Short Weird Tales: Cold

- Vampire’s back.
- What’s that?
- I said that vampire’s back. In the garden.
- The same one? Beryl doesn’t come through from the lounge, although she turns the television down.
- Yes, the one with the black hair.
- Well just ignore it, Brian.
- That’s a bit hard when it's staring right at me.
Brian goes back to the washing up. The volume from the living room goes back to its previous level.

- JESUS!
- What’s happened?? Beryl comes pacing through to the kitchen. The vampire is at the window, nose touching the glass six inches away from the sink.
- It's interested in what you’re doing, that’s all. It’s the activity, the movement.
- Is it interested in making me shit myself, Beryl?
- Oh don’t be dramatic, it’ll wander off in a moment.
- Have you been feeding it again? You know it only attracts others.
- No Brian, we’ve had that conversation. It’s cold out, it’s probably just looking for somewhere to shelter.
- But it lives round here somewhere, why can’t it just go home?
- Look, you know they can’t come into the house, don’t worry about it.
- Well I’ve heard them in the passageway at night, shuffling around.
- Because you insist on leaving the door ajar, yes.
- If you close it the air doesn’t circulate and the mould comes back.
- Well which is it Brian, mould or vampires?
- We’re not having this conversation again. If this keeps up, I’m putting the traps back down.
- That’s inhumane, Brian.
- It’s my property, Beryl, I’ll do as I damn well please.
The vampire is back in the middle of the garden now, staring over at the neighbour’s house. Brian dries the dishes, looking out of the window long after the vampire has gone.

Later than night.
Beryl comes downstairs.
She takes a saucer from the cupboard.
Opens a vein. Opens the patio door.
Leaves it outside, out of view from the kitchen window.

Well, it’s cold out.
You’ve got to think of the little ones.

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• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
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