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Description
A long day of school finally ended, and Brett loaded onto the bus for the short drive home. Screaming kids filled his thoughts and he grimaced. He hated each and everyone of the obnoxious ones. He removed his sketch pad quickly from his bag and flipped it to an empty page. Sliding the pencil gracefully across the smooth sheet made him smile slightly, as it cascaded to form something simple: a rose. Brett licked his lips in satisfaction, and returned his things to his bag as the bus stopped at his house. It was a two story, middle-class house. It was tan, with a porch and swinging chair chained to the left side. A crystal window rested near the top of the door and a light could be seen through it. Brett walked off the bus quickly, eager to get to his room. He was greeted by his step-mother. She was short, with brown hair to her shoulders and green eyes. She smiled, "How was school, Brett?". Not wanting to share his misfortunes, he replied with a simple, "fine." and hurried up stairs. He rushed past his father's den, to hear a familiar voice call out. "What's the hurry, Brett?" Brett stopped and peeked into the den. His father looked just like Brett, short black hair and deep chestnut eyes. Brett shrugged and forced a quick lie. "I have a lot of homework, and I'd like to get it done before the evening." he said, his eyes darting toward his room. "Well, you have somewhere you need to be?" Brett's father asked, catching his attention again. "I-I was just going to the erm, park." Brett said. His father nodded, and he hurried to his room again. Closing the door behind him, he sighed. Brett tossed his bag onto the bed and sat beside it, falling backwards and peering out the window from upside-down that was behind him. Sickening sunlight burning through the glass, and Brett blinked. He was always a night person. He did have homework, it wasn't a complete lie, but he wasn't going to the park. Brett did his homework quickly, and finally, when it was done, he could go. He dressed in dark colors, and pulled on a worn, black jacket. He grabbed his flashlight. He would be gone after dark. Brett smiled, and hid the flashlight in his jacket. Brett ran down the stairs and left before his father or step-mother could object. Walking along the road, he finally came to the rusted gates of the cemetery. Pushing them open, he walked among the graves slowly, heading towards a large mausoleum. He caressed the gravestones as he passed slowly, the cool stone sending an eccentric shock up his pale fingers. Slowly, he progressed to stand in front of the mausoleum. The cracked, stone pillars rose up to hold the roman-looking mausoleum roof. Brett put a hand to the large stone door, and exhaled deeply. "You know, they say a vampire rests in that there mausoleum." a ragged voice sounded behind Brett. "Wha?" Brett turned quickly, surprised to see an old man holding a shovel. A gravedigger. The old man smiled with quick wisdom. "Come, boy, lemme tell you all 'bout it." the man said, and Brett nodded, interested. The digger sat atop a gravestone, while Brett just criss-crossed his legs on the ground. "A long time ago, when my pa was just a kid, a stranger came to town. He had real silvery hair and real dim eyes. His skin was all pale, an such." the digger said, Brett listened intently. "Well, my pa always did chores for this here stranger, so they'd often talk. Not too long after, people started disappearin'." The man said, his eyes back into the memories. "Well, my pa went to the man's house one day. Pa said he saw the man covered in blood, fangs pokin' out his mouth and a dead boy on the floor. Said he ran and told the police." The man looked down at Brett, as if asking to go on. "What happened to him?" Brett asked. "Well... they burned the vampire. His remains are in there." The man pointed. The digger said goodbye, and left to his duties. Brett walked up to the door and rested a hand on it. Tonight, he would see for himself.

Description
A long day of school finally ended, and Brett loaded onto the bus for the short drive home. Screaming kids filled his thoughts and he grimaced. He hated each and everyone of the obnoxious ones. He removed his sketch pad quickly from his bag and flipped it to an empty page. Sliding the pencil gracefully across the smooth sheet made him smile slightly, as it cascaded to form something simple: a rose. Brett licked his lips in satisfaction, and returned his things to his bag as the bus stopped at his house. It was a two story, middle-class house. It was tan, with a porch and swinging chair chained to the left side. A crystal window rested near the top of the door and a light could be seen through it. Brett walked off the bus quickly, eager to get to his room. He was greeted by his step-mother. She was short, with brown hair to her shoulders and green eyes. She smiled, "How was school, Brett?". Not wanting to share his misfortunes, he replied with a simple, "fine." and hurried up stairs. He rushed past his father's den, to hear a familiar voice call out. "What's the hurry, Brett?" Brett stopped and peeked into the den. His father looked just like Brett, short black hair and deep chestnut eyes. Brett shrugged and forced a quick lie. "I have a lot of homework, and I'd like to get it done before the evening." he said, his eyes darting toward his room. "Well, you have somewhere you need to be?" Brett's father asked, catching his attention again. "I-I was just going to the erm, park." Brett said. His father nodded, and he hurried to his room again. Closing the door behind him, he sighed. Brett tossed his bag onto the bed and sat beside it, falling backwards and peering out the window from upside-down that was behind him. Sickening sunlight burning through the glass, and Brett blinked. He was always a night person. He did have homework, it wasn't a complete lie, but he wasn't going to the park. Brett did his homework quickly, and finally, when it was done, he could go. He dressed in dark colors, and pulled on a worn, black jacket. He grabbed his flashlight. He would be gone after dark. Brett smiled, and hid the flashlight in his jacket. Brett ran down the stairs and left before his father or step-mother could object. Walking along the road, he finally came to the rusted gates of the cemetery. Pushing them open, he walked among the graves slowly, heading towards a large mausoleum. He caressed the gravestones as he passed slowly, the cool stone sending an eccentric shock up his pale fingers. Slowly, he progressed to stand in front of the mausoleum. The cracked, stone pillars rose up to hold the roman-looking mausoleum roof. Brett put a hand to the large stone door, and exhaled deeply. "You know, they say a vampire rests in that there mausoleum." a ragged voice sounded behind Brett. "Wha?" Brett turned quickly, surprised to see an old man holding a shovel. A gravedigger. The old man smiled with quick wisdom. "Come, boy, lemme tell you all 'bout it." the man said, and Brett nodded, interested. The digger sat atop a gravestone, while Brett just criss-crossed his legs on the ground. "A long time ago, when my pa was just a kid, a stranger came to town. He had real silvery hair and real dim eyes. His skin was all pale, an such." the digger said, Brett listened intently. "Well, my pa always did chores for this here stranger, so they'd often talk. Not too long after, people started disappearin'." The man said, his eyes back into the memories. "Well, my pa went to the man's house one day. Pa said he saw the man covered in blood, fangs pokin' out his mouth and a dead boy on the floor. Said he ran and told the police." The man looked down at Brett, as if asking to go on. "What happened to him?" Brett asked. "Well... they burned the vampire. His remains are in there." The man pointed. The digger said goodbye, and left to his duties. Brett walked up to the door and rested a hand on it. Tonight, he would see for himself.