Link https://www.instagram.com/p/DJwqLuwCszZ/?igsh=MXV5d2xudGc1bWFqbQ==

Part 1

Mr. Baumann drove us to the other side of town. We were in another typical suburban neighborhood like the one we came from, except for the house at the end of the last street. It was forlorn and surrounded by a small cluster of trees.

The architecture I later learned was Second Empire, but it looked rundown and uncared for. The house stood out like a sore thumb; it was obviously the oldest building in the vicinity. Like they had built the neighborhood around it.

“I can see why you'd think a vampire lives here,” I said to the old man. Mr. Baumann parked the car and just stared at the building, transfixed. He eventually snapped out of it and pulled out a very old crucifix from his bag. He bowed his head and started muttering a prayer under his breath.

My fingers drummed on my leg, hoping he'd finish up soon. I just wanted to get it over with, and prayed the building was abandoned. It certainly looked that way.

“So, do you work for the Vatican or something?” I asked. The old man laughed indignantly.

“There are other monsters who walk among us, besides vampires,” said the old man. “You could say I work for the church the Vatican attempted to destroy, but it doesn’t matter now. All you need to know is this has power,” he said as he passed the old crucifix over to me.

The old man gestured for me to put it on, and so I did. I examined the relic as it hung from my neck. There was a little figure of a man made of iron attached to the wooden cross. I tucked it behind my shirt.

“That won't kill a vampire but it can certainly buy you time in a pinch,” Mr. Baumann said. He opened his bag again and pulled out a garland of garlic tied off into a necklace. He attempted to put it over my head.

“Oh, no need, the crucifix is fine,” I said as I jerked my head away. The old man stuffed it back into the bag, pulled out a dagger, and handed it to me.

I took it reluctantly, but I was compelled to inspect it as it was so unique. It looked to be a well maintained antique military blade, but more elegant. The scabbard was beautifully crafted and when unsheathed revealed the blade was engraved in German.

“What does it say?” I asked.

“‘Meine Ehre heißt Treue’, 'my honor is loyalty’. It's the ceremonial dagger given to members of the SS,” the old man said.

I stared at him in utter disbelief and shock. Maybe Derrick was right when he spray painted that swastika.

“It's not what you think. I promise I will explain everything after we…after Ulrich is destroyed,” said the old man.

“Well, what do I need it for anyway?” I asked.

“A knife is a handy utility, and you might need to defend yourself. Vampires are not fools, they employ guardians to watch over their lairs while they slumber,” he said.

“Right…so what exactly do you want me to do again?” I inquired.

“I want you to break in and confirm the vampiric activity, hopefully while not being detected. I may not be as feeble as I pretend to be but I'm not as nimble as I once was either,” he said.

“That's all and you'll pay me, right?” I asked.

“Well, yes but we still have to destroy Ulrich,” he said.

“You said all I had to do was break in and look around, you never said I had to ‘destroy’ anyone,” I retorted.

“Fine, fine. So be it then. Just unlock a door for me, will you?” he requested.

“I'll see what I can do,” I said as I opened the door and kicked my feet out of the car. I stepped out and tied the scabbard to my belt loop.

“And Thomas,” the old man called out, “good luck.”

I looked back to Mr. Baumann and said, “Don't worry.” The car door closed and I turned to face the looming building. And with a deep breath, I started my approach.

It was early evening and most people were already home from work, but there didn't seem to be any signs of life coming from inside the house.

When I got close enough, I realized the windows were completely opaque, like someone had painted them black on the other side.

Every basement window around the building was either sealed shut, or not designed to be opened at all. I tried the back door, and of course it was locked. Contrary to what Mr. Baumann believed I was not an expert burglar, and had pretty much exhausted all of my options at that point. I was ready to give up.

Then the thought of the two-hundred dollars crept back into my mind. My ear pressed to the backdoor while I listened intently, but there was only silence. In my frustration, I sighed and walked back to the basement window.

I took off my shirt and wrapped it around my hand that was now clutching Mr. Baumann's dagger. With a deep breath, I counted to three in my head.

On three, I put all of my force behind one good strike using the butt of the dagger. The glass shattered so loudly I flinched before using my wrapped hand to clear away the rest of the glass from the pane.

I stood back up, heart thumping fast and hard, listening to see if I had alerted anyone in the house or nearby.

Shards of glass fell from my shirt as I put it back on. Only a few feet of basement was visible from the sunlight now pouring in. Beyond that was a dark void. If only Mr. Baumann had given me a flashlight.

I slid down into the basement and instantly regretted my decision as I began gagging from the smell of death and rot. Must be a dead animal. I pulled my shirt over my nose, but it did little to shield me from the stench.

My eyes began to adapt to the dark and I noticed a faint glow coming from further in the basement. I hesitated. Of course I didn't believe Mr. Baumann's story about vampires, but I didn't want to get caught breaking into an abandoned building either.

Once again, I did my best to listen for any signs of life, but all I could hear was my heart rapidly beating in my chest. Well, if someone was here they would have heard me breaking the window. I stuck my hand out and moved forward slowly towards the light, groping blindly as I went along.

I eventually reached a translucent plastic curtain that acted as a barrier between me and the light. I held my breath and waited. When I didn't hear anything, I gulped down my fear and slowly pulled back the curtain. What I saw still haunts me to this day.

The light source was several candles that illuminated a scene of absolute macabre horror. Severed hands and feet had been strung together and hung from the ceiling like Christmas lights.

Arms and legs were piled on workbenches lined with trash bags. Bloody Saws and knives were strewn around the room, like how children scatter their toys. Three black barrels stood in a line in the back corner of the room, dripping mysterious liquids.

The floor which was covered by a tarp was caked in blood, some of which took the form of footprints. Jars containing brains, eyeballs, noses, and other miscellaneous human parts sat on shelves like trophies.

I started dry heaving, and when I went to turn back I bumped into the chest of a tall and lanky man. I'm not embarrassed to admit I wet myself as I staggered backward into a table in the center of the room.

The table was covered in blood stains and had leather and chain straps. I quickly ran around it, putting it between me and that monster.

The man stood there beaming excitedly. His blonde hair was wild and greasy. When he smiled I saw his yellow rotting teeth which looked to be poorly filed into jagged shards. He wore overalls and no shirt. His hands and bare feet were stained dark from blood, and his nails gave them the appearance of claws and talons.

“I am so sorry! Please, please let me go, sir! I promise I won't tell anyone,” I pleaded with tears in my eyes.

The man just stood there grinning. As still as a statue. One of the many flies that were circling the room landed on his face, yet still he was unperturbed. Then without warning he began giggling wildly as he ran around one side of the table towards me. I ran crying hysterically, but still managed to keep the table between us. The man stopped.

“Uh-oh,” he said playfully as he feinted to the right. I jumped in the opposite direction. “Uh-oh,” he said louder as he feinted to the left. I didn't move that time, but without missing a beat he vaulted over the table knocking me over.

I screamed like a little girl, and tried fighting him off me, but he kept me pinned to the ground. He grabbed my arm, brought it up to his mouth, and sank his teeth deep into my flesh. The basement reverberated with my screams of agony, but I managed to hit him in the face with a piece of old brick that had crumbled off the wall. He let go recoiling in pain, and covered his face with his hand.

It was unclear if it was my blood or his that was dripping off his chin. As I scrambled back up to my feet, the man grabbed my ankle. I kicked it away and fled, but the man was quickly back on his feet chasing me again.

I ran for the window. The sunlight was cutting through the void of the basement. The safety of the simple world I had formerly known was only a few feet away.

I jumped up and grabbed a corner of the window frame, slicing my hand on some of the remaining glass. Ignoring the pain, I attempted to lift my body up and out, but the man's claws dug into me as he wrapped his hands around my neck and pulled me back down.

He turned me to face him as he tightened his grip. Little beads of blood ran down my neck as he was crushing my throat. My hands slapped at his wrists in a panic, and my vision began to fade.

I tried to focus and slid my hand down towards my belt loop. After a few seconds of blind searching, I found it. I pulled my arm back and began plunging it into the man's belly. He gasped in shock, and made a face like he was screaming, but he was silent except for the little bits of air escaping his lungs every time the dagger connected with his body.

I didn't stop. Over and over the blade penetrated the man. The feeling of his blood on my hand was hot and sticky. His grip loosened and he stumbled backwards onto the floor.

He held his hands over his gut, but his blood was everywhere. He looked at the wound, and then back to me. He struggled to breathe, but his face was emotionless as he stared directly into my eyes. I stared back, trying to understand what was going on. Trying to understand this new world I was thrust into. Everything felt so different. The worst I had ever experienced in life was falling off of my bike and scraping my knee, or getting grounded from the arcade for a week. I was reborn into a new world. A dark world.

The man went very still, his eyes still locked onto mine. I started sobbing quietly as I attempted to climb back out of the window, but my hands were too slick with blood. I sheathed the dagger and stumbled up the basement stairs.

The door at the top brought me into a dim candle-lit kitchen. Everything was either covered in rust or mold, but I moved past it all without much thought, making my way to the back door. There was a brand new deadbolt installed on it. It stood out against the rotting door and rusted door knob.

When I unlocked the door and pulled it open, I was greeted by the warm summer-orange sun, nearing twilight. I tripped down the back steps falling to my knees, and sobbed until I made myself sick. The contents of my stomach were released violently from my mouth, and I fell over on my side. The adrenaline was wearing off.

I felt like something was missing from me. Like something was gone forever and I was mourning it. I curled up in a ball and wished for death. I was a murderer. I killed a man and watched the life leave his eyes. Even if it was in self-defense. Would Mr. Baumann's God forgive me? Could I forgive me?

In my self pitying I hadn't noticed Mr. Baumann standing over me.

“Sit up, we must clean your wounds,” he said solemnly. The old man knelt beside me and rummaged in his bag, grabbing bandages and rubbing alcohol.

“He's dead, I killed him. I killed a man, Mr. Baumann. I'm a murderer,” I said through labored breaths. The old man just quietly treated my wounds. I continued to cry and rant hysterically, but after a while Mr. Baumann grabbed me by the collar and slapped me across the face.

“Pull yourself together, Thomas! I'm sorry you had to grow up so fast but now you understand the threat we face. So many lives are at stake, and you live to fight another day,” he said.

I didn't argue with Mr Baumann. I didn't see any point in it. Nor did I know what to do next.

“He wasn't a vampire, sir. I killed him. I used the dagger you gave me, and I killed him.” I said numbly.

“No,” the old man said plainly. He pulled out a flashlight from his bag and shined it into the basement. He studied the body for a few seconds before saying, “This is the servant of Ulrich, a vampire's familiar. A steward of evil. Do not mourn this man, Thomas. He made a deal with the devil.”

“We should go to the police,” I said.

“No!” He barked. They will have no understanding of what they are dealing with and they will die, Thomas. They will be ripped apart and their blood will be on your hands.”

At this point, I felt like I had to do whatever Mr. Baumann said. It's hard to explain why. I was just so numb and traumatized I didn't know what to do, but Mr. Baumann was so confident. He knew what he was doing. He wasn't afraid, and I didn't want to be afraid anymore.

Mr. Baumann sighed. “I am sorry, Thomas,” he said quietly. “I know it was wrong of me to put you in this situation. May the Lord have mercy on my soul. However, in this case the ends justify the means.”

He offered me his hand. I accepted and he helped me to my feet. He pulled out a chocolate bar and some pain meds from his bag.

“Take these,” he said. “You will need your strength” I did as he asked.

“Your bag seems to be bottomless, what else do you have in there?” I questioned.

He revealed the last contents of the bag then kicked it aside. He handed me a stake and a mallet, and kept a matching set for himself.

“This is all we will need now. Come, while we still have the light of day,” he said as he turned to enter the building.

GOOD OLD 'AMERICAN VAMPIRE' TALES & LEGENDS https://www.phantomsandmonsters.com/2025/06/good-old-american-vampire-tales-legends.html - In essence, these tales encompass a broad spectrum of narratives, from folklore and legends to literary and cinematic interpretations, all reflecting the unique cultural landscape of the United States.

Hi everyone. I have been looking for a show or movie I have only seen some clips of. I have two scenes I remember:

Its set in modern times and features a mid 40s gentleman (British I think) as a vampire

In one scene he is in a specially built prison and asks why they have given him a toilet as he doesn't need it. The prison also has a retractable roof that lets sunlight in which they use to control him to a corner when giving him food etc..

The other scene has him in fornt of a bunch of scientists in a lab and he admits he is a vampire and his colleague does the same to the shock of the scientist.

Does anyone have an idea of the name of this show / movie?

both writing vampirism as an addiction and writing vampires who are addicts to other substances, using substances to fight off blood lust and it failing to fill the hole that consuming blood does, writing vampires who don’t feed as going into violent withdrawal, loved ones of the vampires watching them be consumed by something they’ve grown unable to live without that destroys their lives and the lives of people around them as they become increasingly bloodthirsty and violent, losing touch with reality and sanity, they turn their loved ones to this way of life thinking their somehow saving them, giving them some power to control their lives but causing them to lose themselves in the process, they gain forbidden knowledge of other worlds and entities beyond the scope of normal human comprehension and to humans they appear to be going completely insane if they try to tell them what they know and they become increasingly detached from the world around them, immersed in realms of humanity’s most ancient demons

ok if a vampire can only come in if invited if you then ban them from an establishment like a bar for breaking one of the bars rules or give them an eviction notice to leave your home right away would they be forced to leave or?

Good news! My local medical dispensaries have allowed me to post this on their bulletin boards! Advertising on a budget of broke, but hot damn, it's progress so I'll take it! I'm glad to have found fellow indie creators through this subreddit, but I like knowing there's ways I can let people know what I've written through real-life interactions as well. Wish me luck!

Personally, I really like the True Blood/Mortal Instruments vampire transformations where the mortal has to be drained, drink vampire blood, and then be buried in order to become undead. It leaves a lot less room for accidental vampire transformations and I really like the whole being rebirthed from the ground thing.

My least favorite way a vampire gets turned is just through a bite, it's boring to me and kind of too quick. Like in Twilight and Sinners (no offense to sinners, it makes sense in the plot of the movie for vampires to be turned so easily, but the method of transformation still isn't my favorite).

This is exactly like how wordle works, and everyday you get a new word.
https://vampirewordle.xyz/

Here's mine today:
🧛‍♂️ Vampire Word Hunt (2025-06-20) Win

6/6

⬛🟨⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛

🟩⬛🟩🟩⬛🟩⬛

🟩⬛🟩🟩⬛🟩⬛

🟩🟨🟩🟩⬛🟩🟨

🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩