Mr. Denver of Greenhill

Mr. Denver is a vampire, and the Roman Catholic Church wants him dead.

I remember it like it was yesterday. 

It was a bright sunny day. Naturally, I was indoors. 

I was in bed, but I couldn't sleep. So I decided to make some tea- regrettably my last tea was green- and read some passages from my copy of the good old book, which I had fixed so the cross on the sleeve was scratched out. I was reading the book of Numbers when I was disrupted by three loud knocks.

"Who is it?" I inquired.

"The Lord's Knights. We just need to ask you some questions, Mr. Denver."

The Lord's Knights?, I thought. I had never heard of them. These men weren't of the local militia. Could they be some new holy army put together by Rome? Or were they just some angry villagers who had stumbled upon my secret.

Either way, things weren't looking good. My options were limited. 

Preferably, I could have fled the scene. But I wouldn't have been able to keep up a run in the sunlight. They'd catch me after my collapse and they'd know for a fact that I was guilty. 

Another three loud knocks.

"Hurry up, Mr. Denver, we don't have all day."

"I'll be there in a moment," I said.

I could attempt to kill the men. But I was no fighter. I was a shut-in who spent his days reading and repairing clocks. I'd never even held a sword before.

My only option was to use the only reliable weapon I had: my head.

My heart was beating so loud I could hear it. I quickly ran to the kitchen and made sure to hide a tub which contained the blood of a squirrel I had killed last night.

"Open this door immediately, Mr. Denver. Our patience is running out."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. 

This could be it, I thought.

With my eyes still closed I clutched the door handle and pulled back.

"Finally, Mr. Denver, we were just about to tear down your door," said an impatient voice.

"I apologize, sir, I was simply getting dressed. It takes quite some time for a blind man as you might imagine."

"Hmmm, anyway to business," said a different and more authoritative voice, "we came here because we were informed that you don't go out much during the day."

"No, sirs, only when necessary. I prefer the safer environment of my home. I also need all the time I can get to pursue my livelihood."

"Yes, we heard you fix clocks," said the authoritative voice.

"Indeed, I build and repair broken clocks for the entire village of Greenhill," I said. I then decided it was time to learn more about what was happening, "you seem like good fellows. If I may ask, what is so wrong about staying indoors?"

"News hasn't gotten around then," the man said as his authoritative tone changed to a more casual one, "we are acting on behalf of Rome in this country. The Pope has given us specific orders to search towns for those who stays indoors during the day..." 

"You'll learn more on Sunday, I suspect," he added, "anyway, we've wasted enough time here. Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Denver."

The two men mounted their horses and departed. As soon as they were gone I violently slammed the door shut, breaking it's hinges, and sank to the floor. I remember hyperventilating. 

That was close, I thought.

Rome was on a hunt for my kind. There was no doubt. And my faked blindness had saved me. Originally its purpose was to allow me to go to church. That way I wouldn't feel faint every time I saw a crucifix. But now it had protected me from those men who surely had a cross painted on their uniform. They probably let me go because I didn't react. 

That's when I realized I had a night to leave town. Come Sunday morning and it would be the Witch Hunts all over again. 

I wonder if any of the other's got caught, I thought. While we seldom stuck together due to the fear of being discovered, those of my kind at least all knew each other in Greenhill. I should at least check on them before I leave.

When the sun went down, I asked my neighbor Paul if he could be so kind to guide me to the local pub. I liked Paul. Unlike the other townspeople, he didn't only derive blind-hatred and discrimination from the good old book. He saw the selflessness and the sacrifice in the actions of the Christ. 

"So how are you doing, Charles," asked Paul.

"Great, Paul, thanks for asking."

"I find it so incredible how you're able to do such a remarkable job with the clocks, Charles, with your blindness and all. You are quite talented."

"Thanks, Paul. So, what books have you been reading?" I asked.

"Oh, not much," he said, "readings not as good as some men like to make it seem."

That was Paul. He thought I was blind, so he tried to underplay anything that I was excluded from. Reading, writing, the beauty of physical constructs such as our church. Out of all the men I met, he was the one I wished could be my real friend.

I wondered as we made small talk if he would dare take my side if my secret were uncovered. Or if he wouldn't hesitate to put a stake through my heart. Probably the latter.

That's what made me constantly question living. All of these people I loved. All of these people that loved "Charles Jerold Denver." Even after getting to know me, they wouldn't hesitate to kill me if they knew what I was. Regardless of whether or not I had harmed anyone. Regardless of whether or not they had done worse.

When I arrived at the pub my worst fears were proven correct. Luke, the bartender, was missing. He was a large bloke who was one of my own. I waited until the pub closed so I could walk around without having to pretend I was blind.

I soon discovered that Thom wasn't the only one missing. Peter, the undertaker; Mary, the librarian; and Mark Anthony, the blacksmith, were all missing. 

Were they all dead? While I didn't know them all that well, it was hard to take in. It was like losing a relative you barely knew. I had a connection with these people. We were all of the same. And now they were probably gone forever.

I'm the only one left, I thought in disbelief. I went to take a seat on the large green hill that was the namesake of our town. That was when I saw something in the distance. It was probably the most shocking thing I had ever seen. 

Picture this. A 60 000 square feet castle. The entire castle is surrounded by stakes - pieces of wood sharpened to the point where contact would surely result in death. Inside this enclosement is a stream of several meters. Past the stream and hugging the castle walls is a wooden platform that surrounded the entire castle. Hanging from this platform by string were thousands of crosses and crucifixes. Finally, men with crossbows stood watch from the top of the castle walls. All of the men were are armed with a flammable tip bow-and-arrow.

Rome knew everything. They knew about my people were unable to cope with the sight of the cross and how fire was the only real way to kill us. 

It was that moment that made me come to a realization; this wasn't going to be another witch hunt. This was going to be a planned extermination of my people. 

I ran home and began to collect all of my books and gold. My door was wide open. At first I panicked, but then I realized I broke the hinges the day before. While searching for my valuables I noticed my Bible was missing. 

Three loud knocks.

Crash.

The door flew to the ground. In the confusion I forgot to close my eyes. At the sight of the purple cross on a knight's armor I collapsed to my knees and held my stomach. I was in so much pain I couldn't even focus enough to close my eyes.

"Looking for this book, Mr. Denver," shouted a knight with an authoritative voice, "Strange, isn't it. A blind man who could read."

The second man approached me and restrained my hands and legs, while I cried out in pain.

"I must admit, Mr. Denver," the second man, with a more intimidating voice, said, "it was a clever trick, the blindness. We almost fell for it, too. This morning we bumped into this Paul character. He said you're door was wide open and the hinges were broken. He demanded that we investigate. We checked your house and found a Bible lying open on your bed. Caught our attention, since you know, blind men..." he paused and then shouted "cannot read!"

Paul hadn't killed me on purpose like I had speculated earlier. Instead, it was by accident through a kind gesture. Being an avid reader, all I could see was the bitter irony.

"I didn't do anything," I said, "there are people in this town who are millions times worse than I. I read the good old book," I said, "I'm a good man."

"A good man who is revolted by the sign of our savior. Bullshit. We know what you are. A good for nothing sinner, like the others of your kind. Get up!"

"What? Where... are we going?" I said, struggling to form words.

"You saw that castle over there. We're taking you there so you can be properly disposed of."

"What?" I screamed, "I haven't done anything! I haven't done anything!"

"You're kind are all sick. You drink the blood from people. You are Satan's army. His angel's of death."

That was the logic, I thought. These men believed they were the Lord's Army. They believed that Satan had finally descended to the Earth as the Bible predicted and that they were fighting on the side of the Lord.

"You don't understand," I said, "I didn't choose to be this way! I've done my best to be a good man. I never killed a human. Only animals, you have to believe me! No villager in this town has ever gone missing! Ask them. Please, I'm begging you."

They responded with a kick to the stomach. They put a cross around my neck and then dragged me  outside by my clothes.

Church bells sounded. People were walking the King's path towards the church. I was dragged along that path in the opposite direction, towards the castle in which I would certainly die. I'm quite sure the entire town saw me. Most of the people bowed their heads or avoided eye contact. I had never felt so alone.

On my way out, I saw Paul. He looked me right in the eyes with a pained expression.

What did that expression mean? I wonder that to this day. Was he on my side, but afraid to fight? Did he feel sorry for me? Or was he just devastated that he was so kind to a "sinner like me."

That's when I cried out at the top of my lungs:

"Father, why have you forsaken me!"

I had always wanted to say that. 

Reviews

[letmebeme66]

I too enjoyed reading this--Vampire or no Vampire
You kept your reading wondering till the end
and that was a nice way of ending it
I think you should have made him act more afraid
then you did-- put the ending was cool
I like ones that leave you laughing

[Chris Paddock]

I enjoyed reading this, I like the slow reveal that he is a vampire, and that you never actually use the word vampire! It's also a nicely understated tone which makes it feel realistic and believable. Mr Denver's inner dialogue was very good I thought.

Some things I have an issue with. Firstly you're v your. It's only a little thing but annoying when not used right.

The dialogue was a bit hit and miss for me. The guards did sound authoritative which was good, but some of it I thought was a bit too 'on the nose' without enough subtext like "we were about to tear your door down" and "news hasn't gotten around then"... didn't sound like real speech to me. Maybe something more like, "if you're fond of your door, open it faster next time," and "news is not always as fast as the Knight's Guards after all," would maybe tell us a bit more about them.

I think Denver should have been surprised that they have heard ofhim, he should have been scared and trying to play it down, as if not understanding why they would have heard of him.

Not sure about calling him Mr. Denver, it sounds a like a modern name to me. But that made it more of a surprise that it's based a long time ago... I don't know, it doesn't quite sit right with me though.

When he says "I wonder to this day." I was confused because I thought that he was going to be executed, so how did he survive to still be wondering?

Nice little twist at the end with the "Father, why have you forsaken me!" that was funny and poignant.

Overall I thought it was good.

Chris

[Chris Kay]

Thanks a lot for taking the time to write a detailed review

[Chris Kay]

It has some really good points, especially about dialogue, which criticism like yours has been helping me improve dramatically

[Chris Paddock]

No problem, glad it helps :)

[Lorem Ipsum]

It is a very good story with an interesting idea. And also, you've written a story with a unique theme of witch hunt in Rome, and the ending is a little heartbreaking.

Here is some of my suggestions for this story (I'm a new writer, so maybe this is not a good suggestion):
-You can change the setting, because witch hunting will fit more in the British or American city (eg: salem)
-You can change the ending into the main character find a way out from his problem brilliantly (but avoid deus ex machina)

[Chris Kay]

Thanks very much for the advice, I don't think I will change anything (I rather just let it be and move on to the next story), but understanding what I could have done differently (and better) will definitely help me as a writer and definitely influence how I write my next story.

So once again thanks a lot!

[Lorem Ipsum]

You are most welcome

[Lorem Ipsum]

It is a very good story with an interesting idea. And also, you've written a story with a unique theme of witch hunt in Rome, and the ending is a little heartbreaking.

Here is some of my suggestions for this story (I'm a new writer, so maybe this is not a good suggestion):
-You can change the setting, because witch hunting will fit more in the British or American city (eg: salem)
-You can change the ending into the main character find a way out from his problem brilliantly (but avoid deus ex machina)

But overall, this is a good story (y)

[Marie]

What a strange and sad story. Longer than I usually read, but fascinating enough to hold my inerest throughout. You didn't use apostrophes correctly in all words, but other than that I have no criticism to make.