Eternal Night

By The Ultimate Cliché

Chapter Two: The Hunt Gets Interrupted

John had finished cleaning up the ashes of the Vampire Larnack when he looked over to the door of the barn and noticed it slowly being opened. He thought fast and dashed to the side of the barn and hid under the stairs. A farmer walked inside and looked around, nothing seemed out of ordinary so he left after looking for only a few minutes. John breathed a long sigh of relief and slowly slid out from under the stairs, scanning the barn as he went. He noticed nothing as he got into a crouch and stood up fully up, again scanning. He would rather not have an angry farmer yelling at him, only to have to admit to hunting and killing a Vampire in his barn.

That would be one strange conversation…

It was when John was just getting ready to leave that the farmer walked in and John pulled a gun on him. Clearly the Farmer had never been held at gunpoint, because he dropped the pitchfork he had in his hands and threw himself to the floor, yelling, “Please, take what you want and leave me be!” John simply shook his head and holstered the weapon. He walked over to the man and helped him up.

“Sorry about that,” John said, feeling embarrassed. Now he might have to have that conversation he had dreaded.

The man looked John up and down then, after he had about memorized his face, just in case, said: “Uhh, who are you?” John laughed.

“My name is John Doe, if I told you why I was here, you wouldn’t believe me.” He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, this could be bad, this man had caught him trespassing, and then he had the fact that he had had a gun pulled on him. If this guy decided to press charges, then John would be gone, off to prison for one hell of a long time.

“How about you tell me anyway,” The man said cheerily. John didn’t enjoy that tone, if he wasn’t careful, then this guy would turn him in without a moment’s notice.

“Well, I… I was killing a Vampire.” John said flatly. The Farmer stared into his eyes for a long time, then burst into laughter. “Ha! That was a good one, now just admit that you were trying to rob me and say you’ll never do it again, and I won’t call the police.”

John would rather not lie, but would even more rather not be arrested, so he said: “Yes, I’m sorry. I swear that I will never try to steal from your stores, I won’t do it again.” The farmer smiled, “Well Mister Doe - if that is your real name – my name is Jonas Wilson, nice to meet you. Now get-” He was cut off by a scream that was so loud it shattered the main support beam of the barn, sending part of the roof toppling in.

John’s hearing was nearly shut down; the only sound he could hear was his own breathing and a few anomalistic sounds that somehow passed through and into his mind. He moved over to Jonas and screamed, “SHUT YOUR EYES!” Jonas listened and closed his eyes, allowing John to shove him under the stairs.

John needed a weapon. His Stakeshooter was not enough to take out a banshee, which was what the screamer was. He wasn’t a good enough shot to break her comb, and he didn’t have much ammo. His VP70 had seventeen rounds left, but he still wasn’t good enough to hit something that small. He had dropped his stake somewhere at the first scream, so he searched the barn for something to help him. That was when he spotted the pitchfork that Jonas had come in with.

John grabbed the Pitchfork and held it aloft. The Banshee launched out of its hiding place in the shadows and grabbed John around the throat. It wailed again and John snapped his eyes shut, if he saw its face then he would die in twenty-four hours, he hoped that Jonas knew that. John swung the pitchfork so hard that the Banshee’s ectoplasm was sliced in half and then quickly reformed. It was temporarily hurt and flew over to Jonas, wailing in his face, and clawing at his body. It was trying to make Jonas open his eyes, and if he did, he would later die.

It is common knowledge that it is impossible to kill a Banshee. It is possible to bind, seal, or wound a Banshee. You can bind it inside a blessed box or vase, seal it within a host, be they willing or forced, and you can wound it with salt or holy weapons. He doubted that Jonas had any holy weapons or blessed container, much less any hosts to seal the spirit within, but salt would be found in the kitchen of the house.

“Hey, you bitch!” The Banshee looked over at John and realized that he had stolen the things comb. It wailed again and ran at him; John ran out the door and bolted towards the nearby house. He caved in the door by ramming his shoulder into it and kept going. His eyes widened and turned a bright white and he found the kitchen threw the walls, he hated going into what he called “Doe Mode”, since he had no idea what caused it, but it happened sometimes.

You see, John had never had control of his Doe Mode. It simply happened whenever he needed it, like when his life was in danger. He ran through the house, always knowing where to go, never missing something, until her reached the small, but fully stocked, kitchen. He opened one of the cupboards and pulled out a huge tub of salt. Jonas had stocked his kitchen well, this tub would last a year in a normal situation. It would last perhaps ten minutes in this situation.

John took this tub and ran back to the barn, the Doe Mode beginning to ebb when he reached it. He tossed salt on the door way and was running to the other when the Banshee burst in. It wailed as John threw his hands over his eyes. Jonas looked up when John screamed and his eyes locked with the Banshee’s twisted, deformed eyes. John looked at Jonas, and only him as he was lifted into the air by the Banshee’s gaze. Jonas was shaking violently and John could only imagine what he was seeing in the Banshee’s eyes.

It was a horrible thing, seeing a Banshee’s eyes. It is written that the person sees images of hell and chaos and torture and blood, and it nearly kills them. The victim is supposed to survive that, but then have nightmares for hours that are even worse, only to die in some gruesome way twenty-four hours after seeing the eyes.

“Oh shit!” John screamed.