The Fear Under My Tongue
A flash fiction tribute to Bram Stoker’s “Dracula”, for World Dracula Day 2020
“What music you make!” the Count spat out, the flickering torchlight painting his sharp features an otherworldly red.
We looked up at him, at his pale face now the color of blood, and we growled, angry and defiant. And afraid.
Some of my brothers and sisters barked and snarled at him. Some started howling. I kept my mouth shut, my teeth closed, yet there was a sound in my throat, and it was burning me.
“The children of the night!” the Count roared, his shadow suddenly growing huge, swallowing the stars around him. “My children! I AM the night eternal!”
We all backed away from him, falling silent.
“Listen to them!” he whispered. “The feelings of the hunter! When it realizes it is also hunted — by something even stronger!”
I took a step forward. Alone.
The Count raised his torch above his head. With the flame gone, a darkness fell onto his horrid face. From the full moon he turned into the lightless new moon, his eyes the only cold stars left shining.
The fear was almost enough to get me to roll on my back, and offer him my throat. But the pain in my throat, in my mouth, and on my tongue didn’t let me. I only lowered my head.
The others, my sisters and brothers were whining and backing away in fear.
Only I stood my ground.
“You!” the Count growled, leaning forward, and looking me in the eye. “You dwellers in the forest, your species cannot hope to beat a hunter mightier than yours.”
I looked up at him, and spat the pain in front of him.
The Count shrieked and jumped backwards a step.
The pain was in the shape of a small cross. It still had some of the blood on it — the blood of the robed man from whose neck I tore the pain out and down.
I snarled at the Count.
My sisters and brothers started howling again. They didn’t understand what I did, but they saw me drive him back.
“Ah, child of the night,” the Count whispered, a terrible smile on his now half lit face, his eyes gleaming. “You are learning! How proud I am of you! I’ll spare you. You will live, and learn, and lead your pack. And when I call upon you, you will make music.”
I tilted my head to the left.
“But you are still my child!” the Count barked. He stepped forward, his covered foot trampling the cross-shaped fear and pain into the dirt. “You’ll know your place! Know who you are in the night eternal!”
I spun around, and started running, my heart pounding in my chest, away, away from his terror.
And my sisters and brothers followed my lead.
