It’s getting bigger, the voices louder. I measure the crack, it’s 9mm wider than yesterday. I look through the gap, they’re still there. Even more than yesterday. Every morning, when I do my checks, the voices turn and stare at me. ‘It won’t be long now’, they whisper.
“Mr. Jones! What are you doing? Checking that crack in the plaster again are you? I told you yesterday, it’s all in hand, I’ve spoken with maintenance, so stop worrying. Now, time for your medication.”
As she pushes the needle into my arm the voices spill through the crack in the wall.
“Not a lot sir. Seems she’d been dancing with the Prince most of the night. Then she vanished.”
“Anyone see where she went?”
“No sir. All we’ve got is a glass slipper on the stairs and a large pumpkin and some rat droppings near where our mystery lady’s coach was parked up.”
“We need to find her sergeant. Seems the lady was more interested in the Prince’s money than his charms. His wallet and credit card, all missing. Our Prince is not happy We need to sort this sergeant and quick, otherwise heads will roll.”
He was a fanatic, of that there was no doubt. There were some that openly admired him, thought he was right to hang on to the old ways, keep alive our heritage, our traditions but they were few in number. The majority of us though, thought he was just plain crazy. We’d moved on, adapted to the modern age in which we lived. Something he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. While we happily got our daily intake of blood in four litre cartons from the local supermarket he insisted on staying true to the old ways – hunting humans late at night.
Just caught a stinking cold. Been tracking the blighter for days. First got wind of it last Tuesday, running wild in the local school.Then heard it had been seen trying to get into the old folk’s home. I’ve been outside, waiting, watching. Thought at one point I’d missed it. I was about to call it a day when I saw it trying to sneak in with one of the cleaners. It never stood a chance. I had it safely neutralised and boxed in minutes.
Must rush, just had a message that Man Flu’s in town and needs dealing with.
“Remember.” I whispered, “We walk across the bridge, dead quiet, not a whisper. Got it? And no stopping for a quick peep over the edge. Remember what happened to Billy yesterday.”
We got to the middle before we heard the thing sniffing. It knew we were there. I grabbed young Sally and tossed her over the rails. Huge, hairy arms grabbed her mid-air and dragged her beneath the bridge. There was a cracking sound of bones snapping and her screaming stopped.
As we safely reached the other side I wondered who I’d have to sacrifice for the return trip.
This is where we first met. God you were beautiful back then. Our friends said we were the ideal couple, made for each other. I believed them. Six weeks after that first meeting we were married. What a wonderful day. Everything was simply perfect. How so terribly wrong was I. Within a week I knew I’d made a mistake. I should have left, made a clean break, but I never had the courage, not until today. So, now it’s over, I’m back here for a celebratory drink. Might even manage two, before they find your body and then find me.