Dusk It was love at first sight. Annabella was stumbling along the corridor of the hostel, hr suitcases in tow, becoming more and more exasperated as she juggled the room key, umbrella, tour guide brochure, water bottle, and Louis Vuitton handbag, cursing the day when she had decided to go to Rome on her tour of Europe and ended up in Romania instead. When she reached the room door she wrenched the knob, finding it yield unexpectedly. There he was, his feet wedged neatly in the railing of the top of the bunk bed, hanging upside down enwrapped in a big black cloak. The light from the hallway illumined him, in a room that was otherwise plunged in darkness by the window blinds. A faint scent of shampoo mingled with eau de cologne wafted toward Annabella from the dashing shock of raven black hair, which rippled as it hung. She swooned. When she came to, the fluorescent lights of the room were on, the cloak had vanished, and a dashingly handsome young man, whose anaemic skin glowed like Penthelian marble, was gazing into her face with amber eyes brilliant with consternation. “I say, are you all right, dear lady?”, he inquired in a cutglass Oxbridge accent, which rang mellifluously in tones that reminded her of the clear dark sap of the pine. She swooned again. When she woke up, his eyes were fixed with strange intensity on her throat. “Those earrings look great, don’t they?” Annabella – Anna for short – asked, flattered. His nose dilated slightly as if he were taking in a scent. Then he answered, politely enthusiasm, “Indubitably.” He offered his hand to pull her up again, and its perfect chilliness sent another frisson up and down her spine. The skin, which she surreptitiously caressed, was supple, much like the marble which it resembled in its most polished state. “Why were you sleeping upside down?” Anna asked, curiously. After a moment’s pause, he drawled, “I am endeavouring to improve my intelligence, by promoting blood circulation to the cerebrum.”
“Oh, I’d like to try that, too!” she exclaimed. “Very well, milady,” and he chivalrously supported her up the bunk bed ladder and then helped her to hang properly. “I feel woozy!” she shrieked, giggling. “And I wish to resume my nap,” and in a moment he was inverted again, with an agility born of practice. But he did not sleep at all, keeping one eye open and eyeing Anna’s throat with it again. “If you really want the earrings, I’ll give them to you,” she offered, “but the pink doesn’t match your outfit. You’re not gay, are you?” “No, I am most certainly not. Many thanks for your generous offer, milady,” he said. The other amber eye opened with startling rapidity and narrowed in on the earring, too. He bent toward Anna, evidently (as she thought) overcome by the proximity of an attractive female. But his aim was off, and as he headed for her neck she told him, “My mouth is over here.” At that, he halted and laughed – his laugh was not nearly as mellifluous as his speech, as it had a distinct cackling tendency – and she heaved a profound sigh and the thought crossed Annabella’s mind that enough blood had rushed to her head already. But, she reminded herself, she still had a major crush on him. Who knows what would have happened next, when the door (which her roommate had closed in the meantime) flew open and an even handsomer young man coiffed in auburn tresses stepped in. He held in his hand a piece of pita bread, which he was dunking in a little bowl of white dip. The invertee screeched, “Tzatziki?! Oswald, you have killed me!”, and vanished in a puff of smoke. “Omigod! What happened?!” she screamed, as a teaspoonful of ashes dusted the carpet. “He was a vampire,” answered Oswald, in American English with a faint southern drawl,
“and that’s what happens to oldschool vampires when they scent garlic.” “Wow, that’s so cool. But shouldn’t he have a Transylvanian accent?” A ruby spark kindling his ocular organs, Oswald explained, “Dead people can travel outside their home country and learn other languages just like everyone else. Shouldn’t they have the same rights as you do?” “OK, then. By the way, if there are oldschool vampires, does that mean that there are newschool vampires too?” “Yeah, definitely.” “How are they different?” “Well, for one thing, they can see themselves in mirrors.” “And another thing?” “They aren’t” – and here he hopped up beside Annabella as diligently as his deceased friend – “affected by garlic.” “Ohhhh,” she drawled. Then she stared into the mesmeric depths of his eyes, feeling a growing sentimental connection, when he bent his head and very affectionately nipped at her neck. “You’d better get a BandAid for that,” she told him. Oswald only lapped up the blood a little. “Ew, gross! That’s unhygienic!” Annabella exclaimed. He only rolled his eyes, turned into a bat, and flew off. Ever since then, Anna reflected a week later, when by chance she had ended up in Rome, she had been feeling a little weird. She would never stay at a hostel again!