//------------------------------// // 667 Dorothy Avenue // Story: Bite Me. . .Please? // by Drax //------------------------------// Bite me. . .Please? It was common knowledge that the mansion at 667 Dorothy Avenue had always had a vampire living in it. Or at least that’s what people said. The owner of the mansion, Mr. Paole, always had a Vincent Price look to him, and the fact that he was rarely seen during day didn’t help. But while the rest of town was content to spreading rumors about Mr. Paole and his blood sucking ways, Octavia Philharmonica, Ponyville’s resident teen expert on anything remotely creepy, never put much stock in it. For one thing, Octavia had seen Mr. Paole out and about in the middle of the day. No screaming, no hissing at the sun, just an old man getting his mail. Then there was the fact that while he was getting said mail, he happened to be wearing fuzzy bunny slippers and a matching house coat. “Honestly,” thought Octavia, “What vampire has, let alone wears, fuzzy slippers?” She shook her head at the disturbing image, and once again for good measure. And then there was the most theory crushing evidence that the old man could in no possible way be a vampire. He was dead. Mr. Paole had died little over a month ago from a heart attack. Paramedics had been called to the old man’s house, and they’d found him lying on the floor clutching at his chest. Hell, she’d even asked a few of the paramedics and they’d told her the exact time his heart had stopped while they were there. There had been a small, quiet service. The man didn’t have any family to speak of, or at least any that showed up to the funeral. Some idiot, thinking they were funny, had stabbed a spike through the old man’s heart while he lay in his coffin. Other than that though, Mr. Paole was buried without incident. And then a few days later when a real vampire attacked. Sure, Octavia had no proof or evidence, but the signs were everywhere. There had been sightings of a bat in the area, not bats, singular, as in just one. Usually, if people spotted a bat there was a whole colony nearby, but no. People had only seen one, flying all over the area, then heading into an open window in Mr. Paole’s mansion. Then there were the disappearances. Random people, suddenly vanishing in the middle of the night, only to be found hours later with no recollection of where they’d been. They’d show signs of feeling lightheaded and disoriented, which had been chalked up to blood loss, along with two pinpoint marks on their necks. Octavia wasn’t exactly a genius, but even she could tell that this was the work of a vampire. Not some psychopath or organ farm, like the police would have people believe. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said as she stepped up to the ornate door labeled 667, “If I’m right, I’ll meet a real live vampire, and if I’m wrong.” She shrugged, “Well no one knows where I am, but I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually." She knocked, and after a minute or two of waiting nothing happened.She reached for the doorknob, to check and see if it was locked, but as she did it slowly begin to creek open. “Really,” she whispered, irritated, “Am I going to find a skeleton in the closet too?” Octavia took a few steps into the house, ready to go into a full on rant. Obviously, whoever this vampire was they had no imagination. She was just about to mention how that trick hadn’t been scary for the seventy years when the inside of the house destroyed any rational argument she had. The inside was just how she’s imagined it, incredibly cliché but beautiful all the same. She was in the foyer of the manor, a grand staircase leading towards the upper levels of the manor stood across from her and long red carpet, bisecting the room until it reached where she stood. A giant crystal chandelier, bathed light down from above. “Darker than blood,” she thought, and then shook her head. She hadn’t snuck out on a school night just to let fear get the best of her. There were portraits, both old and new, encircling the room. A cacophony of stern faces, glaring down at her, expressing their disapproval that she was here. Each one painted in a slightly differently, and each representing a different time period. However, there was one feature that was present in all of them though, Mr. Paole. It was hard to tell because he was so young in most of the photos, but the man in the painting was undoubtedly Ponyville’s former vampire. Because he was a vampire, there was no doubt in about that now. She turned her head to what looked like the most recent painting. In it was Mr. Paole, just as she remembered him, his trademark scowl replaced with a smile. A smile that was—unlike ever other painting in this room—shared by the girl in the painting with him. Her skin was pale just like the others, but unlike the rest of them she seemed to have a certain air about her. Her hair was blue, spiking out into the air using who knows how much hair gel. Her eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, but you could still catch a glint of mischief behind them. “She’s beautiful,” thought Octavia. And she was, but the most interesting feature about her were the twin fangs peeking out from her lip. “Are you who I’m here to see?” She whispered, entranced by the mystery woman. Crash! And just like that the spell was broken, replaced with a cold chill. That had come from upstairs meaning someone, or something was awake in this house. " It's just that bat," she whispered under shaky breath "It probably just smashed through a window or. . . " The sound of a footsteps on a creaky floorboard silenced her. “Damn, damn, damn. Okay, calm down, Octavia, it’s not like you’ve gone very far. The door is literally six feet away. You can just turnaround and run very fast, you’re good at that.” She started inching toward the door, taking slow and deliberate steps to try and avoid making too much noise. "Come on, you're almost there, Octaiva, just a little bit—wait, what's that?" A slow sweet melody had descended from above. it captured her ear, and held her there. Slowly, but surely, she started moving away from the door, headed toward the staircase, and the location of that beautiful music. Past stairwells and through hallways, she followed the tune. Weaving in and out of the maze-like building to the dulcet tempos of a piano. Until finally it stopped, leaving a G# hanging in the air, and a very lost Octavia, standing in front of a plain wooden door. It wasn’t large and intricate, like the rest of the house. It wasn't even dark and menacing dark like what was behind it, because there was something behind it. And whatever it was it left Octavia terrified to open it. She wasn't given a choice though. As the door was suddenly flung open, and she was confronted with a pair of violet eyes. "Sleep," they commanded. And she did. The last sight as she faded into blackness were those eyes, and her last thought? "Beautiful."