We spent the day forest bathing, shadows of sunlight dancing on our path. The smell of pine permiated as we breathed in the fresh air, washing it down with the water in bottles tied to our hips. We hiked the hills, leaves crunching beneath our feet, as we followed the sounds of water splashing down, searching for the promised cascades.
Although we had visited before, Mom and I were fairly new to the area. We previously lived about an hour drive east of it. Together we bought a quaint house closer to my work, and we quickly became friends with our neighbor, Dorothy. She was the one who insisted on taking us on this hike.
Glancing at the burnt orange granite shining wet in the sunlight, the waterfalls did not disappoint. I felt pure, misty tickles kiss my smiling cheeks. Mom said she felt like she had to pee. Dorothy was silent, angeling her body as she snapped picture after picture with her phone. We walked on.
Down the path, around the next hill, I noticed I was alone. It felt strange, somehow. Not the aloneness, but the area. In my little corner of the woods I sensed the surrounding mountains, like sleeping giants they breathed deep and sang at a low frequency. Though I felt high, awake and alive, I was connected to them. I let my senses expand. A long, dark shadow flew over my head. It wasn’t a bird. It was an omen. I had experienced such a warning before and knew to be on the lookout for danger. I thought I had better find my friends.
I looked around. Mom stepped out of the bushes. She had taken her pee. “Your nose is bleeding,” she said. She dug in her sachel and pulled out a Kleenex. "It’s the altitude. Here," she said, handing me the tissue.
We searched for Dorothy and found her deep in the woods, glancing from her phone to the ground as she trekked through the brush. “What are you doing?” called Mom. Dorothy didn’t hear her, or didn’t care to answer. She was on a mission, it seemed. When she finally did join us on the path she said she was geocaching. However, she did not find her hidden treasure.
We had all worked up an appetite, so we found a ma-and-pop diner. We ordered a pitcher of root beer. They had it on tap. Mom also ordered homemade pork rinds as an appetizer. I was grossed out, but she insisted I try one. To my surprise, they were good! I had only a few, though. The hike made me feel great, and I didn’t want to lose that feeling by eating crap. I ordered an organic salad with poppyseed dressing.
When we got back into town Mom went to bed. She had to work the next day. Dorothy and I had the following day off, so we hung out at her place listening to music and chit-chatting. However, we soon became a bit bored. I didn’t go out to the bars anymore and she didn’t drink, but I asked her anyway if she would like to go out to a bar. She said yes right way. We contemplated where to go. Krueger’s had a pool table but it was in the arcade. Another bar I thought of turned out to be gone—burnt to the ground. Then I recalled a bar my mom and I used to go to once in a great while. It was a small, low-key, country-like establishment in the basement of one of the buildings along the south side of the road. We found it.
We walked in and proceeded down the stairwell. I realized it had grown. It was a popular high-end club now. All the people looked like they came right out of Hollywood, with perfect skin, smelling nice, and wearing designer clothes. Music pumped. The bar itself used to be a straight line parallel to the wall. It was now a large circle in the middle of the room. They added a pool in one area as well. A dance floor sparkled in another area. Dark pink and dark blue lights gave additional ambiance to the already elite atmosphere.
Dorothy walked up to the bar to order us drinks. I stood nearby, waiting. The energy in the room was strange, empty and foreboding. It wasn’t the bar, it wasn’t the pool or the dance floor. It was the people. They felt different than other people. They felt lifeless. A rock vibrated more energy than these people. I looked around more closely and realized something. We were the only humans in a room full of vampires. The thought just hit me. Yes, I felt out of place. But that wasn’t it. I knew my realization was true. I became dizzy, stumbled a bit, then woke up moments later on the floor. One of my old friends, from my bar hopping days, stood over me.
“Brooke. Brooke? Are you alright?” he asked, helping me up. He guided me to an empty bar stool and I sat down. “How much have you had to drink?” he asked.
“Nothing, yet. Hey, Tom,” I said, coming out of my daze. “I don’t know what happened. I just felt very weak all of a sudden. I was daydreaming, then I was on the floor. I’ll be alright.”
“I can get you something to eat. They don’t serve food but I know they have a pizza oven in back.”
“No. I had a late lunch and some snacks before we came. Where’s my friend?” I asked, still a bit groggy.
Dorothy approached, holding two drinks. “You look pale. Everyone in here looks pale. Maybe there’s carbon monoxide in here or something,” she speculated.
I took both drinks from her and gave them to Tom. “We have to go. Nice seeing you, Tom. Have a good night.”
Dorothy nodded and smiled at him. She had that look people get when they are attracted to someone. “I’m Dorothy,” she introduced herself.
“Sorry. Dorothy, Tom. Tom, Dorothy. Now let’s get going,” I urged.
“You can’t leave,” he said. “We haven’t had time to catch up.”
“Dorothy, come on,” I whispered, trying to wake her from her fascination with Tom. I recalled the ridiculous thought I’d had before I passed out. It might not be vampires. That’s silly, I thought. But something wasn’t right about the place and the people.
We proceeded toward the stairwell. A couple of people were about to climb the steps, they seemed normal. But then two others grabbed hold of them, quick and smooth, and persuaded them back into the crowded club.
I felt the need to be incognito, so to speak. “Follow me,” I said to Dorothy. When I looked behind me I was relieved to see her following. We creeped around a couple talking near the bottom of the stairs. It seemed like a couple more people were going to stop us, for they pointed and hurried toward us, somehow gliding right to us. However, Tom stepped in front of them. At that moment I remembered something horrible: A few years back someone had told me that Tom passed away. Had they been wrong? Or . . .?
Tom followed us up the steps.
Outside, the three of us stood on the sidewalk as cars cruised down Appleton Avenue. He told us he couldn’t let us leave. I could tell by the look in his eye that he was, indeed, a danger to me and Dorothy. Guilt flooded my heart. I had to take care of my friend. I had to get us out of this hole I brought us to.
I told Tom that he had to let Dorothy go. “It was my idea to come here,” I pleaded. “It isn’t her fault!”
“No,” he said. “She comes with me. You can go.”
“No!” I exclaimed.
Dorothy seemed under a trance. She allowed Tom to guide her back down into the bar.
I couldn’t leave her there, so I walked back into the building. A small, somewhat fluffy, dog followed me. I went into the bathroom and noticed a bowl of crystals—a mix of tiny amethyst and rose quartz. I ate a few. For some strange reason I knew this would hide my humanness.
Dog and I went back into the club to rescue Dorthy.
I opened my eyes, awake in bed.
My first thought: Adrenochrome.
Adrenochrome blood harvesting had been used for so long for evil purposes it went all the way back to Bran Stoker's Dracula, possibly further. His book was published in 1897. Perhaps Mr. Stoker knew about it and tried to warn the people through his writing.
This very vivid dream could have been there in my brain because we had driven through Transylvania County the other day. Or perhaps it was a message. They ususally came to me upon waking. A knowing of sorts. I prayed this one wasn’t true.
Dreaming Dracula
by
Cleo Bell
All rights reserved.
Thanks for #reading!
Suggested Reading: Dracula, by Bram Stoker
