Fright Night 1. Part One Devil Came Down to Georgia

Fright Night (2011) Prequel

Part One

The Devil Came Down to Georgia

_(Author)_

_ Okay, something has come unwired in my brain. I blame all of you who have made the Fright Night remake interesting; Vendehla you're one of them! Shame on you! Oh, I am still madly in love with the real Fright Night; not a problem. But, damn it, I just have these flood of ideas and I haven't even watched the damn remake twice yet. Oh, it just came in the mail and I'm waiting for my brat to get home so we can sit down and experience it together a second time in three years. Before I even watch the darn thing again I'm already vomiting all over the computer remake stuff! Maybe it's because Collin Ferrell has somewhat grown on me these past two weeks because, I ain't stupid, he is a fox in his own right; no he's no Chris Sarandon (1985) because that's a whole other class of vampire. They play two separate types of vampires with the same name. I guess that's how I've come to see the remake; two different movies with the same name; that's how you have see things to make a real separation. _

_ Well, I hope y'all enjoyed the last tidbit I wrote giving the new guy Jerry a bit more 'breathing' room. Well, I'm not sure, right at this moment, where this is going to go but I do have this really creepy image of a woman in my head at this very moment. Where is it going to fit into the remake? The hell if I know! I'm playing this by ear instead of planning ahead; sorta how it went with the other two remake fan fictions. I'm gonna take a deep breath and let my remake vomit continue! Okay, another thing that has possessed me with this strange ability to write shit for the remake. There's a song I've had on repeat for the past thirty minutes called Chainsaw by SleetGrout. I think that's pushing me along as well creating this creepy chick image. You know what; maybe this isn't an exact entrance into the remake; just thought of something! OMG! *points into nowhere* THERE IT IS! I FOUND IT! *runs for it*_

_ If you believe I have lost my ever loving mind; all you remake lovers' fault! *points accusingly at everyone* Yep, so leave me alone! *runs away &amp; runs into the brick wall that is the Fright Night remake* BASTARDS!_

Little suburbia outside of Las Vegas recently went into shock by some really strange happenings that resulted in explosions and some serious vampire butt kicking. Charley Brewster and Peter Vincent saved the town and the world from vampire domination! But, wait, why did it happen there? Why didn't it happen elsewhere? Why had the wife-beater wearing, pick-up driving, and studly vampire Jerry Dandridge choose that particular location to begin a vampire uprising? Had he attempted elsewhere and failed? What took him so damned long to get things going? So many questions that are aimed at events that led to the suburban nightmare's decision to unleash hell in that particular suburban neighborhood. So, where had this demon vampire in a stunningly good looking guy's skin gone before the finale? Hmm? Let's see shall we? Where had he lived and entertained on taking over before meeting a surprising end?

Hmm?

Where…?

It was another typical ending for summer in the good old southern state of Georgia. Mid August, typically one of the hottest and more humid times of summer, signaled the beginning of the school year for most of the state. The humid mornings are a stagnant mid seventies temperature, streets clustered with parents carting their kids to school and by the overly heated late afternoon again those streets are jammed with traffic bringing those same kids home. It was the same for historical mini metropolis founded in the early eighteen hundreds; an old mining community now spanning outward from the historical district with fast food restaurants of all flavors, gas stations aplenty, and every other type of business expanding the city limits; the city limits of Villa Rica. Those expanding changes were easy for most residents; the older neighborhoods remained the same while newer subdivisions sprouted rapidly with house after newly constructed house. Hovering along the edge of the expansion was another rapidly rising community, nearly approaching its own identity with a strip mall, banks, and hundreds of millions of dollars worth of towering houses clustered together within multiple subdivisions. The steadily growing community of Mirror Lake had become a prime location for any desiring family and anything looking to purchase a piece of property. That was the perfect set up for a particular new addition to the community; a single male amongst a swarm of families by the name of Jerry Dandridge.

For this newcomer, buying a house dab smack in the center of the growing community was the perfect way to scope out a potential ignition to a long awaited scheme. He was unafraid of letting himself be known to the community; no one would suspect an attractive bachelor making a humble living as a construction worker for the city of Atlanta, so he would have them think. He was doing construction alright but not on any of those interstates or highways or growing high rises; all construction was within the confines of his newly acquired home. There was plenty to prepare and plenty of time to do so while keeping up his good old boy image with the locals. He had it good; the neighbors believed he was gone during the day sweating in the heat flexing his muscles while assisting in causing those long traffic jams on interstate 20 when in fact he was sleeping in the comforts of his home until night fell. It was at night the charms were unleashed on those unsuspecting neighbors; flashing a smile here and there. He trolled the beer aisle at the local Publix grocery store getting eyed by married and unmarried women. He picked the ripest fruits from the large produce section while inauspiciously eyeing the ripest of human pickings to satisfy his other significant tastes. So, polite were these southern folks and blind as hell to what truly hid behind his attractive dark eyes.

There were many times he found himself approached by every type of woman imaginable; from the sickeningly shy and newly high school graduated eighteen year old girl to the overly perky typical housewife. Yet, he was careful; didn't want any suspicion to come his way; so typically he would admit flattery, give them a sample of his charms and simply purchase his beer and fruits and left them wanting more as he strutted out the store towards his parked motorcycle. Once or twice, possibly more, he would find one of those eager ladies following him then tossing out their number; more amused by the housewives because of their willingness to have temporary memory loss about their husbands. He would eventually take them up on their offers; return to his humble digs, whip out the prepaid cell phone and dial theirs. There were times they would freeze up and realize their guilty actions then apologize for attempting to be a floozy; onto the next. Then there would be the one ready and willing; typically the housewives who were tired of being left home all alone while their husbands were off pulling in the big dough. So easy they were when their marriages bored them. He would swoon them into making arrangements to meet him or possibly come to his home. Most of the time they would request a daytime meeting which he quickly explained was impossible because of his line of construction work. They would quickly submit to an evening rendezvous but were cautious with their lies to their husbands.

Once the call was finished he would discard the cell phone and purchase another from the local Wal-Mart. No links to his part in their supposedly willing disappearance. Those perky housewives were typically used for sustenance instead of being prepared for another purpose. Yet, always careful, he would space out those housewives. The ladies he played with for a short time but a leader always needed some male testosterone amongst the females. So, he would choose a young man here and there, simply rip into them and bury them with the rest of his collectives. There was always an overflow of youthfulness amongst those he collected; nothing too old for he had to think of the appearance of his lovely growing collection.

And, so, Jerry Dandridge continued with his life and its mission within that southern community. Another night after a restful day he awoke in typical fashion. About that hour most families were gathering preparing to sit down for their meals as he prepared for his own type of meal. He showered; had to smell good after a day of construction sweat; then dressed appropriately in that good old boy fashion. Once dressed in his typical somewhat warn denim jeans, a gray wife-beater, and a simple navy blue button down and, of course, his favorite pair of slightly worn biker boots, he grabbed a beer from the fridge then strolled to the living room flipping on the television to check up on the local pro team's progress; had to learn as much about the area in order to strike up small talk with potential meals. Once the beer was downed he tossed the amber bottle into the trash he'd snatch up a ripe apple then step into the attached garage through the interior door flicking on the interior light illuminating his precious hog.

With a push of a button the garage door rose up allowing the humidity weighed evening hair to flow inside. He wasn't bothered by the humidity; damned cold most of the time. He bit into the apple and held it with his teeth and lips while rolling the motorcycle out from the garage. It was time for some local fun. It was a Saturday evening and a concert event was at the local venue called The Mill where just about every resident attended to support their community. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect but knew there had to be some stragglers he could easily pick off. So, he tossed the apple, chewed on the large juicy chunk then mounted the bike followed by revving the engine. The bike rolled from the newly paved driveway and sped through the maze of roads throughout the massive subdivision. Onto the Mirror Lake's main road then into the main city limits rolling towards the historical district. It was a short drive, a few miles, and there he was, amongst the living. He parked the Harley on a side street just over the railroad tracks and dismounted. He was surprised by the amount of folks; the street where the venue was located was blocked off with orange cones and construction type sawhorses. People were everywhere and practically overloaded his senses with multiple arrays of human scents.

The entertainment for the venue, Velcro Pigmies, hadn't started yet but the people of Villa Rica were swarming like flies prepared to show their community support. Every age range; from babies in strollers to elderly with walkers cluttered the entire grounds surrounding the stage. He moved towards the venue walking along the side street. His eyes were watchful of all his surrounding, mainly focused on studying each passerby. He was intrigued by the variety of men and women. Couples walked hand in hand; mere middle school youths to up in age adults. It seemed that humble mini metropolis was filled with all walks of human life. All types of groups he spied; clusters of loudly chatting teens and sweet families controlling rambunctious children. Perhaps finding a straggler in that bunch might not be as easy as first thought. He had to give it a shot; he was damned starved. There were a few familiar faces amongst the chaos; neighbors and employees from the grocery store and a few of those wandering eyed housewives. The one thing he enjoyed was how instantly every age range of female was immediately drawn to take him in with their glazing over eyes. He simply spread his lips into that deceptively charming smile which made them silently swoon.

Well, the evening went on; the eighties tribute band amazingly was entertaining and got the entire crowd of residents hyped and cheering and many dancing before the colorfully lit stage. He enjoyed watching and studying people; standing back keeping his eyes on lookout for a meal prospect. The hours passed and there were a few prospects; again he was persistently approached by ladies of all ages where conversation was to a minimum. Nearing the end of the festivities he finally snagged himself the perfect meal item. She hadn't come alone, came with a group of college buddies who had unknowingly encouraged her to place her at the top of his grocery list. He went all out, charms and all; flashing that stunning smile and flirtatious dark eyes. It really took no serious effort to have her practically falling all over herself. Within at least thirty minutes her hands were already touching his arms or more daringly, his chest; yep, she was hooked and almost ready to be reeled in. He used his charming laugh though he had no understanding what the hell he was laughing about but it seemed to draw her in even further. Whatever worked he used it; though it never really took much at all.

The show was over and people began to scatter returning to their vehicles; it was merely ten. He stood on the sidewalk surrounding the venue watching his soon to be meal giddily explaining to her group of friends she was leaving with him. He could easily add her to the collective but had no desire to actually bring her back to his humble abode; plucking from such a public event made him more cautious so typically he would feed somewhere else and leave them where they lay. This twenty year old college student; he believed her name was something like Tiffany, one of those perky girl names; she came bouncing away from her departing friends who were practically cheering her on. Stupid college kids; he thought to himself while smiling upon her return; all of them were half in the bag drunk including, he believes, Tiffany. She eagerly grabbed onto his arm for staggering support and he escorted down the side street towards his bike. Oh, she giggled and giggled thinking herself truly lucky having happened upon him; he kept smiling and couldn't wait to get it over and done with to put her giggles on permanent mute.

Once mounted on his bike, she putting on the helmet, he asked where she would like to go. She literally hugged him with her arms happily wrapping around him, "I don't know." She continued to giggle with her face pressed between his shoulder blades. He had to do all the thinking; he somewhat shook his head. Well, he hadn't quite visited the old cemetery tucked in a secluded corner on the back outskirts of the Mirror Lake community. "Surprise me!" she sang too loudly followed by another giggle. "Okay," he sang right back starting up the bike and giving a few good revs. He was going to surprise her alright; the thought made his smile brighten a bit more sinisterly. He backed the bike from the angled parking space then hit the gas carefully pulling passed the local police station inconveniently across the street from the venue.

The traffic was a bitch just getting back over the railroad tracks but after a while the bike sped onto Highway 78 that led straight out of town. Tiffany, he still wasn't sure if that was her name, continued to giggle as he turned the bike onto the main Mirror Lake Drive and drove passed his subdivision moving them into the barely lit outskirts of the community. No other vehicles were around as the single beam headlight of his bike lit the way. The bike sped past newly developing subdivision and gradually the sides of the roads faded from suburban development into untouched nature. No more random streetlights or residential homes; the perfect peaceful and secluded environment for him to focus on a little play time followed by feeding time. Ahead was the two-track that led to the secluded cemetery. Why he hadn't used it before? It was perfect for his needs; an old and almost forgotten cemetery. The bike slowed and carefully rolled onto the two-track and his passenger finally took notice where they had gone. "I know this!" he heard her practically shout in his ear with that heavy southern drawl slightly slurred by alcohol, "In high school, my friends and I used to come out here late at night!" All he heard was, 'blah-blah-blah-and blah'. "Oh, yeah, this is the old Proctor cemetery!" she continued shouting in his ear which was about make him stop the bike right there and shut her up.

The headlight beamed forward down the center of the slightly overgrown two-track. Tiffany or whatever her name was, suddenly unwrapped an arm from around him and pointed at what looked like another two-track branching off from the main one. "Yeah, if you go up that there's the old Proctor place!" she kept on shouting; really started to piss him off, "And up ahead it's the Proctor family cemetery! It's really spooky at night. Are you sure you wanna go there?"

The sooner he got there the better! He just nodded and kept the bike balanced and steadily moving passed the branching two-track. "They say it's haunted!" her shouts continued, "When me and my friends went up there we got the shit scared outta us 'cause Shawn Carroll said he saw some eyeballs glowin' in one of the windows! We all screamed and ran outta there so damned fast it was funny!" She laughed loudly. Well, he thought, she hasn't seen scary yet which prompted him to chuckle a bit. "Oh, there it is!" she shouted flinging her arm over his shoulder and pointing forward at the old iron fencing that lined the old Proctor family cemetery, "You best just park it here 'cause you can't go driving passed the gate." Fine by him; he planted his boots to the two-track turning the engine off then used the tip of his boot to flip out the kickstand. What's her face quickly got off the bike before him pulling off the helmet, her hairspray doused bleach blonde hair without a dent. As he dismounted the bike she was already skipping her way to toward the half opened and leaning rusted Iron Gate. He was going to have the time of his life shutting that one up. "Come on!" he listened to her shout, again, but thankfully not in his ear this time but her high pitched southern drawl was about to give him a damned headache.

Tiffany, if that's her name, slipped passed the gate. "Damn, you didn't happen to bring yourself a flashlight did you?" she turned to look back at him. Her eyes frowned, where the hell did he go? "Hey!" she shouted, "Where'd you go?" She looked around, saw the sheen of the motorcycle as the light from the half moon somewhat dulled the darkness. She crossed her arms over her chest with her head shifting about with her eyes following, "Hey, don't go tryin' to scare me now!" she yelled out, "It's already creepy enough!"

"Boo!" he shouted which sent her into the loudest damn high pitched scream which practically startled him. His eyes grimaced as the scream seemed never ending; felt as if his head were going to explode from such torture.

Her scream finally faded then she scolded him, "Damn it, why'd you do that?!" she cuffed his shoulder, "You almost made me piss myself!"

"Sorry." He sort of apologized; it was pretty much playtime. Not desiring another high squeaking word to come out of her big mouth, he grabbed her by the face and reluctantly planted one on her. He could taste the booze the very moment he kissed her and when she breathed heavily the taste was even worse. Perhaps playtime could be shortened and head straight into feeding time. Time to get rid of the boozy taste in his mouth. He shifted one hand grabbing the stiff mess of blonde hair jerking her head to the side. "Hey, not so rough, huh." He heard that annoying voice of hers again. He rolled his eyes; they filled with complete blackness. Now he wanted her to really experience scary. He turned her head then flashed his pearly white fangs which didn't exactly shut her up. She went into another high pitched, ear shattering scream upon seeing his fangs. He rolled his eyes; she started go into a struggle fit while he tightly gripped her hair and continued to scream. That's it; he was through with her damned voice! He swiftly brought his fanged mouth over hers and she still screamed but quickly she went silent with brightly painted eyes gone wide in horror. After a slight gurgling sound he pulled back with blood trickling down his chin. His blackened eyes indulged in the horror radiating from her wide eyes. He released her hair and she went stumbling backwards slapping her hands over her mouth; blood oozed between her fingers.

With a toss of his head he spat out the large chunk of her tongue he had effortlessly tore from her big mouth. His hand wiped across his mouth and chin. "That's better," he commented having silenced her in the most part; she was basically left mumbling incoherently while backing way keeping her mouth covered. He jumped forward, arms flung up, and fingers twisted into claws then shouted, "BOO!" which sent her spinning around running out of the cemetery. He darted to the left with a chuckle.

Poor what's her name stumbled as she ran passed the psycho's Harley. She tried to scream but only blood spewed from her mouth. She whined while trying to make her way down the bumpy two-track. "Where you going?" she heard his voice come from the surrounding shadows, "I'm not through with you yet!" She murmured what was an ill attempt at a scream of horror then continued stumbling about the two-track in desperation. Her damned flip-flops kept tripping her up, snagging onto some exposed roots and rocks. She found herself staggering, the blood continuing to drain from her mouth. Suddenly the back of her hair was snatched and her head was swiftly pulled back exposing the front of her throat. Unable to scream her wide eyes watched the gleam of his fangs catch the moonlight. She gurgled loudly the moment those moonlit fangs ripped into the front of her throat; her body began to twitch and convulse as her blood was sucked from her body with ease. Her skin grew pale beneath the layers of makeup, eyes became vacant, and finally her entire body went limp dropping hard down onto the two-track.

He hummed with delight; she might have been annoying but she sure hit the spot. His tongue licked over his bloodied lips and again he hummed. He again wiped his hand over his mouth smearing the bloody evidence. Firstly he strolled up to his hog, flipped open the leather saddlebag and removed a hacksaw; can't have a high pitched twit coming back from the dead. He returned to what's her name's drained corpse then knelt down placing a hand over her wide eyed face. His lips lightly puckered and a playful whistle sounded as the toothy blade of the hacksaw was placed into the center of the gaping wound at the front of big mouth's throat. He continued to whistle while he worked dragging that hacksaw easily back and forth sawing into the muscle. The whistling stopped as he gritted his teeth together beginning the process of sawing through the bone. With steady and pressure saws back and forth the bone was cut through then the remaining flesh at the back of the neck. Before standing he wiped the saw blade across that woman's pastel blue tee shirt. He returned the hacksaw into the saddlebag then stepped back to the decapitated whoever she was.

Bending down he scooped up her limp body and flung it over his shoulder then leaned down snatching the severed head by the bleached hair. Thankfully she gave him an idea of a good place to dispose of her; the old Proctor house that was up the branching off two-track. He turned from the bike and effortlessly carried the drained body, while swinging the head back and forth, down the two-track then stepped onto the one that led to the said house. He marched up the overgrown inclined two-track; less used than the other. In no time he reached the end and peered up at a three story abandoned structure; surrounding it was a barbwire fence hung with old metal 'no trespassing' signs. He stepped to the fence and tossed the body and head over then gripped one of the fence posts ripping it easily from the ground which dropped the fence to the ground. He stepped over the bundled barbwire, again scooped up the body and head then preceded toward the front porch of the brick structure. His boots stomped up the stone laid steps of the front porch which was held up by white paint chipped pillars. He moved to the front door where two wood planks were nailed in the form of an 'X' with sprayed graffiti. He again dropped the body and head then grabbed hold of one plank, jerked it effortlessly free followed by the other. Scooping up the body and head for a third time, he kicked the door in which swung violently and struck the wall.

He stepped over the threshold and peered around; moonlight seeped through the cracks of the boarded main floor windows. Before him was a set of wooden stairs. He shook his head; nope, the cellar of the old place was best for disposal. He marched along the corridor stretched beside the staircase moving towards the back of the house. The boards persistently creaked but were pretty sturdy since houses of its age were always built on sturdy foundations. He paused near the back of the house; his eyes frowned then from above he heard the second level floorboards creak as if someone else was within the decrepit structure. His head tilted back and eyes looked up at the plaster pealing ceiling. Perhaps an animal; he guessed then continued forward. He moved through an entryway at his right finding a kitchen oddly still filled with typical kitchen items but everything heavily coated in decades of dust. Most houses the kitchen is where you find the entrance into the cellar. He kicked a door open; nope, a butler's pantry. He moved to another door, kicked it in; nope, the entrance to a side screened porch. He moved to the final door and kicked that in; yep, the cellar. He simply flung the body over his shoulder and watched it tumbled and fall down into the blackened abyss of the cellar. He lifted the head with both hands and winked at the frozen wide eyed express then did a little bowling move sending that head rolling and bouncing down the old stairs. His brushed his hands together then reached closing the cellar door.

_(Author Interruption: Sorry, I am officially apologizing for my previous 2011 Fright Night fan fiction the one with Alice. Just finished watching the movie and DAMN IT I fucked up like big time on details! I am sorry but at least it was entertaining if you take out my boo-boos! Again, sorry!)_

He took a step back and began turning around; a quick flash of movement caught his eye. He froze for a moment; brows frowned questioning if his own immortal eyeballs were playing a tricks on him. He shook it off and moved out of the kitchen. He glanced around the old place; good workmanship; his eyes took some time studying the original woodwork. To his left was a set of stairs identical to the stairs at the entrance. His hand patted against the strong wooden banister, "Nice," he commented then prepared to leave but again his eyes caught a flash of movement which was shown through the moonlight being blocked at the top of those stairs then his ears picked up another creaking sound. His head tilted curiously; he sniffed the air but picked up no aroma indicating someone, as in mortal, was in the house. He leaned back at the foot of the stairs taking a look up the wooden stretch. He thought for a moment remembered something what's her face mentioned about someone having seen glowing eyes in one of the windows of the old plantation styled house. His head shook; couldn't be.

He continued along the corridor almost casually while licking clean the corners of his mouth. He reached the front door and paused finding the door closed remembering it being open. His eyes again frowned then shifted side to side suspiciously. Again his keen hearing caught another creaking sound coming from above. His head tilted back and eyes looked up at the ceiling. It wouldn't be good at all if there happened to be someone in that house. Perhaps a dirty homeless person happened to be hiding upstairs; the filth happened to cover up the mortal scent. "Oh well," he hummed then turned around facing the front stairs; time to clean up before things got too messy. He moved onto the stairs and made his way up. It was sure damned tricky being what he was; constantly having to watch his damned back for any little slip up that could put a hindrance on his mission. There was always something to do or someone to do in. Loose ends weren't allowed in his line of work, not even some crazy homeless person that no one would believe but it was still a necessary to take care of.

Onto a landing his boots stomped. Again he sniffed the air trying to catch that familiar scent. It was starting to bug the hell out him; what homeless person would smell that bad it would cover up something so easily detectable? He just couldn't imagine sinking his teeth into something that filthy; he practically gagged imagining something so nasty. Just a quick twist of the neck with this one; he thought to himself while stepping around the spiral curve of the banister. His nails grown into their claw-like state tapping against the faded varnish of the banister. His eyes scanned around the landing while his ears listened carefully for any further movements. Someone was there, he just had that feeling. It looked as if he were in for a game of hide and seek; he huffed, just so much work. "Alright," he spoke out, "I know your there so you might as well come out." He stepped along the rail lining the staircase opening scraping his nails along the dust, pealing up a thin layer of the aged wood. Again he listened carefully and finally a noise and it came from the right on the other side of the rail. His head snapped to the right where he spotted a door halfway open then a distinct motion was visible by the moonlight again being blocked out. "Hmm," he hummed and moved for the door. Just as he reached for it the door slammed followed by the sound of the door locking. He grabbed the old brass doorknob and gave it a firm twist with his jaw clenched; the internal mechanism loudly snapped. His lips perked with a smile. He took a slight step back then slammed the sole of his boot against the door forcing it inward; it crashed back against the interior wall of the room.

He eased his way through the doorway, his eyes quickly scanning the room. Again he sniffed the air not picking up the damned mortal scent which was becoming a tad bit frustrating. His fangs sprouted in response to the growing frustrations; wasn't in any mood to fuck around or be fucked around with. His arm reached and hand grabbed the door then swung it slamming it closed behind him. His eyes searched the shadows within what was a bedroom; dust and furniture decay heavy within the stale and stagnant air. He crossed his arms over his chest; could practically feel some sort of eyeballs on him coming from somewhere in that rectangular room. If this was some homeless person he was going to throw them out the window as punishment for being annoying. Damn, what if was just some animal he's getting frustrated with? He shook his head; an animal wouldn't slam and lock a door. "Okay, games over." He called out to whoever was hiding, "You obviously saw what I did and so there's no way around this, you're dead." He wasn't one to beat around the bush; straight down to business which was the one motto he thrived to live by. He took a few steps forward keeping a close watch of his surroundings. "So, let's get it over and done with," he again spoke out, "Just come out, come out wherever the hell you are."

His eyes looked to the old bed to the far right; the frame broken causing the mattress cockeyed down against the floor. Why is it they always insist on hiding under the damned bed? He shook his head and uncrossed his arms. He moved towards the bed but before he reached it another peculiar sound came from behind him. With a quick spin his body aimed at the fireplace at the far wall and noticed a cloud of ash billowing from the fireplace opening. "What the…" he mumbled with his brows again frowning. He marched toward the fireplace hearing the distinct sound of something making its way up the chimney. This was no homeless person, something was definitely off. He stopped before the rising cloud of ash; his eyes followed up the wall to the ceiling while listening to the distinct scraping sounds moving steadily to the third floor above.

He quickly left the bedroom and marched out onto the landing then made a quick search of the third floor access. Door after door he kicked open throughout the second floor; bathrooms and bedrooms but no third story access. He was beyond frustrated knowing damned well something other than some simple bum was inside that house. Something saw what he did and that he wasn't having. What he was dealing with wasn't totally clear; could it be another vampire? Usually his instincts picked on the presence of another immortal. He froze and stared up at the pealing ceiling; the distinct sound of rushing feet moved above and his eyes closely followed. Drywall dust drifted down from above with each motion and lightly dusted about his tensed features. His eyes held closely to every motion while his ears listened closely. Slowly his moved keeping his eyes on the ceiling; each of his steps followed the direction of those distinctive motions from above. He was going to get his hands on whatever it was not matter the method and the moment was right there. "Gotchya," he snickered then with ease he leapt upward sending his fists tearing through the fragile ceiling then grabbed what felt like a damned ankle. He clung to the slightly crumbling ceiling with his one arm halfway through the busted opening.

"I got you!" he almost laughed feeling whoever or whatever trying to pull free then, "Ouch!" he grumbled and pulled his arm back out of the busted opening. He remained clung effortlessly to the ceiling; his eyes looked to his hand discovering a pretty nasty bite, "Damn that stings." He dug his claws into the ceiling and maneuvered looking up through the hole. Something damn well bit him and that he wasn't going allow unpunished. Things got pretty quiet as he continued to peer up through the hole, "Where the hell are you?" he grumbled with his lips slightly pulled back snarling his fangs. He sniffed the dank air coming from the hole; now he picked up on the scent because whoever or whatever was close by; definitely not mortal. He dropped back and landed firmly onto the hardwood floor below. His eyes focused one more time on that hole. No mortal meant there was no real worrying about his secret being revealed or spoken of. He lifted his bitten hand then licked his tongue across the bite wound and within moments it faded with no remnants besides some blood. He left to the stairs and made his way down.

Within the hole in the ceiling came a motion then a quick flash of what looked like two eyes catching the bit of moonlight. Upward through that hole a figure moved swiftly within the dark third story attic space aimed toward the circular window where moonlight streamed through. The moonlight was blocked upon the figure moving before the window. From the window, peering down at the ground below, eyes again reflected the moonlight. Far below those eyes watched Jerry Dandridge leave the old house; he disappeared down the overgrown two-track.

Jerry stopped once under the cover of the tree canopy hovered over the two-track. He turned having that same sense of being watched. His eyes scanned up the front of the massive structure and stopped at the circular window on the third floor. Just as what's her name mentioned, he saw two distinctive orbs reflecting the moonlight within the dark window. He wasn't sure what he was dealing with but had more important matters to focus on. At least he knew where to find whatever it was; he knew one thing for sure, had a pretty human feeling ankle but a bite about as nasty as his own. He left with that lingering sense of eyes on him. Even as he retrieved his motorcycle, that damned feeling wouldn't go away. It was like having a song stuck in your head and you can't pin point the damned name. He returned to his humble digs to continue on as usual and knew it wasn't like whatever it is will go calling the police department.


	2. Part Two Invading Jerry's Space

Fright Night (2011) Prequel

Part Two

Invading Jerry's Space

_(Author)_

_So, what are we thinking? Hmm? Who knows with all of you weirdoes! So, what do you think is in that house? Well, y'all gonna find out. Am I the only one who thought it was justified that Jerry killed What's Her Face? Ha-Ha! I knew I wasn't! _

Well, it wasn't long after that Jerry Dandridge got rid of the Harley and purchased a whole other mighty steed; a large gray pick-up with a hefty diesel engine. He continued his household remodeling while keeping it cool amongst the living natives. His life was a ritual performance; tediously working clearing out an area beneath the house; a few perspective individuals already chosen and placed within the dirt made walls. Not too many questioned his nightly work; hell he was a construction worker and pretty damned talented doing some updates with his own home. Let them believe what they want; fine by him. He took his weekly trips to Publix refurbishing his beer and fruit supply while getting that much ego boost from the ladies. The chosen meals lasted a few days while kept in one of the makeshift cells in the large basement; tucked secretively away through a hidden entrance behind a floor to ceiling tool shelf. Occasionally he would catch a missing person's flyer or announcement in the paper then at times those faces would pop up on the local channel 11 news. Such achievements; he would boast to himself while seated in a comfortable chair slamming down a tasty beer.

Time came to dispose of unwanted trash. He had the pick-up already backed into the garage. He stepped out into the garage with a hefty load draped over his shoulder rapped in layers of typical trash bags then went to the truck tossing the trash into the truck bed. He slammed the truck gate closed and moved alongside the truck. Upon opening the driver's side door that damned feeling practically slapped in the back of his head; there were eyes somewhere spying on him. Had whatever he encountered in that old house somehow found him? After a week he had almost forgotten but now was well reminded. He climbed into the truck then drove out of the garage entering out into the subdivision. Being watched or spied on was a huge pet peeve of his. He drove out of Mirror Lake heading out onto Highway 78 taking the trash far away from his territory.

The trash was disposed of, somewhere off the side of some back road that branched out from 78. He returned back to his quiet neighborhood. During the drive that sense of being watched faded; perhaps his spy returned back to their run down dwelling near some old family cemetery. He pulled the truck into the garage then got out and hit the button; the garage door lowered. Upon entering the house he was again bitch slapped; his eyes frowned again sensing that mysterious something. His senses led through the house; things were out of order. It was if a curious child had entered his home and violated all his belongings tossing things around being nosy. There was an odd sense of the fairytale Goldie Locks and the Three Bears; he all three bears combined into one snazzy package. This apparent intruder helped themselves to his damned bathroom as well; the jetted garden tub still filled with dirty water which he touched, barely warm. He was seriously getting pissed the more things he discovered touched, moved, or rummaged through. He hated the sense of something else trespassing on his turf. There was an attempt to just let it slide but now that it invaded the privacy of his home; he wasn't having it. He moved back downstairs, through the kitchen and entered the laundry room where the basement access was located. Well, damn, the washer and drier had been used. He felt beyond having his privacy violated! Down into the basement he marched.

Each overhead light throughout the large basement flickered on. He stood at the basement steps peering down the long stretch of concrete with walls made of only framing. His eyes quickly spotted that the tool shelf was moved and exposed the hidden entrance. He knew damn well he put the shelf back. His boots stomped across the concrete with his eyes focused and blackening. No one pisses on another's turf! There's an unwritten rule that another will not attempt screwing with another's territory. He stepped through the entrance prepared to take out the mother fucker who was stupid enough to mess with him. With a flip of the switch the hallway lit up; he stood there before the stretch where doors lined the walls. His eyes scanned both sides trying to see if anything was out of place. Great; had this something come to scope out his food supply? He didn't want anything touching what was his. He moved to each door taking a peek through the tiny peepholes; most cells were empty with exception to two but there was a need to make certain nothing decided to play hide and seek inside any of them.

He reached the first occupied cell; his eyes peered inside. That particular meal was alright; had another day or so and it would reach its expiration date. He stepped further down to the second occupied cell; that too was fine, pretty much expired but would be placed with the others which is where he would check next. He continued down the hall reached the steel door that led into the death pit where the walls would eventually be filled with the buried and brewing creatures. His hand pressed against the steel and slowly pushed the door open. His senses picked up on that presence that was previously felt within that old house but it was stronger now that this intruder had obviously washed, including their clothing. With removal of any possible covering odors; he now knew he was dealing with an obvious vampire but it was different than him.

With the door open his eyes peered into the darkness of that dank brewing pit. He sniffed the air; it was definitely passed that doorway. There wasn't anywhere for it to go; where he stood was the only way out. "I know you're there," he spoke into the darkness, "I can smell you." His lips snarled exposing his fangs and again he sniffed while keenly listening. A faint sound caught his attention; the simple crumbling movement of the dirt within the darkness. He stepped forward onto a makeshift platform and knelt down with his eyes focused forward. His hand felt and found the extension cord then used touch to find the outlet and pushed the three-prong into it. The few strung lights quickly came on brightening the pit and a flash of speedy motion caught his eyes leading them to the only shadowed corner. He slowly rose up with his eyes glistening black and focused on that singular shadowed corner knowing that the intruder was there. "Okay, there's nowhere to run." He said with a slight grumble then stepped down into the dirt pit surrounded by foundation openings where within the dirt his collected subjects were placed to brew. "You've made a huge mistake coming into my home." He scolded with threat in his tone, "I don't care who or what you are; you've made a really bad decision trespassing." He aimed his clawed finger in direction of the shadowy corner, "Show yourself so I have a face to watch when I rip you apart!"

"You trespassed," a voice came from the shadowy corner following by a flash of those eyes, "Couldn't you read the signs posted?" The voice was soft, whispery with an almost angelic tone and obviously female.

Well, point taken but it was now his territory that was trespassed. "I don't really give a shit." He grumbled again taking steps forward, "Right now, you're the trespasser and I don't take that lightly. You helped yourself with my stuff."

"Well," the voice again spoke maintaining that soft angelic tone, "You shouldn't have done the same."

He huffed with annoyance; not wanting to make conversation just to get the death over and done with. "No more chit-chat!" he snapped, his fangs snarled, "Come out, now!" Finally he saw motion within that shadow followed by another flash of eyes reflecting the light within the room. "That's it," he lifted his hand and coiled his distorted index finger, "Come into the light." His eyes held their focus waiting the moment he would see the trespasser's face for what was determined to be the first and last. The first to be seen was a hand slide from the shadow moving against a portion of concrete foundation; the skin was the purest white with no evidence of veins beneath and from the dainty fingertips spread outward lengthy gray nails with prominent white tips. His eyes watched closely as the hand continued to slide bringing out from the shadow the attached arm which was just as white. The arm emerged further; at the elbow an aged and yellowed white lace sleeve. The rest of that creature slowly emerged with its back to him while pressing against the concrete wall. There was a bundle of twists and curls of pale golden hair with a dull sheen as it caught the light; he found his Goldie Locks for sure. It was definitely female by the figure that was draped over by antique lace; a dress aged and worn and seemingly from the nineteen twenties with portions of sheer yellowed lace hung from the calf length hem. And her bare feet dirty from the soil beneath them. This was altogether a whole other species he had only heard of, never seen.

He watched closely as she slowly turned while bringing a white hand before her eyes blocking the light. She then lifted the other hand, it too keeping the glare of the light from her eyes. Over the centuries there was mention of a specific breed of vampire that spent their lives hidden away from the living just to leave only to feed. They were recluses; lived in a type of self placed time warp keeping out of sight. They were considered the ghost breed for they were rarely ever seen which also explained why the old house was claimed to be haunted and, actually, in a way it was. They kept to what they knew from their mortal lives; surrounded themselves with memories of their past lives and loved ones. They avoided contact with anything outside their ghostly world; living or undead. Those were the reasons he had only heard about them but never seen one. The fabled descriptions of them were now obviously true; their skin the palest white imaginable, whiter than death and vacant of any indication of blood within their hollow veins. And there he stood looking at the rarest species known to vampires. Some had even considered they had gone extinct because of their reclusiveness and inability to adjust to the changes of passing centuries.

The endangered creature kept her hands before her face and eyes then lightly she parted her fingers peering through with eyes just as vacant of color as her skin. Without the accent of the pupils the eyes might have been thought completely white. The anger of being intruded on had faded a bit after witnessing for the first time in his four hundred years the rarity that was the Ghosts. There became a type of fascination with the intruder; he now was amongst the few to have seen such dramatic breed of vampire. There was almost a type of pity for such miserable creatures that would prefer a life secluded within the confines of a rotting corpse of a home while the world around them thrived and continued to blossom and change. Yet, for some reason, this one member of that ghostly breed had decided to come out of her reclusion but unfortunately it was his turf she trespassed. He had to move into a community that unknowingly harbored the endangered species and he had to be the damned one to come across its hiding place. What the hell drew her out? What the hell compelled her to seek out his home then make herself too damned comfortable? Was it because he kind of trespassed onto her turf that she felt fit to do the same to him? He didn't know for sure but damn it, he wasn't going to let her get away with it.

His eyes narrowed; the images of his belonging tossed about returned that anger. "Okay," he finally spoke up again, his tone filled with the anger's return, "Before I evict you permanently off these premises; what in hell made you think you were welcome to come into my home and touch anything? You bathed in my bathroom!" Yes, his bathroom! All of it was his! No one touches his shit!

"What made you think you were welcome," her voice flowed from behind the cover of her hands, "Welcome to dispose of your mess in my cellar, let alone my home?"

"Well, for one I had no damned idea that shithole belonged to anyone let alone one of you." He snapped back, "The point is, you screwed up coming here, Goldie Locks, because this Papa Bear is pretty damned pissed." He aimed his clawed finger at himself.

"Ruth," she spoke up, "…my name's Ruth."

"I don't care." He snapped again, "I don't need your name! I never asked your name! You're practically invisible to me!" He went to snap at her some more but her hands quickly moved uncovering her face. Apparently she didn't approve of being yelled at or perhaps it was the invisible comment which prompted her to reveal her face. Her oval shaped face wasn't as he expected; sure he expected more of that too white skin. Her skin was so white it seemed emulate its own radiant glow with not a hint of color to indicate details of her features. Her brows were so pale blonde they almost seemed not there. Her eyes were large, almost unnaturally large like that of a porcelain doll. Her lips prominently stood out amongst all that pure white skin; they were a bruised tone which brought out the shape with the top a heart shape with the bottom fuller and naturally pouting. She looked like a ghost or perhaps a morbid deathly version of an angel. His brows frowned, intensified the lines etched across his forehead. She was almost surreal to look at; he was pale most of the time, for a construction worker who apparently worked under the sun; yeah right. He watched those larger than life eyes slightly winch against the light; it was obvious her breed avoided most any light besides the deadly sunlight. He moved across the dirt, not towards her, but strangely towards the strung bulbs. Her eyes watched his every movement as he did her. He reached up to one of the heated bulbs and ignored the burn then twisted it until it went out. Why was he being nice all of a sudden? Not like him at all. Perhaps his fascination and curiosity about this rarity influenced him.

Her eyes softened upon the light being twisted out. He moved back twisting another light; it amazed him as it gradually got darker in the room her skin seemed to have absorbed some of that artificial light and practically glowed. Done showing some unnatural kindness; against his nature; he stepped towards her. "Okay, Ruth," he spoke up, "What if I let you go, let you leave here; will you return to your hidey-hole on the hill and never return? Hmm?" Since when did he make bargains; even with other immortals?

"Yes," she simply replied with that remarkably soft tone, whispery and gentle; so deceptive for their species, "Will you leave and never return?"

Oh, wait a second; he thought; was she actually suggesting he leave his digs? "Excuse me?" he crossed his arms and leaned a bit turning his head as if he hadn't heard her right, "Are you telling me that I have to leave?"

"Yes," she again gave another soft spoken but simple answer.

"And why should I?" he asked finding her suggestion almost humorous.

"This is my home." She stated with not a single note changed in her tone, "All of this is mine. Every victim you've claimed belonged to me. It wasn't only my house you trespassed but my entire home, my town."

Okay, he didn't at all enjoy being told to basically get the hell out of Dodge. "Now, you wait a…" he went to chew her a new one but she dared to lift her hand to silence him, "Oh, no, you don't!" He took a step forward as she simply folded her fingers with just the index erect.

"No," she said to him with her voice without change, "All these creatures you have sleeping in these walls," she shifted her hand palm up and gracefully gestured to the walls, "They weren't yours to make. You know nothing about what I am, do you?" she asked, "You just see another version of yourself but not as equal as you. Am I correct?" she spoke with her head slightly tilted and large eyes ever watchful without a single blink of those white lids.

"I know what you are." He was sort of getting tired of being talked over, "You're what they call a Ghost." He took another step forward not noticing her flinch once, "You hide in your decrepit holes and come out only to feed. You live caught up in self pity and loathing. So, by that, you sure in the hell aren't my equal. Besides, I'm positive I've been around a lot longer than you." He scanned her nineteen twenties fashion with a scowl of disgust, "Trapped in time forever and ever."

"No," she stated without a single lift in her tone, "Perhaps I've been here in this particular place for nearly a hundred years but," she took a step towards him, her bare feet pressed down into the loose dirt, "I am much older than you assume." Her lips barely moved with each of her softly spoken words, "Look closely at me, Jerry."

He frowned with surprise hearing her speak his name. He wasn't sure how to respond to any of what she was suggesting, including her knowledge of his name. She dared closer without a single show of fear of him. "How do you know my name?" he asked, it would bug the hell out of him if he didn't know. He watched her eerily tilt her head from one side to the other without once blinking her wide porcelain doll eyes. His eyes shifted and looked to her mouth and watched them closely as they moved with her words. "Yes, Jerry, we are called the Ghosts. But why is it truly we get that title?" his eyes watched those lips motion as softly as her voice, "Yes, we live our lives, not in hiding, but in reclusion because that is how we survive; have survived for more centuries than you've been around. Why is it you think we are so white? Hmm? Is it because we refuse any source of light? No," her head slowly moved side to side; his eyes shifted back up to hers, "No, we are what you see because we have lived for so long. At one moment, in the beginning we were like you but time passes and we draw ourselves inward instead of outward." He watched her step closer, "We have been undead for so long the color faded into white; including the shades of our eyes. Yes, once the color leaves, the light, bright light is bothersome and so we live in shadows of night and in darkness; it's less bothersome."

He was having hard time believing this crazy vampire. "So, you're telling me I will eventually become like you?" he aimed his finger at her then belted out an unbelieving laugh, "Oh, that's just rich."

"I don't expect something like you to accept what I say." She spoke so calmly and without any indication of frustration or anger, "You are vain and there is nothing wrong with that. We all are vain at one point. But, like everything else, the color fades then vanishes." Her foot moved forward bringing the tip of her toes before his boots, "Yet, there has been many like you who lived freely and enjoy the chaos and havoc," there came a slight smile of remembrance across her lips, "And many don't make it as far as I and others have; so many have willingly stepped into the light of day to end their colorless lives. A shame really. We are given a special gift and upon it not being as grand as it was in earlier years, so many just surrender and die." She leaned closer to him; her large eyes peered deep within his. "Maybe you, Jerry, might live as long as I have but perhaps being as vain as you are, you might find yourself dead; either by your own hand or another's." Her eyes seemed as if they could read his life within his dark eyes. They shifted mechanically around and back and forth, "Yes…" she leaned back, "Four hundred years is a long time but is it long enough or is it too long?" Her head tilted in question.

"How the hell do you know that?" he was getting a creepy vibe from this fortune telling ghostly creature. He watched one corner of her lips lightly lift in the first real sinister expression.

"When you've been around as long as I have," she started her reply with that voice really deceptive in its angelical melody, "You become open to more than just the typical heightened senses. What more is there but to evolve once you've practically done everything else?" She brought her other foot forward brushing the tips of her toes against the tip of his boots. Her eyes moved about his face, studying the colors that were still there; the colors that were now vacant in her. "You are quite a beautiful creature, Jerry." She commented, "It's been some time since I've seen another; one still vibrant with color. We don't typically socialize with others. The conversations would take hundreds of years to finish." She slightly laughed at her little quip.

He felt suddenly awkward with her practically in his face staring at him with those large eyes. He never got awkward; mister suave, calm, and cool. There was something in her way of speaking that possibly stated loud and clear that the truth was being said. Most of the stories of the Ghosts were assumptions because of their willingness to keep themselves hidden away. His train of thought was broken the moment he felt her lengthy nail tips graze his bottom lip and oddly lightly part his lips then she strangely sniffed. His eyes looked down at her deathly white but angelic face seeing hers focused on his mouth. "You fed." He listened to her state, "Awe, the joys of nightly feeding…" What was she actually saying? She answered his thought question, "You probably wonder since I've been here for so long why the population was still so abundant." She was dead on, "The hunger wanes; doesn't feel as strong any more. A real shame because there was so much pleasure in the games of pursuit and feeding. Can you imagine becoming bored with those games?" her eyes shifted from his mouth and to his eyes, "You probably can't, not right now for you still play like a child with an easily broken toy. Just break them and on to the next." She sounded almost fascinated; perhaps with her own memories, "And you play for days until they are good and broken."

Her manner of reading details about him was intriguing but oddly uneasy feeling. He wasn't used to being read like a historical open book. He slowly uncrossed his arms as her fascination seemed to grow with every childlike tilt of her head and none blinking motion of her studying eyes. Her white thin fingers and their white nail tips traced along the shapes of his face in the similar manner the blind visualizing another's face. "I apologize, Jerry," his name was practically sung with her angelic tone, "I meant no disrespect to your house. You're the first I've seen in over a hundred years and when I witnessed, at the cemetery, your skills of enjoyment in killing that young woman; it reminded me of earlier times." She continued her touching exploration of his features, "After you left I inspected that mess you left in my cellar and found it quite beautiful; I had forgotten the beauty of the color of blood." Her eyes again shifted back to his, "I also apologize for the bite. It was the first time I've done so in a long, long time. And I will say you tasted quite good; all those centuries of vibrant life I tasted in that single defensive bite." She slowly lowered her hands, the nail tips dragged down the sides of his nicely designed and masculine features.

And he thought he was morbid. Perhaps all her time being a recluse had unfortunately tangled up her wiring causing some serious misfires. He took a step back, not sure if he wanted her to again go touching him. "Okay," he nodded not sure how to respond to anything she creepily said, "I understand; if you are some kind of ancient relic of our kind then I guess I should respectfully accept that I overstepped my welcome." He wasn't typically one to bow out but there were plenty other places in the world to begin the construction of an army of vampires in which he would rule and rise to take over the mortal race. In the greater vampire society they respected another's turf and if one crosses that line that's typically when all out war happens. Every vampire is territorial. Though she appeared as fragile as her porcelain doll appearance; there was no telling what really hid beneath that porcelain shell; what abilities were hidden. "Again, I had no idea you were even here." He again found her right in front of his face, "Alright are we at an agreement?"

"Yes," she simply stated though she was obviously still fascinated with him, "But take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Now she was starting to really weird him out. "Don't worry," he spoke up though he was strangely getting a tad bit worried, "It won't take me long to get out of here." He took another step back from her; since when did he back away from anything? "I have some prospects out west." He stated which was true; always had a backup plan in case something goes bust, "All this will be cleaned up in no time."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" she easily sensed, "Please, forgive my forwardness." She stepped forward feeling the dirt crumble beneath her petite feet, "Perhaps…" her head tilted a bit further more awkwardly while her eyes held their focus on his attractive face, "…it's my appearance that makes you uncomfortable or perhaps the manner I enjoy looking at you."

"No, I'm fine." He sort of lied, "I can't blame you for wanting to look at me, now can I?" He watched her lips form a soft but broader smile.

"So vain," she sang, "But that's only natural." Her eyes, still without a single blink, scanned his masculine build. "Perhaps…" the angelical melody remained but was lightly tarnished with a more sinister note, "…if you would care to oblige me by allowing me…" her eyes slowly shifted to the entryway into that pit then shifted back to him, "…to partake in what is left of that one…" she lifted her arm and aimed her finger at the nearest cell door.

What; share his food? His eyes glanced to where she pointed then looked back to her. "Well," he wasn't too sure about sharing; always greedy but then again that particular cell was soon to be emptied by the next evening, "I suppose it would be okay; not much left."

"Oh, plenty for what I need it for." She stated broadening her lips into a grin.

The only thing that could possibly be of interest to him was watching another tear into flesh and blood. He always enjoyed when any of his past little critters went into starved animal mode and ruthlessly went crazy beast on any poor mortal. Yet, he didn't understand what she meant by what she needed it for. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the ring of keys. His brows lifted then he quietly moved towards the makeshift steps. As he moved up and into the hallway he could feel her weird eyes burning against his backside. He was getting an understanding of why those like her went the whole suicidal route; she pretty much seemed she was on the verge of going all vampire crack pot. He slipped the key into the lock and unlocked it with one quick turn. His eyes glanced to the right just as she stepped into the hallway. He turned the knob then opened the door; the almost expired item sat limply propped against one of the four walls of the small cell. He stood aside with his eyes following Ruth's silent entrance into the cell; he could easily slam the door and lock her inside but honestly that would be useless.

The twenty-something young woman weakly startled upon opening her eyes and discovering a whole other type of creature other than her captor. She managed to scoot herself back against the corner with her eyes hallowed and shadowed by days of being relentlessly fed upon. Ruth eyed the woman; it had been perhaps a year since the last time she tasted mortal living blood. It had been so long since the hunger could really be felt; something about the handsome devil and watching him ruthlessly bite the woman's tongue from her mouth then rip into her throat made her remember the thrill and pleasure of such actions. Having tasted his blood upon that defensive bite heightened those long forgotten urges. For so long alone within those walls of the abandoned house; the Proctor family having been wiped out by her and buried within their family cemetery plots; such a pleasant memory devouring the innocent lives of a prominent family who had become their own enemy. The memories of their horrified faces built up that long dormant excitement. Each one, one by one; father, mother, adult children, all drained of their life source. They were greedy with their wealth and kept to their residence which aided in the fact not a single outsider cared that they had vanished nearly a hundred years ago.

Awe, sweet memories; thanks to that merciless killer behind her. Her eyes rolled in response to the heightened sense of the waning blood managing to slowly pulse through the woman's trembling and weakened body. Her head rolled then leaned back and those bruised lips parted wide; the fangs, unused for nearly a year, sprouted into two sets at the top and bottom. Her jaw twisted and flexed as she felt the tip of her tongue against those almost forgotten tools of an immortal killer's trade. Her eyes snapped open into their wide dolly shape. Her head jerked side to side as it lowered aiming her eyes down at the terrified and dying woman. With a sudden burst to renewed energy she bolted forward giving the woman not a second to scream. Behind her, standing the open doorway the trigger for her renewed energy stood back watching.

Jerry quickly moved from the doorway; the lifeless woman was viciously thrown from the cell striking the adjacent door then dropped to the floor awkwardly twisted and broken. Well, that was the height of his evening. From the cell he heard a high pitched screech of pure energized excitement. He again stepped into the doorway to see what she had meant by what was needed. Before his eyes he watched exactly what that woman's minimal blood helped Ruth regain. That whiter than death porcelain flesh became shattered by cracks of blue; the veins again feeling the rush of blood. A familiar madness gave new life to the look of her large eyes. Had she gone that long without feeding that every part of her body became void of blood? He knew he couldn't survive like she had. If moving beyond centuries meant you became bored with your way of life, forgetting the thrills of the kill, and becoming a shell of your former glory; he definitely understood desiring death instead. Her body jerked and twisted with surge of minimal blood rejuvenating her stale cells. Her mouth, stained with the woman's blood, held that all too familiar expression of pleasure. He was now growing truly intrigued; it was something he never witnessed before. Perhaps he could be a bit more obliging and see what happens when she gets her fangs into another who is more vital with blood than the other.

He smirked; lifted his hand and coiled his finger urging her from the cell. He watched her head stiffly tilt with question. He simply nodded and stepped back then moved to the other occupied cell. He had plenty to spare; so many other meals to collect. He unlocked the door and swung it open just as she finally made her way back into the hallway. The physical changes about her were being more and more prominent. With just a gesture of his hand he offered her access to the young man he had planned to add to the collective which wasn't necessary now that he would soon leave there. She again tilted her head questioning him. "Be my guest." He urged and watched her eyes shift looking into the cell. With a tensed jerk of her head she swiftly darted into the cell. Eager to watch, he stepped forward and faced the cell. A scream of agony belted from the young man as he was slammed against the wall then jerked forward and brought hard to the cell floor. In less than a second she was on him with all that dormant hunger ripping into the side of his neck with such force blood spurted across the near white wall. It was amazing to witness; she was definitely a violent force to reckon with.

Her screeches and growls echoed against the cell walls as the young man convulsed beneath her; legs and arms jerkily twitching as his life was swiftly sucked from his body. And just as the woman's blood had done, her body was revived and physically displayed it. The dull tone of her hair was spread over with vibrant rich golden tones throughout each smooth twist and curl. The young man went deathly limp; her head bolted upward and large eyes darted toward the kind host. Within those colorless eyes, the blackness of the pupils swarmed outward swallowing the white. Now she had the eyes of a true vampire; a vampire again with life and color. The bluish tint cracked throughout her white flesh pulsated, the veins filled with blood and life. Her mouth was glossy with the thick and rich blood painted over them and covering her chin. She rose effortlessly onto her bare feet which too had regained the long faded etchings of color.

He again stepped back as another lifeless corpse was thrown mercilessly from that cell. The body struck hard sounding broken bones and thudded to the floor. He quickly looked back inside just as she smeared her fingers across her bloodied lips; nails now darkened into the signature claws of a vampire's. She moved before Jerry and looked up at him with no longer colorless eyes but filled with that glossy blackness. To his lips she brought her bloodied fingertip then painted the young man's blood over the shape of his mouth.

"Are you still uncomfortable?" she asked reading his eyes; her voice still that deceptive angelic tone.

"Oh, I'm a lot more comfortable now." He stated then tasted the blood from his lips. Now she looked the part; became obvious what he was looking at right now was the reasons she asked him to oblige her. Perhaps he might develop a thing for older women. Oh, physically she was probably younger than him but immortally she was plenty older; he believed that now.

She gave a soft laugh, "I'm approximately eight hundred and twenty-nine; give or take a day or two."

Okay, she could read his thoughts. Maybe she could read some other thoughts that were beginning to brew inside his morbid but genius brain. She lifted slightly up on her tiptoes bringing her blood glistening lips near his. His brows lifted curiously. "Well, it's been," he felt her lips lightly motion as they grazed against his, "A very, very long time." Oh, she was reading those other thoughts loud and clear; first time he enjoyed the idea of having someone else get into his head. He watched closely as her eyes shifted a bit in response to her thoughts then they returned looking into his. "I believe," her lips practically pressed against his, "It's been maybe a hundred and," she again paused trying to grasp a timeline, "Yes, a hundred and thirteen years; give or take." Now that was a long time; he thought; longer than he could imagine for him. "But," he felt her lick the tip of her tongue across her lips, "How do they say; it's like riding a bike."

Well, he never would have thought that evening would go in such a direction. First he was beyond pissed off that his house was invaded then informed he had to vacate the area which made him even more pissed. Now, he found himself being seduced by the intruding Goldie Locks and his own thoughts were spoken by her angelical voice passed her blood slicked lips. Four hundred years and life still had a way to surprise him. "Doesn't it," she again spoke; not a single thought of his seemed to be safe. Her having fed seemed to have heightened that tricky ability of hers. Damn, why hadn't he developed such a useful ability? "How do you think I feel," she sang so heavenly, "For nearly a hundred years I've lingered around here and then recently something pleasantly unexpected happened," She again developed a fascination with his mouth using that newly blackened claw tip parting his lips studying his recently grown fangs, "You practically showed up on my front lawn splattering it with blood. If it weren't for the likes of you I might have completely forgotten how lovely blood smelled." Speaking she developed a sultriness mingling with that deceptively innocent angelical melody. It was becoming the strangest conversation he has ever had; he thought it, she'd answer verbally. "Okay," she again sang, "I'll stop." And she did with a blink of her blackened eyes, "But you'll have to learn to speak up or take action."

"Fine by me," he commented with those intriguing thoughts developing more. She lowered flat on her bare feet and took a step back. His eyes wandered; took a moment to check her out to get an idea what he would soon discover. There was prominent evidence that beneath the layers of yellowed lace was a figure made of womanly curves. His eyes lifted back up to her face and watched her again smear her fingertips across the slightly drying blood stained over her lips. Closely his eyes focused on her naturally pouting lips as one by one she sucked those bloody fingertips clean. He could only image what it was like to feed for the first time in a year; what a rush she must have felt; almost like a born again virgin experiencing the sexual act after a long trial of celibacy. Oh, he now had a pretty good idea her response would be to something entirely different but similarly pleasurable after having not done so in a hundred and thirteen long, long years. "Tell me," he spoke up, "How was it after not tasting blood for a year?" He was really curious to how she would describe such an experience.

She stepped near the wall to her left and slid her fingers through the slick of splattered blood then again brought them to her lips. With the flat of her tongue began to lick up the length of her fingers; obviously haven't fed in all that time she had no desire to waste one drop. She rubbed her lips together, "Do you remember your first time?" she asked and watched him slightly nod, "Close to that. But nothing really compares to the first time does it." She stepped backwards continuing licking up each finger followed by a soft hum; enjoyed the flavors she hadn't indulged in such a long time. "Amazing what you forget," she explained then slid her pinky into her mouth and sucked it clean, "My advice to you, Jerry, is always treat each one like the first because there will come a time every flavor from each one begins to blend together and becomes tasteless. Perhaps..." she paused leaning back against white wall enjoying all those long forgotten sensations from feeding delivered throughout the body, "That's why I wait so damned long between feedings; so that when I do, I remember how sweet and precious a treat their blood is." Her eyes lightly fluttered as the flavor practically tingled over her tongue. Her head softly moved from side to side as if the flow of blood creating a rhythmic in melody in her mind. Her mind trailed back through her history; all those centuries she had taken advantage of those plentiful pleasures which now seemed as rare as she.

He sure found himself caught up in her words and actions. Surpassing him in centuries she still seemed new to it all; denying herself those pleasures he enjoyed each and every evening gave her an almost rebirth. He was definitely drawn to her; it had been a long while for him having associated with another and she happened to become the first in that long while. He wasn't disappointed; literally having witnessed an instant transformation before his curious eyes. Being intrigued as he was he brought boot over boot moving towards her as she remained pressed back against the wall in a type of euphoria. His eyes wouldn't alleviate from their study of her responses. Her hands were no longer that whiter than death coloration; etched with those blood filled veins; and she touched her face with those slightly blood stained fingers. She was certainly fascinated; couldn't keep her hands off herself which he had no problem watching. Things then got even more interesting; her hands began to tug against the fragile lace dress exposing her shoulders which she quickly caressed.

"It almost burns," she stated with an intoxicated sigh, "As if along with their blood came the heat." Her hands slid down the aged lace of the dress then the length of her blackened claws snagged the delicate yellowed lace and began gathering the skirting up. Her lips, lacking that once bruised tone but highlighted by the dried blood, formed into an intoxicated and pleasured smile. "It almost feels," she commented with a soft giggle, "Like there's a fever all over my body." Her head leaned back against the wall as the dress was gathered higher exposing her now more colorful thighs; the blue intensely cracked throughout the length of her legs to her bare feet. Her eyes grew wide into their large doll-like shape and focused on him. She took one step forward from the wall as her hands gripped the gathered hem of her dress. Her head titled with an almost innocent manner while her hands not so innocently lifted the hem higher. "Tell me, Jerry," she spoke with that unique combination of angelic and lust stepping before him, "Do you feel the heat?" One hand released the dress and quickly grabbed his hand then delivered it beneath the slanted raise of the hem and between her thighs. Releasing his hand she brought hers to the side of his perfectly carved face then leaned bringing her lips before his. "Do you feel the heat, Jerry?" she repeated as her lips brushed against his.

Oh, he was feeling something alright! Perhaps it wasn't the heat that his meals typically radiated; hers was the heat of a vampire bitch in heat. His lips formed into his always suggestive grin then he simply replied, "Yes." then felt her lips curve into a similar grin. Always one to get down to business; he took initiative crushing his lips hungrily against hers immediately tasting the blood staining her lips and flavoring her tongue.

Quickly it twisted into an instantaneous slaughter of an entirely different style and meaning. Two wild and untamed creatures of the same nature colliding in a ritual that was rare between their kinds. Centuries aged vampires kept their distance from one another but when a moment arises and a whole other animalistic hunger is reached a collision is impossible to avoid. Claws lashing, fangs penetrating, and bodies violently collide. Sounds of an unnatural nature are made; screeches, drawn out hisses, growls, and other beastly sounds mingle with distorted human vocals. Walls crack as the pleasurable violence escalates. Blood exchanged through agonizing but pleasingly made wounds. The floor splattered and smeared with blood as bodies twist and roll violently painting the floor. Entwined bodies viciously thwart themselves slamming unnaturally upward against the ceiling. And the finale of such passionate brutality ends as it began; two bodies falling from the ceiling to the floor below in a ferocious combination of screams of exploded satisfaction and roars of an ended slaughter of morbid passions.

Jerry Dandridge moved on after that really weird but damned unexpectedly interesting evening after coming across one of the legendary Ghosts. He learned a thing or two about this endangered species; they weren't a separate species of vampire at all and quite possibly like seeing into the future. He did as he said; packed up and cleared out and took care of his mess. Most likely, the mysterious Ruth would return to her reclusive existence to again not feed for another year which meant she would return to the appearance of a ghostly porcelain doll. Yet, there was one ability Jerry had no idea that odd creature had; when looking into his eyes, having been evolved as she was, she saw into his future and knew that in less than a year he would be no more. Ruth said nothing because, a creature like Jerry Dandridge, he being so vain would never survive when his time came to be a Ghost. She thought it best to leave him in the dark about his fate; no vampire screws with another's destiny and his just happened to be a more permanent death.

As for those who assist in that devilish vampire's destiny; she had seen all their faces within the blackness of Jerry Dandridge's eyes, his future. She saw teenagers Charley Brewster and Amy Peterson and the great performer Peter Vincent of Las Vegas fame. Their fates had only begun for Ruth foresaw the coming of another upon the moment Jerry Dandridge's essence fades into oblivion. His death summons forth a creature that surpasses anything Jerry Dandridge was or might have been. Ruth witnessed Jerry's past, present and future from that moment she had bitten him out of defense; a reason she stepped out from her reclusion for she wanted to witness more. And in his blackened eyes she saw everything in violent flashes throughout her evolved mind. From his beginnings to his end, where everything is linked together and draws forward something not even she would dare cross. She returns to hide away from the world and maintains her ghostly existence and the secrets revealed to her from Jerry's eyes and blood. She pitied the mortals who had no clue what was about to erupt on them, again.

_(Author)_

_So, did I do better? Huh? Huh? _

_Oh, that's right, Bitches! I did a prequel now I'm gonna do the sequel the way it was meant to be done! As in the first, the remake, it took bits and pieces and literally made a whole other Fright Night that happened to have the same name as the original and character names! So, you're gonna have to hold your damned breaths and wait for it! _

_MUAH-HA-HA-AH!_


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