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What. The. Fuck. (Narrative)
He had felt dawn's arrival and the club had closed just like every other night. The people shuffling out, reluctant to leave behind the interesting sights and experiences they'd enjoyed. The human crew cleaning up after their messy brethren. A light snack, and then he had sent Pam and the other vampires to their homes, electing to stay in this safe place at Fangtasia for the day.
Once during the scorching daylight hours he'd awakened. He had been very disoriented. Felt like he had too much sleep. But he could still sense the sun and knew that it was high, not at all time for him to be awake. After a brief struggle with himself, Eric managed to get back to sleep. Even then it was not as restful as he was used to. It felt as if he were hovering just beyond wakefulness. He felt, for some reason, hunted. There were no sounds to evidence somebody being on his property, no smells. But he felt as if something was really really wrong.
When night fell, finally, Eric left his sanctum expecting to find the day staff finishing up with their chores. Instead he found nobody. Nothing. The club itself was unchanged, but there were no faces that he should expect. No new deliveries. Yet when he checked the bottles of liquor, they were all full. In actuality, nothing was lacking or running low in any area that he looked. He wondered if the delivery slips had just been misplaced.
Eric moved with quickness around the space that he had created and discovered that it didn't quite feel right. It didn't smell the same. It was off, just a little bit. And the delivery slips were nowhere to be found. His office was a little bit too tidy. The basement held no signs of humans ever being there, at all. The things he knew should be in place, his chair, the bar, the seats of the club, his desk, all of that was there, but the tiny signs of life were all gone. It was eerie and Eric didn't like it one bit.
He moved to the front door and unlocked it. Being extra careful now, his senses on alert for anything that might be wrong out there, he stayed behind the door as he opened it, watching for that line of sunlight that he was almost positive would come spilling through. When it didn't, he peered around and into the night. It was night, and he was very glad of that. He didn't know if he could take any other blow to What Should Be after what he was seeing outside.
It was not Shreveport.
It wasn't even Louisiana.
Where the hell was he?
Once during the scorching daylight hours he'd awakened. He had been very disoriented. Felt like he had too much sleep. But he could still sense the sun and knew that it was high, not at all time for him to be awake. After a brief struggle with himself, Eric managed to get back to sleep. Even then it was not as restful as he was used to. It felt as if he were hovering just beyond wakefulness. He felt, for some reason, hunted. There were no sounds to evidence somebody being on his property, no smells. But he felt as if something was really really wrong.
When night fell, finally, Eric left his sanctum expecting to find the day staff finishing up with their chores. Instead he found nobody. Nothing. The club itself was unchanged, but there were no faces that he should expect. No new deliveries. Yet when he checked the bottles of liquor, they were all full. In actuality, nothing was lacking or running low in any area that he looked. He wondered if the delivery slips had just been misplaced.
Eric moved with quickness around the space that he had created and discovered that it didn't quite feel right. It didn't smell the same. It was off, just a little bit. And the delivery slips were nowhere to be found. His office was a little bit too tidy. The basement held no signs of humans ever being there, at all. The things he knew should be in place, his chair, the bar, the seats of the club, his desk, all of that was there, but the tiny signs of life were all gone. It was eerie and Eric didn't like it one bit.
He moved to the front door and unlocked it. Being extra careful now, his senses on alert for anything that might be wrong out there, he stayed behind the door as he opened it, watching for that line of sunlight that he was almost positive would come spilling through. When it didn't, he peered around and into the night. It was night, and he was very glad of that. He didn't know if he could take any other blow to What Should Be after what he was seeing outside.
It was not Shreveport.
It wasn't even Louisiana.
Where the hell was he?