Philip, I'm A Vampire

Amanda Burnes is a girl that’s not human. She’s a vampire; who sleeps in a coffin, needs permission to come into a house, does not fear light, is 179 years old, and has a good friend named Philip Brachen. One day, Amanda makes the decision to say, “Philip, I’m a vampire.” But Amanda is not getting what the reaction she thinks of. She will end up asking herself at the end, “Was it really worth it?”


13. Interview with a girl who saw a vampire

We begin this mild and odd scene in a gray interrogation room. Ivy is sitting across from a detective who is questioning her. The girl does not seem fazed by the room itself; she has been in a room like this before. She smiles looking up at the lights, tilting her head at it. She notices  there are two light bulbs fixed into a silver metal  that is covered by glass-ware.

 “Nice upgrades.” Ivy finally said “When did ya update it?”

 The Detective is caught off guard so he looks up to see what she’s talking about.

“So,” The detective said, looking away from the light. “What did the vampire do?”

Ivy puts her hands on the table.

“Um.  .  .” Ivy taps on the table. “Ya have to be specific with me.” She rolls her shoulders. She feels comfortable talking to people who could take her seriously. “Because there’s been two—“ She holds up two fingers. “--vampires in Florida in the past month—or may be longer.”

The detective is surprised.

“We’re talking about one.” The Detective said.

Ivy spreads her other fingers  apart other than her two fingers.

“The one who sucked a lot of blood?” Ivy asks.

“Yes, that one.” The Detective said.

Ivy sighs.

“Good.” She said. “Because I wanna know what happened to the other one.”

The Detective rubs his forehead.

“What did The first vampire do?” The Detective asks.

“He dropped the body, then sneered at me .” Ivy said it as though this was a casual thing.  “I’ve seen much, much worse things.” She taps on the table using her right index finger. “And this isn’t surprising ta me.”

“Did he drop anything?”

“He didn’t bite me.”

“Did the vampire drop anything you haven’t given us?”

Ivy takes her arms off the table, looking upset.

“Are ya suspecting that I am lying’.  .  . ?” Ivy asks, as her voice sounds hurt by the question.

“No,” The Detective said. “We have to be sure.”

“That I am not lyin’?” Ivy asks, again.

Ivy’s face change from upset to a serious ‘I-want-to-know’ kind of face.

“Look; that other vampire came to me; he acted as though.  .  . That killer and he had some old unfinished hatchets to bury!” She didn’t give him enough time to write.  “I did research about the  350 year old vampire, sired in 1664 in Boston.He’s been all over the slagging world! Did ya check world incidents files?”

The Detective looks at Ivy as though she said something that no-one knew about.

“I suppose not.” Ivy muses, “He was British!”  She grabs a glass filled with water. She then takes a drink from it, swallows her sip, and outs the glass on the table. “Do ya know how much information and history ya can get from him?”

The Detective  did not know what to say.

“I suppose you’re too much of an idiot to see the value in a age-old vampire.” Ivy said, relaxing a little.

She took a breath  before continuing.

“That vampire.  .  .” Ivy  said, in a low voice. She looks back to the detective. “That vampire who killed that person; he has a name.”

  “Huh?” The Detective is startled by her knowledge.

 “Charleston Mcflemming.” Ivy said. “But I figure his records are gone.” She knocks  the water over the side of the table. However it did something odd disappearing in mid-air as though it landed on someone. “However, he mostly responds to the name Sharley.”

Ivy points to the notepad.

 “Write that down.” Ivy orders him. She looks down to the side and saw there wasn’t a stain in the carpet. Her attention returns to the Detective. “Before I do something utterly clumsy and forget—“ She wave her arms in the air. “—all about this week!”

The Detective rolls his eyes.

 “I can’t write as fast as you.”

“Well, we aren’t alone in this room,” Ivy mocks him. She didn’t know that Spheris is dead. Her attitude is quite different around cops. “Mr.I-have-a-beard-that’s-half-grown.”  She leans forward in her seat. “Is the Door unlocked?”

  “Um.  .  .” The Detective looks at the mirror, tapping the pen on the paper. “I don’t know what you are asking.”

 “It’s a simple question, Doc.” Ivy said.

 “I’m not a Doc.”

 Ivy laughs, edging to the corner of the chair.

“Yes, ya are being a Doc.” She said. “You are doing a political move. Now stop with dah political acts and tell me if the fudging door is unlocked.” She taps on the side of her neck. “Cause, I might get killed by a hell-bent supernatural thing.”

 The Detective sighs, rubbing his beard.

“Is the lights on?” The Detective asks.

“Yes.” Ivy’s eyes show fear, the kind where you know that something very creepy is here.

“Then you know the answer to your question.” The Detective said, closing the lid to the pen.

  The light went out.

 Then we hear the Detective scream; in a second we hear a door fall. We can hear Ivy shrieking; “Vampire alert!” In her loudest voice possible.  “Vampire alert! Vampire alert!” We hear Ivy hit a wall and fall down. “.  .  . I’m.  .  . okay!” We can picture her holding her hand up and sway it back and forth before falling back unconscious.

   The lights turn back on in the interrogation room; there stood Charlotte Fang, she knocks back the dead detective out the chair.

 “That little brat.”  Charlotte wipes off the blood on the corner of her mouth.

 Charlotte had planned to kill the eyewitness.  She planned to make the detective a fall-guy for the eyewitness’s death. Now that the lights were on; this wasn’t a good idea at all. Two officers saw Charlotte Fang disappear in the room like she put on an invisible blanket. Officers are put on alert and no-one leaves the unconscious Ivy unguarded.

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