Boy in the Mist (Vampire BoyxBoy)

The cab rumbled through the night, its headlights cutting through a dense, inky fog that clung to everything. Isaac pressed his face against the window, trying to peer into the oppressive darkness, but saw little beyond the blurry outlines of ancient trees and what looked like small, scattered cemeteries.

This was it. His new home. A remote, gothic town in northern Ireland, where the clouds hung low and heavy even at almost midnight. The air grew colder, and the faint glow of streetlights became rarer, swallowed by the encroaching gloom. He was finally here, in a place utterly unlike the familiar comfort of New Jersey.

“Here we are.” The driver’s gruff voice startled Isaac from his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. He fumbled for his wallet, paid the surprisingly cheap fare, and quickly pulled his two meager suitcases from the trunk. The cab sped away, leaving him alone on the curb, the engine's drone fading into the unsettling quiet.

He stood before the house, a normal-looking structure by day, but now overshadowed by the looming, gated graveyard directly behind it. A shiver ran down his spine. The cold was immediate, and a sense of unease settled deep in his gut. Inside, the house offered a brief respite, a welcoming warmth that eased his nerves. He dropped his bags, turned on a lamp, and collapsed onto the bed, inhaling the scent of fabric and dust.

But as he settled, the comfortable silence began to feel less like peace and more like a void. A prickling sensation crawled across his skin, a faint, undeniable feeling of being watched. He sat up, pulled the blinds shut, and finally, exhaustion claimed him, pulling him into a fitful sleep.