Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


July 20th 2015 in Blather, Microfiction

“A-and you are …,” Stanislov stammered. “I am its Renfield,” she said. He nodded and she smiled. “Most expect a man named ‘Renfield’; it is a common misconception propagated by the Irishman’s ridiculous book. A Renfield is a class name – a guild, if you will, much like the Freemasons.” “Ah,” Stanislov replied, not taking notes for fear she would see his hand shake. “It has returned to its homeland as it must every 200 years or so. It’s body will rest and replenish itself; its mind will be awake and aware.” “He’s at the castle now?” Stanislov asked, suddenly alarmed. “It,” she corrected, “not he. They are genderless. And, yes, it’s there now.” A silence fell between them. “Don’t worry; you will work directly with me,” she said softly. “All that is required is that you keep people away – hunters, researchers, the curious, and other idiots. It will not be dormant, do you understand? It will not be hibernating and, if provoked …” Stanislov shuddered, no longer caring if the Renfield saw. “He … it … will kill them.” “No,” she said very firmly, “it will kill everyone.” “A town this size,” Stanislov whispered. “Would be a light snack,” she finished, laughing.

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