing the stigma of seeking outside medical help he remains inside. After all, how can he explain to them the transformation that is taking place? A once bountiful appetite and thirst have been replaced by a desire to avoid food and water, as if it is no longer needed to function. His one brownish skin pigment has turned ridiculously pale, resulting in extreme irritation to sunlight. Aches and pains persist throughout the body, leaving him quivering on his couch in the fetal position. Conditions worsen with Edwin fearing that venturing into the sunlight will kill him, and that perhaps his pain can only be relaxed by drinking blood.

     Having reached the conclusion that his transformation to Vampire, to death, or both is imminent, Edwin makes a decision that only one thing can save him. Breaking a chair leg by and snapping it in half, followed by sharpening it to the best of his ability and grabbing a hammer, a plan is hatched to wait for the one man on the block whom has proved to be more reclusive than Edwin, to arrive home. At that point the sickly victim will kill the Vampire, driving a stake through his heart. A measure in lunacy perhaps, but nothing else is making sense any longer, and Edwin is desperate to relieve himself of whatever curse has been bestowed upon him, curing whatever evil is afflicting him.

     Cowering on his front porch after sunset, Edwin composes himself as the hunt draws near. The car inevitably pulls up, leading the “effect” lunging towards the “cause.” As the Transylvanian exits the vehicle and slowly walks towards his door, the stricken sickly one moves in for the kill. I will drive the stake into his back, piercing his heart from behind, Edwin thinks to himself. A mere matter of feet away, Edwin raises the stake into the air, ready to strike. The vampire stops dead in his tracks, turning around ever slowly. His eyes gleam towards Edwin, who is frozen in place, as if a spell has been cast upon him against his will. The Transylvanian points at him, and Edwin collapses to the ground...

     Regaining his consciousness, Edwin focuses his vision on the vampire, whom is the only one in a room with him. “I brought you inside, drink this, it will make you feel better, and we will know how far along you are in your transformation,” demands the vampire.                   “No!” Edwin shouts, as he uses whatever energy he has retained in his decrepit state to resist drinking the blood, and delving further into the state of the undead. Choking and spitting out the awful tasting drink. “Now, this will finish the job,” says the vampire as he moves towards the poor victim. Grinning widely and hissing like a serpent, he reveals a mouth of descending fangs that appear sharp as razorblades. Edwin screams but finds himself unable to move, physically paralyzed in fear.           

The vampire sinks his fangs deep into the neck of Edwin, injecting him with a ghastly burst of pain that draws not only blood, but the entire remaining life force of the man, stolen from him in one deep bite. In its place is an icy cold sensation soaring throughout the body in an instant. The chilling thought that he is forever gone is the capstone to this agonizing, harrowing ordeal, and it is to be the last thought ever to flow through Edwin’s brain, as he fades into unconsciousness yet again.

     “Okay, that is the last one. The last shot of immunoglobulin. I would like to thank you all for helping restraining him, it’s not everyday we receive a patient like this,” declares a doctor.

     Doctors continue tending to Edwin, as one asks another what are the chances for his survival. “Not good,” he replies. “The onset of symptoms have occurred rather rapidly in the patient. As you just saw, he showed acute hydrophobia while we attempted to provide him with water, and he has been experiencing delirium since arriving here days ago. Poor fellow was experiencing some sort of hallucinating while we administered the shots on his neck near the bite wounds.”

     “Who brought him here?” asks another physician.

“A neighbor called 9-1-1. This man was acting bizarre in his driveway around 10:00 at night, completely unaware of his surroundings. The search revealed a small bite on his neck, most likely from a bat. Probably never even felt it, and a few days later, reduced to this. Tests came back positive for Rabies,” replies the doctor.

     The only chance to save his life is placing him into an induced coma in order to cease brain activity in an attempt to thwart the virus and enable the immune system to fight it to the best of it’s ability. This procedure is called the Milwaukee Protocol, a procedure that was first used a few years ago and succeeded in curing a girl of the virus without the use of vaccination. It has a success rate of only 8%, but one can hope.”

     The team of doctors looks down upon Edwin Randolph, arms and legs restrained in order to protect hospital staff from his violent outbursts, as a nurse wipes away a pool of foam around his mouth.

     Back at the home of the new residents, the Transylvanian woman begins calling for her husband, moving towards a large, dark object in the attic, a room lit only by candlelight. She continues calling out for him, as she draws closer to this object in the corner, it appears to be in the shape of a large coffin. She opens it up and begins spraying it with some sort of chemical, carefully soaking up every last spot that she can before beating the wall with a broomstick. She calls out one last time to her husband, where it is revealed that what she had soaked in chemicals was not a coffin. “I sprayed the crawlspace, this ought to get rid of that nest full of bats.”

     Hearing a rattling coming from within the crawlspace, she beats the outside of the wall with the broom again, causing a bat to emerge from the crawlspace and seek escape from the window. She looks out at the full moon, watching the bat fly off into the night...

     The line separating the natural from the supernatural is often what we make of it. A wise man once said how if you let a problem go, you’re letting the problem grow. It is necessary however to understand what problems are to be attacked and which ones are to be abandoned. As smart as Mr. Randolph was convinced that he was, he was lacking in the relevant, precautionary knowledge that could have proved more useful in the task at hand. Common sense does have a way of providing useful answers, as run of the mill and dry as they may sometimes be.

END