Peter Mason was an extremely light sleeper and living alone in a large decaying house combined with severe paranoia did not help. His house was old, unkempt and in serious need of refurbishment and after years of living alone he had convinced himself that on some nights he could hear the dead.
During the winter the wind caused the doors to bang and creak and sometimes when it blew through the cracks in the walls it sounded like dead children screaming and howling.
He soon realised that it was dead children screaming as Peter was sensitive to the 'other side'. He slowly became aware after his wife left him and he lost his bakery. He began to notice that objects disappeared, not in front of his eyes and he would eventually find them but they were never where he had left them. Doors and windows would open and slam on their own, taps would turn themselves on and once his bathroom even flooded even though he had not showered in days.
Lately his house was now always cold and he always felt chilly no matter how many fires he lit or how many of layers of clothing he wore.
As time passed his supernatural experiences increased, he would see something or someone move out of the corner of his eye, occasionally at first but now he thought he saw something, someone on a daily basis. He would often smell bubble gum or hear dozens of footsteps running through the hall way and lately something or someone trying to hold his hand.
On the morning of his death he heard children crying and he was almost sure he heard someone say his name along with a warning. He heard them whisper "the demon is coming don't let him in."
Wails and creaks often woke him, the feeling someone was in his room watching him or someone was sitting on his bed. The sound, though, that woke him tonight was different and it was the sound of breaking glass. His eyes shot open as he heard it, he sat bolt upright when the windows hinges creaked as it was forced open and he stood up to grab the cricket bat he kept by his bed as he heard the shattered glass begin to crunch.
The glass was crunching because someone was walking on it, someone was inside his house.
He was greeted by darkness as he opened his bedroom door not even the full moon, hidden by dark clouds could shed any light. He stepped into the hallway and held the bat high into the air.
"Who's there?"
Only silence answered him.
However he knew in his gut that someone was there.
"I don't have anything worth stealing so you'd better scarper before I call the police."
"Actually you have two things I really need," a voice from within the darkness said.
Peter patted his hand along the wall desperately trying to find the light switch.
"Let me help," the voice said and immediately a dim light lifted the darkness and left Peter looking at a dark silhouette standing at the end of hallway.
"Get out," Peter shouted brandishing the bat at the unwanted intruder.
"I need a roof over my head and something to eat."
"Find it elsewhere, get out of my house."
"Last chance," the intruder replied.
Peter shook his head, "out I told you."
Peter screamed as the intruder walked forward into the light.
"You are the demon," he whimpered as he surveyed the intruder's black eyes, his transparent skin and as he walked further forward towards Peter he grinned, an evil grin much wider than seemed possible and his evil smile exposed four sharp pointy teeth.
"No not exactly, although I have been referred to one many times; mainly by my ex-wife." Winston laughed.
Peter held the bat vertically in front of him placing his forearm across it forming a makeshift cross and then he began to pray which made Winston howl with laughter as he continued walking forwards. He grabbed the bat from Peter and threw it down the stairs.
"Praying does not work you know. He won't come to help you and anyway it's too late for you now. I am just going to take what I need from you."
Peter did not even have the time to scream again even if he had tried, Winston was so hungry he tore into his throat, ripped out his wind pipe and gulped down the blood which poured out of the large open wound. Winston was breathless as he pulled away, he could sense Peter was close to death. His dying eyes seemed to plead with him but Winston just sneered and then smiled, "bye Peter," he whispered and then he threw him down the stairs.
He watched with glee as Peter tumbled downwards, his old body twisting and turning as he fell and Winston sucked in a breath as the body hit the bottom and a loud snap rang in the air. He jumped down the stairs two at a time and then over Peter's dead body.
"I hope that hurt," he said out loud to himself as he picked up the telephone to call Lee.
Peter knew he was dead the moment he stood up from his fall and looked down at his body laying disjointed at the bottom of the stairs. Blood was still flowing from the wound in his throat and his neck and legs were at odd angles.
Peter smiled he was now free, free from this misery of existence called life. Free, of having to force himself to stand up every day and pretend he was living. He took a deep breath, even though he did not have to anymore, and he waited to ascend.
Minutes passed and still he waited, standing right next to his body fearing that if he left it before they came for him he would become lost. He had no idea how long he stood there, waiting, before it dawned on him.
Death was not what Peter, as a practicing Catholic, expected. He was not greeted by a bright white light, there were no loved ones waiting to guide him through to the other side or any guardian angels and thankfully no-one came from below either.
In fact there was nothing, nothing happened at all. His surroundings all looked the same. He walked over to where his murderer was sitting and waved his hand in his face.
The demon did not react at all.
"You can't see me can you?"
The demon was talking into the telephone barking orders at whoever was on the other end of the line.
Peter became angry.
He tried to push the demon out of the chair. This was when he learnt his body was not solid anymore and he fell right through the demon, the chair and the floor and landed with a bump into the foundations of his house.
As he stood up he heard giggling and he realised his feet were still standing on the foundations but his body was poking through the floor and he could see the demon still talking on the phone.
This is when Peter learnt that ghosts, spirits, whatever he should call himself now, could actually walk through objects and they could still be frightened. If he could have he would have jumped out of his own skin when a little face appeared in front of him and yelled boo.
Giggles echoed around the room as Peter screamed.
The demon did not seem to hear any of them.
"We've been waiting for you. We told you not to let the demon in but you are here with us now. So let's start."
"Start?" Peter enquired.
"Yes," the little face said as he pointed at Winston, "he is planning to take another. We have to stop him this time and you must help us."
"Help you to do what?"
"To warn her, you must help us warn her."
Another young face appeared and she held out her hands towards Peter, "Come," she said, "you will get used to it. It just takes a little time."
With help Peter managed to pull his body upwards until he was again standing on the floor of his house. The children surrounded him and he felt uneasy as he glanced at their pleading faces. They ranged in age from around five years old to maybe twelve or thirteen.
"You will help us won't you?" They chimed in unison.
The demon jumped up as the doorbell rang and Peter and the children watched as a teenaged boy and girl entered the house.
"This is Paula," Lee informed him, "just as you ordered."
Winston rubbed his hands together as he eyed the girl, he was hungry and she was just his type, shorter than him with long brown hair and honey coloured eyes. "You took your time its days since I have fed Lee."
Lee smiled nervously, "yes well the 'company' are still looking for you after the last stunt you pulled and if you want to stay alive you need to lay low and I need to stay low too because they are watching me too."
Winston smiled as he reminisced. He fucking loved Halloween. He walked the streets of Hackney in his full vampire form and no-one had battered an eye lid. He received high fives from passers-by, been told his makeup was 'the bomb', an expression he had not heard before and even been asked to pose for several pictures.
One girl, he never even asked her name, invited him to vampire appreciation party. She told him 'There are people here I met online that actually drink human blood.' Then she informed him 'that's the coolest vampire makeup I've ever seen even your teeth look real.'
"They are," he had replied and then they had both laughed and walked arm in arm to the party.
People applauded him as he walked in, shouting how fantastic he looked, they cheered and clapped as he sunk his teeth into the girls neck and whooped as she fell to the floor assuming she was playing dead.
But she wasn't.
"Bite me," a man shouted as he lurched forward.
The cheering only stopped when the man's wife began screaming when she saw his throat was now missing. This was when Winston's real fun started. People were panicking, screaming and running everywhere allowing him to take his pick, fed from victims quickly in succession; one after the other, one after the other.
It was mayhem and he loved mayhem.
Lee clicked his fingers to grab back his attention.
Winston pulled the girl into his arms and then led her upstairs so Lee stormed into the living room and emptied the contents of his bag onto the table. He was jealous; he wanted to be the sole focus of the vampire's attention.
Peter look bewildered, "days," he whispered, "but I have only just died."
The children giggled, "time is different here, sometimes quicker and sometimes slower."
Peter looked back at his body, the skin was now purple. The eyes had sunken back into the skull, the lips were dry and shrivelled and he looked like he had been dead for weeks not minutes. He watched the demon and his human companion looking at photos they had strewn everywhere and while the human talked the demon listened intently.
Peter again became angry as he listened to their plans. Just who did this demon, this vampire think that he was.
"Yes I will help you," Peter exclaimed, "I will help you send this demon right down into Hell."