There is a house on my street that everyone ignores. The garden is overgrown, the once bright paint is long faded, there's broken windows all over. It's in ruins. I have asked my mum about it before, but she said not to worry about it, it used to be owned by the Masons. They emigrated to Europe when my mum was a teenager and no one has lived there since. I walked home from Jern's at dusk today and I thought there was someone standing in the window, in the dark. Maybe new people are moving in. And that... that would be a problem. "I think there's new people moving into the Mason's house," I say. Mum tsks, shaking her head. "Don't speak with your mouth full," my father tells me, "Who on Earth would want to live there? Must have been a bargain, the state that house is in." He swallows the last of his meal, wipes his chin and stands up. "You want a ride to school tomorrow?" "No, I'm biking with Jern." "Good. Great! Have fun kid." He's off to watch television in the living room before he finishes his sentence. Frankly, I wonder sometimes if he ever expects me to agree to the ride. Tonight though, I have other things to worry about, and other plans. It's past ten when I hear my parents head upstairs, to bed. The thin bar of light falling into my room from underneath the door winks out and the house falls into its nighttime rhythm of snoring parents and a washing machine running in the basement. I get up from my bed, still fully dressed, grab my backpack and open my bedroom window. Silent as a ghost, I slide through onto the porch roof, down the drainpipe and out of the garden. I glance up and down the street. No one's out, good. No nosy neighbours to bother me, or worse, rouse my parents. A streetlight flickers in the distance and I shiver in the cool night air. I should have brought my jacket. It's just a short walk to the old Mason's home, but I take my time, making sure I am not seen scooting into the garden through a gap in the hedge. Once I'm in the garden, I stand still for a moment, taking in the house from the shadows. It's been a while since I have been here at night, although nothing seems different much compared to my usual visits before school. The smell of the garden is always the same: musty and earth-like. I know that the inside of the house is not much different, except for the smell of iron in the attic. There's no lights on in the house, no sound inside, no car on the kerbside. Maybe the new people left for the night, or maybe they are sleeping. Only one way to find out, I guess. I walk around the left side of the house, keeping to the shadows cast be the streetlight just outside of the garden. With a large step, I avoid the overgrown tricycle stuck near the back porch and gently put my foot on the stairs. A slight creak escapes as I put my weight on the second step and I freeze, ready to bolt if there's anyone inside. Nothing. Yet somehow I feel seen. Swallowing, I muster all the courage I have and walk the rest of the way to the backdoor, avoiding any loose boards that I know of. The key is where I left it, on a shallow ledge just above the door frame. Clouds cover the moon as I fumble around in the dark, trying to fit the key into the rusty lock. A chilly breeze rustles some of the leaves in the unkempt garden. I glance over my shoulder and stiffen when I see a tall man standing in the garden, face strangely familiar. With a jolt, I come to my senses, turn the key and step inside the house. I close the door and lock it, and when I look outside, is seems as if the man was never there. The only movement I see is shrubs slowly waving their branches in the autumn wind. I must be imagining things. The house is deadly silent. "Lucy," I whisper, "are you there?" Nothing. Making my way across the kitchen, I notice nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that looks out of place, or new. I feel almost relieved, but cannot shake the feeling of seeing someone in the garden that was not there. I hope this whole expedition is for nothing, that I just thought I saw things, but I *have* to make sure Lucy's alright. The clouds disappear and the moon shines a pale light through the kitchen windows. My shadow stretches before me as I walk towards the living room. I pause for a second, something's off. My shadow... there's more than one! I spin around and see him, the same man I saw in the garden! Just behind me, in the kitchen. I try to scream, but no sound comes out of my mouth as his hand extends and grabs me by the throat. "I see we have a visitor..." I try to peel off the man's hands, struggling for breath, but he has a grip like iron. The only thing on my mind is escape, my vision blurs from the tears in my eyes. The man's face comes closer, he opens his mouth and two razor-sharp fangs swim in and out of focus. Fangs. Wait... With a mighty effort, I claw at the man's hands and I manage to suck in one last breath. "Lucy!" There is something weird about being on the brink of death. Everything seems to happen at once and it is hard to separate important details from the rush of thoughts and impressions that fight to be the final thought, the final feeling, the final sensation before you die. The man wears a worn cotton vest, frayed at the edges and a dark shade of red. I remember where I put the wallet with the two silver coins from the 1960s that I lost two years ago. A slight wind starts to blow in the house. My mum's favourite flower is the tulip and my dad goes out of his way to get her a bouquet for their wedding day. The grip of the man loosens, a puzzled look on his face. My first grade teacher was called Sophia and she had auburn hair. "Jack! Let him go." a familiar voice. Lucy? I drop to the floor, gasping, rubbing my throat as I gulp in big breathes of dusty air. There's no wind blowing anymore. "Lucy?" I say. "You were not supposed to mingle, Lucy," the man says, "it's dangerous." "We're not living in the 1850s anymore, Jack." Lucy kneels next to me. "This is a friend. My best friend." I realise why the man's face seemed familiar. He looks a lot like Lucy. Older, but there's a lot of similarity. "Who's this?" I ask. "Meet my brother, Jack. He's been away for many years, but he arrived back home two nights ago. My parents are coming too in a few weeks." "But...I thought your parents went to Europe, never to return." Jack laughs. "Never is a long time." "I have been feeding daily thanks to this one." Lucy smiles at me, fangs shining white in the dark room. "It is time mum and dad met the new member of our family." The last thing I see is Lucy and Jack closing in on me.