"We're gathered today, my beloveds, to say goodbye to a well-loved—uh… a son, a hus—a brother, someone who was cared about in his family." The exceedingly port priest began, not exactly sure of what to say, simply pointed to a corpse of the teenager well-dressed in a black suit and gray lint, a very expensive buy for the poor family. "Alan will be dearly missed…"

The family, dressed only in rags and the mother coughing from possible plague, sat in the first row of seats. The family only consisted of a brittle, elderly-looking woman, a burly man covered in dirt, and a fresh-faced female.

The remaining seats were somewhat- barley filled with family friends, who have some out of joy to see the death of the young man.

The family rose and stepped to the coffin. The woman was shaking and in tears and returned to her seat in fear of collapsing. The female let out a wail and held onto her dead brother, calling out for him to return to life. The mad had to pry her off the body.

The priest sighed and closed the coffin, calling the boys to carry the coffin to the pre-dug grave.

The family followed the team.

"…Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust…" The priest yearned, closing his bible.

The coffin was lowered and the hole was filled. The priest and coffin jockeys left.

The man placed his hand on his wife's shoulder and looked solemnly at the grave. The daughter collapsed into a fit of crying.

The father lightly pressed his wife in the direction of their carriage, and then looked to the daughter.

"Contessa, come." He said, aiding his wife in getting on the wagon.

"No! I'm not leaving him!" She cried hysterically.

The man gritted his teeth and grabbed her by the hair and lifted her. "You'll do well to listen to me!"

She whined in pain, returning to her feet as she was led to the carriage.

The ride home was silent. Contessa combed her fingers through her hair and watched as her mother coughed up blood.

The small shack came into view and the man stopped the carriage.

"Contessa. Help Emily in the house." The man said, taking the reins off the horses.

Contessa took Emily's arm, leading her into the shack and sitting her in a chair close to the fire.

Emily blinked tiredly and smiled. "Thank you dear."

"Anything for you mother." Contessa stood and headed toward her bedroom. "Mother… You didn't hate Alan, did you?"

"Of course not sweetie."

A while later, the man came back into the house. He crept past his sleeping wife and opened to door to Contessa's room.

Contessa gasped, drawing her knees to her chest. He smiled and shut the door.

"You better be quiet this time."


Contessa awoke the next morning and began her chores. Her mother was still fast asleep on the chair and she hoped that she wouldn't awake. She tied her hair behind her and began making food.

"—Tessa? Is that you?" Emily's voice sounded.

"Yes mother?"

"Come here sweetheart." Contessa advanced toward the raspy voice.

Her mother was in much worse condition. She was paler, looked much weaker…

Her hand lightly touched Contessa's eye. "Oh, dear… I should really have a talk with John… You know your father loves you honey." She broke into a fit of coughing. "I haven't much longer, and you'll have to help him alone. He's really a nice man. He really loves toy Contessa."

Another long fit of coughing, and Emily went completely limp.

Tears formed in Contessa's eyes as she kneeled in front of her dead mother. As an act of pure instinct, she picked up the body can began walking to the church.

A kind elderly man picked them up and drove them.

Contessa emerged into the church, cradling her mother.

"Pastor! Pastor, please, I haven't any money, but my mother, she it—"

"If you haven't the money then bury her in your backyard! This is a church, not a charity. Be gone with you!" He spat is disgust, waving her away with his hand.

Her knees buckled and she fell to her feet. "Please, Sir, I'll do anything. Anything." She yearned, untying her corset.

The priest recoiled in horror. "Harlot! This is a place of worship! Out!"

Her tears grew stronger as she carried the body out. She began digging in the yard of the church, digging the dirt from the ground. She created a hole just big enough to fit the body in and cover it, kneeling in front of the grave and praying.

Contessa made her way back to the shack, and to her dismay, her father was awake.

"Where were you? And where is Emily?"

She looked to the floor.

"Mother has passed. And the damned church wouldn't bury her unless we gave money. Where was I? I was digging a hole!"

John seemed slightly surprised at the news of his wife's passing.

Then he took a look-over of Contessa's body.

"Oh, look at you! You're covered in mud."

"I can't exactly stay clean digging graves." Contessa huffed.

John scowled.

"I'm off to work. Somebody has to pay for your food, though you don't seem to care much for my tough labor. Don't seem to take interest in helping with money either." He scowled and slammed the door behind him.

Contessa unlaced her corset and lay in her bed, silently crying.

"Oh mother, if only you knew. Now that you're gone, he'll kill me too."


Over the days, John had slowly begun getting sick. Soon, he had to miss work in favor of lying at home under Contessa's care.

What little budget they had was slowly withering away.

Contessa began to prostitute. It paid well enough to have a doctor look at her father, whom said the sickness was definitely an incurable plague.

Bills began piling up, and soon, the bank took their home.

John died not long after.

Everyone turned their backs on Contessa.

And pretty soon, the sickness got her too.

The members of the family began to die slow, unexplainable deaths by sickness.

And pretty soon, they were all gone.


There are rare moments in a life where one simply cannot believe what is happening.

This was that very moment for Alan.

His eyes slowly opened and he was greeted by some sort of plush fabric.

He felt stronger than ever before.

He slowly began clawing as the plush, tearing apart the wood only to be greeted by dirt.

After hours of digging, he made his way to the surface and was greeted by a shocking setting.

Gigantic towers were all around him, and odd robot-like beats making the oddest sounds were going about on paved road.

Small children were walking around in masks and capes, holding sacks… what is this?

It seemed the more he advanced into this town, the weirder things got.

He tried his best to remember the path to his home.

Of course, when he reached it, he was in for a surprise.

A giant house was in place of the shack.

And people he didn't know where on the property.

Loud music was playing and kids, likely his age but a great deal dumber, were yelling and drinking from red cups.

He entered the house and was instantly apprehended by a boy in tattered clothes.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

Alan frowned. "I haven't any money, Sir, but these people, they're on my property."

The boy turned around to the girl behind him.

"He's obviously drunk." She laughed. "Have fun!"

He smiled and waved her away.

Alan looked extremely puzzled. "Who is she?"

"Doesn't matter. Who are you?"

"I'm Alan."

"Great. I'm Ben"


"I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new in town?"

Alan laughed. "Trust me, I've been living here much, much longer then you have."

Ben didn't seem to understand, but brushed it off.

Alan seemed in his own world, staring out the window.

"This can't be…" He said quietly. He turned around and looked at Ben.

"What year is it?"

Ben tilted his head to the side, "2012…" He said slowly.

Alan looked mesmerized. "It's been so long…"

"What are you talking about?"

Alan sighed and shook his head. "Nothing."

Ben raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yeah…" Alan sighed, remembering generations ago when the vast amounts of houses and buildings behind the house that used to belong to him were instead a lake and forest.

He could remember, as a young child, going swimming in the lake with Contessa and his friends from school and being scolded by Emily when they came home with wet clothes and smelling of fish.

But, that was before the land dried up and John stopped getting money from harvesting. That was before every day was a struggle for food and money.

And, most importantly of all, that was before Contessa caught him kissing one of his boy friends from school.

She, not knowing the consequences of her actions, told John.

And so ended the life of Alan.

"You might not know me very well, but you can tell me if something's wrong…" Ben said, gently placing his hand on Alan's shoulder.

"You won't believe me." Alan said, looking at the floor.

"Try me." Ben smiled.

"All right. This," Alan motioned all around him, "Used to be my family's house. And that whole place covered by those buildings," He pointed out the window. "Used to be the forests and fields my family owned. But that was 80 years ago."

Ben nodded, "You're right. I don't believe you." And smiled.


"He's delusional." Ben whispered to Chelsea, looking at Alan, who was sleeping on the couch.

"What makes you say that?"

"He things he's 100. So, obviously…"

"He could just be really deep in character… It is Halloween…" she shrugged.

"Still, Chels, this is a tiny town and I've never seen him before. And you haven't either, have you?"

She shrugged, "No, maybe he's from a few towns over. Probably was at a party with his girlfriend or something, lost her, got disorientated and lost on top of being drunk, and ended up here."

Ben sighed, "girlfriend…"

Chelsea rolled her eyes and ruffled Ben's hair. "I'm being hypothetic Benny. I have no idea who or what he's into. I gotta get home though… so, have fun with him…" She said with a smirk to make the sexual connotation quite evident.

She walked past Alan and patted his head, "And goodnight to you, Mr. Crazy Drunk"

Ben rolled his eyes and smiled.

He put a cover over Alan and went to his bedroom.


The next morning was mainly consisting of Ben trying to get as much information from Alan as possible.

Alan took Ben to the grave he rose from.

Ben looked at it in complete disbelief.

He quadruple-checked the gravestone, unable to believe that Alan's name was really on it.

More importantly, the year of death on it.


"All right, you win. I believe you." Ben said quietly, looking at the dirt. When he didn't hear a response, he looked over to see Alan collapsed to his knees in front of another grave.

Ben went up to the grave. He could barely make out the name "Contessa" on the tombstone.

"She was my sister." Alan whispered.

"You can stay with me at my house."

"It's technically mine…" Alan said with a slight smile while he wiped his eyes.


A week into Alan living with Ben, the younger received a call from his mother. Her business trip would be expanded a month, he'd been trusted with the home, no wild parties, only use the credit cart for emergencies, etcetera, etcetera…

Ben, of course, was more concerned with caring for Alan.

Aiding Alan in figuring out 80 years of technology was painstaking work, considering one morning when Ben's alarm clock went off, Alan decided it was a good Idea to throw it out the window with his excuse, of course, being "It was loud and wouldn't stop."

Nonetheless, every day of Alan's clueless and non-intentional shenanigans made Ben's heart grow fonder of Alan by the day.

This, of course, led to all-night phone conversations with Chelsea concerning his sexual frustrations which usually ended in Chelsea falling asleep while on the phone and Ben left to his thoughts.

"You seem upset and it's bothering me." Alan announced, breaking the half-hour long silence which consisted of Ben blankly staring at the TV.

Hearing Alan speak made Ben jump. He collected himself and shifted in his seat.

"I'm not upset."

Alan shifted closer to Ben. "Yes you are. I can tell."

Ben shook his head. "It's nothing, really. I'm just stressed."

And at hearing this, Alan grabbed Ben's chin and pulled him into a kiss which mainly consisted of clanking teeth due to the inexperience of the two.

Ben pushed Alan off in panic. "What was that for?"

Alan sat back and propped his feet on the coffee table. "You said you were stressed. I wanted to help relieve the stress."

Ben exhaled slowly, whispering, "Well, you've managed to make it worse."

Chapter 9

Ben decided to take Alan into town for a day of "adventure" which was, intended to be grocery shopping.

Big mistake.

Alan had to have disappeared within the first five minutes of walking to the store.

Ben mentally cursed himself for not expecting him to run off. What if he goes out in the sunlight? Vampires do die in sunlight, right? He is so dead if that lunatic wanders past the shade.

It then hit ben that the man was 80 years old. It's not like the death of the vampire would be something he had to explain to parents or anything.

Still he wasn't going to let someone he… liked, just burst into flames or melt or sparkle or whatever the hell vampires do when they hit sunlight.

But, he hadn't even noticed the vampire's disappearance until he reached the store. He could be anywhere by now.

Of course, he had to call Chelsea for backup.

Alan, on the other hand, was simply enchanted with his surroundings. He didn't mean to wander off, he just sort of did.

He walked through multiple streets, nearly got ran over a few times, then got stopped by a rather scandalously dressed, rather, not dressed, female that beckoned him into an alleyway.

Unknowing to the situation that was about to unfold before him, Alan happily accompanied the stranger.

"Have you found him yet?" Ben panted into the receiver of the phone.

"No. I don't think we'll be able t"

"Keep looking!" Ben yelled into the phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

He rounded another corner and looked into an alleyway. He heard muffled noises. "Alan? Is that you?"

He, of course, was greeted with a less than pleasant sight of a dead hooker with various body parts scattered around the area and seeing Alan tearing apart her heart with his teeth.

Alan turned his head at the sound of nearing footsteps, smiling at Ben, and then looking back at his meal. Ben looked mildly horrified and that state of sheer terror only worsened when Alan raised the hand contain the heart as an offering to Ben.

Ben nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone rang, and he quickly found it and answered.

"I found him. But you might want to come to my house." He said before Chelsea could get a word in, then hanging up his phone.

"Alan… It's time to go." Ben said slowly. Alan simply smiled and nodded, taking Ben's hand as they walked back to the home.

Ben tried his best to ignore the amount of blood on his hand, not to mention the stares from the fellow residents of the town considering the kid next to him was literally coated in blood.

"Yeah why did you-OH MY GOD ALAN!"

"That's what I said." Ben sighed, wetting a washcloth.

Alan was looking guiltily at the floor and only looking up when he saw the floor replaced with Ben's feet.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's nothing." Ben said flatly, wiping the dried blood form Alan's mouth and neck. "Now take off your clothes.

Alan nodded and undressed, giving his clothes over to Chelsea's waiting hand.

"Burn those." Ben said. Chelsea nodded and went out the back door.

"I was hungry…" Alan said quietly. Ben wiped the blood off his hand and sat next to Alan. "I'm in trouble are—"

Alan was cut off by Ben kissing him.

"You're so cute."

Chapter 10

After the incident with the hooker, Alan's bloodlust was unquenchable. As any addiction, the first incident started a spiral of horrible events.

It was sickening how adapted Ben became to it. In a matter of less than a week, he had been used to hiding bodies and burning bloody clothes.

Each day, another resident of Ben's town went missing, another outfit was burned, and the adrenalin rush of assisting and getting away with murder helped the boys slightly lessen their sexual frustration towards each other.

The law enforcement system was of such low quality it was laughable. It was as if the cops didn't even care if anyone was dying. It was as if nobody even cared. You'd hardly hear about it in the news, and no real investigations were put into play.

It's often perceived in movies, television, and even books, that the resident of small town all care about each other.

The reality is actually quite the opposite.

Alan and Ben could simply dispose of the corpse and go home to a nice night of making out before bed. No questions asked, the house searches, nothing.

And tonight, after successfully draining the life from the town sheriff, the boys were rampant. They had hardly made it to the front door before they were all over each other.

Their highs pushed them past the usual just kissing.

It escalated to the, attempted, removal of clothing. During which, Alan got frustrated and just ripped Ben's shirt open. It caught slightly on a necklace before being thrown across the room.

The necklace fell onto Ben's chest. The shoddily-made crescent moon with a star attached to it wrapped in a rusted silver chain.

Alan froze when Ben's chain came into view.

"What's wrong?" Ben panted, looking down at his chest.

"Where did you get this necklace?"

"What? My mom gave this to me. Something about being passed down for almost 100 years or whatever. Can we get back to what we were doing now?"

Alan frayed the chain from Ben's neck. "This was mine."

"What?" Ben shook out of his high.

Alan turned the necklace over and examined the back. "Yeah! This is mine! My initials are on the back!" He closed his fist. "I gave this to my sister when we were kids… and she just gave it away?"

He looked over at Ben.

"I don't… all I know is it was passed down my family." He sighed and thought. "My grandmother always made a big deal about it."

He closed his eye tight and thought hard.

"My great grandfather was left on the doorstep of some stranger's house by a dying prostitute. Though, my great-great's never specified if they knew whether or not she was the mother. Anyways, He was found with this necklace. It's been in my family ever sense."

Alan looked horrified. "Then that means… your great grandfather…"

"Was your nephew. So, I'm… you're…"

"Your uncle." Alan let out an involuntary shiver. "Nice to meet you, nephew."

Ben pulled his knees to his chest and tried to process what just happened.


Poor Contessa only had a few days left.

Giving birth had greatly weakened her.

It was mentally sickening to her, having known her father was the one that impregnated her.

She had tried several times to kill herself.

But fate had a different plan.

She knew that she could not care for the child herself.

Instead, the sought out the richest family in her town. She set the still-crying infant in front of the door.

She tried her best to ignore the voice in the back of her head telling her not to leave the child. Instead, she unhooked the chain hanging at her neck and laid it on the blanket the baby was wrapped up in.

She kissed the baby atop his head and knocked on the door, running off immediately after.

She died a week later from the flu.

And her body was buried next to her brother.