The words slipped out of her mouth and into the darkness, echoing down the stone hallways and racing up and down the high walls of the shadowy castle. The statement was almost a threat, filled with a longing and a desire that was far too human for the pale-faced man. Too warm for his cold, dead heart. It sparked a remembrance in his mind of a time when he was still allowed to feel emotion. When nature had not betrayed and damned his soul with eternal darkness. Her words made him remember a time before he met Death—a small chapter of his early life when he was like her.
Ever since the young woman stepped foot on the grounds of Berkley Manor, she had done nothing but surprise him. He knew he should have sent her away, made her leave before she breathed a single word or before she could trap him with her big, brown eyes and soft smile. But, turning her away would mean killing her, essentially. The night she came brought a snowstorm that intended to freeze and eat every living creature, including the girl. Killing things wasn’t a problem for him. In fact, over time, he considered humans as nothing but things. They were fragile creatures, imprisoned in their own mind, with only one purpose. To reproduce. After they did their job of restoring the population, Death would take them, releasing them.
Adam would often contemplate what that sweet release would feel like. That is until he met her.
Claire Elizabeth Winston.
As he softly held her, they stopped dancing, frozen in the middle of the ballroom as if time itself had stopped as well. And maybe it did. She held her breath as she studied his face, and he could hear her pulse quicken with every passing second. Her words lingered between them. It was nothing but a statement, but to him, it was a dangerous confession that challenged Life and Death, Good and Evil, and all things natural and unnatural.
“I wish we could stay here forever.”
He ripped his eyes from her gaze and looked to the right of them at the big mirror that took up the entire back wall. The reflection mocked him, showing only a picture of Claire, glowing with life, dressed in a red ballgown from a victim hundreds of years ago, her dark hair pulled up to show the strand of white pearls that rested on her delicate collarbones. She stood alone, her arms out in a waltz position. She looked like a dream. But this couldn’t be his dream—no. This was wrong.
He looked away from the mirror and the young woman, dropping his arms to his side as he hastily took three steps backward.
“Adam,” she whispered, reaching for his hand. He moved to the far side of the ballroom in the blink of an eye, his movement leaving a breeze.
This was wrong. He was the one who was damned, not her. She shouldn’t be here.
She was a joy he did not deserve to feel, a breath of air in which his lungs were not permitted to breathe. He was supposed to suffer alone in his sufferings, but her presence was a gleam of light in his existence of darkness—a gleam that he should not have. A light that he was simply not worthy of.
He could feel this was coming. He should have never invited her in, never given her shelter from the winter storm. But the thought of her dying in the cold, her frozen body covered with soft snow, made him feel sick. He would sacrifice himself for her without thought. And so, he would have to learn to let her go. She couldn’t come here again or see his face once more. She must leave—at once.
“You must leave,” he said, his icy words seeping through the space between them. “It’s not safe here.” Nothing was fair about this—nothing would hurt him more than what he was about to do. But she deserved far more than the gaze of a corpse. She deserved far more than him.
Claire pressed her eyebrows together, giving him a face that would surely break him. “What’s wrong?”
“This,” he quickly replied. He nodded to the mirror and added, “Us.”
She looked at the mirror, not surprised to find that his reflection was not there. She knew what he was talking about, but she chose not to understand his cruel words. “I don’t understand—”
“You must leave,” he said once more, his eyes dropping to the marble floor. He was ashamed of himself. Who was he to think that any of this was okay? Did he truly believe that their friendship was acceptable? In only a few days, he had shown her his castle and the many novelties within as if to impress her. He gave her gowns upon gowns and jewelry from his victims as if they were presents. She knew where the clothes came from and yet still accepted his gifts, entrapped by his unnatural ways. He told her his secrets about what he was and how he came to be—but instead of being frightened, she was fascinated.
He looked back up at her, his eyes running over the red gown. He still remembered the woman who had worn it. She was a Dutchess from Germany—a widow who happened along the wrong path, took the wrong turn, got lost in the wrong forest. He still didn’t know why he didn’t burn his victims’ belongings. It’s not like they meant anything to him. Or maybe they did have a purpose after all. A reminder of who he really was.
An unlovable monster who drank the blood of innocent mortals to survive. A selfish creature that could never change.
“But—” she stuttered, searching his face for any sort of hesitation. She walked toward him, the gown moving swiftly above the floor. Her high heels clicked against the marble in the same rhythm as her pounding heart, the very thing he could not bear to hear anymore.
“Leave!” he shouted. The candles on the walls and on the crystal chandelier above flickered.
She flinched, stopping before she made her way to him.
“You were never meant to find this place. You should not have spoken to me.”
“Is this about the people in town? I’m not going to tell anyone—”
“This is about your wellbeing.”
“My wellbeing? What do you know about my wellbeing?” Her cheeks turned a light pink as her irritation grew. She was playing with fire—a very dangerous fire—and yet she spoke without a care.
“I’ve killed thousands of humans like yourself, I know what it takes for you mortals to live. And certainly, that does not include accompanying a man of my nature.”
“I thought you loved me,” she breathed, the words catching in her throat. Her brown eyes pooled with a shimmer of agony.
It pained him to see her like this. To know he was breaking not only his heart but hers. “I’m dead, Claire. Did you really think I was capable of loving something? This isn’t love. This is a form of limerence. Of obsession. This is merely a game of risk, and I will not play it any longer. I’m telling you to leave, Claire. You’re not welcome here. Leave me before…” He could not bring himself to finish the sentence. He would never harm her—he couldn’t. Just like he couldn’t let her stay and waste her brittle life on him.
When she processed what he was saying, her sadness morphed into a bitter wave of anger. “And what about my dreams? I dreamt of you before I came here—do you think that was a coincidence?”
“You wanted to believe that was me in your dreams. You wanted an escape from the life you live—but I’m sorry, I will not let you waste your beating heart. You did not dream of me. This is not fate. You’re just a naïve girl who took the wrong turn on a hike up Frost Mountain.” He did not dare meet her gaze. “And I, I am a fool who invited you into my home. And now, your stay has expired.”
For a moment, she did not utter a single word, or breathe, for that matter. Her fingers trembled at her sides, and if he did not care for her life, he would have rushed to her without hesitation and wrapped her in his arms until her tears subsided. He would’ve comforted her immediately and told her everything would be okay and that he would never leave her. But those were broken promises that he could not keep. Not if he wanted her to live a normal, happy life.
He stood frozen, listening to the uneven pace of her breathing and the unsettling drums of her heart.
“Okay, I’ll leave,” she finally said, her voice a little firmer. She reached her hand to the pearl necklace he had given her that morning after she confessed her feelings to him. It was only a few hours ago, but it felt like years now. Whatever they had once shared—it was gone. Vanished. In the blink of an eye. She wasn’t sure what changed his mind, but he spoke with a confidence that could not be doubted. She was unwanted here. She was being rejected, let go—the same way she had always been since the day she was born, when her mother was not strong enough to survive childbirth. When her father took his own life years later. When the town considered her bad luck, shutting her out as if she did not matter. She shouldn’t have been surprised it would happen again—but she didn’t think Adam, the man whom she had dreamed of several nights before she even knew he existed, would ever shut her out too. He knew what it felt like to be outcasted. To be left behind. To be alone in one’s own sorrows. And yet, not even a lonely, bloodthirsty beast like himself could love her.
With a deep breath, she pulled the necklace, freeing it from around her neck. The white pearls bounced across the marble floor, rolling toward him. She stormed off before saying another word, and he stood frozen in the giant ballroom and listened to her rush down the hallway. Her heels clicked as she ran, sounding off a mockery of what he could have had. Of the girl who could have been his if only he was not damned. Wasn’t being a vampire enough? Didn’t he suffer plenty without having to have his heart broken by a mortal? He was a killer—a predator without a weakness. Why was he feeling this way? Why did he have to feel at all?
He heard the big doors of the castle creak open and then shut, rattling the walls around him, letting him know he was alone again.
He flew to the nearest window to find Claire in her oversized sweater, snow pants, and boots, walking through the snow-covered courtyard, past the rose bushes, and through the big iron gates that stood as a cage around the premises of Berkley Manor. He watched as she disappeared into the forest, leaving him alone to pick up the pearls and the pieces of his shattered heart and live out the rest of his cursed years in a miserable state of purgatory and despair.
Though he wished he was wrong; he knew he would see Claire again. Someday.
THE END
A note from the Author:
Thank you all for taking the time to read this short story! I hope you enjoyed it. Recently, I've been trying to write more short stories to challenge my writing and avoid writer's block. Because I am writing a trilogy, I don't ever write anything but the southern mystery-- which, don't get me wrong, I absolutely love. But, like with anything, the more I work on it, the more I feel myself getting burnt out. So, to avoid feeling writer's block, I am going to try to write short stories again! My goal is one short story a month, but with my editing business and my own novel writing, we'll see how that goes.
About Pearls On The Marble Floor:
This short story was inspired by a prompt from Reedsy and a recent dream I had. I don't usually dream, but when I do, the dreams are quite vivid. The story isn't exactly my dream-- just bits and pieces I was inspired by.
After I finish the trilogy, I may even explore this story's world a little more and write a novella or novel. What do you guys think? I'm thinking the vibe would be Interview With The Vampire by Anne Rice meets Beauty and the Beast meets Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Not Twilight. Nothing against Twilight-- but not Twilight.
Until Next Month!
Kait The Writer
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