NATHANIEL
It was the year 1899 the date was the 29th of October and I was 28 years old, my name is George Edward Greene and this is my story.
I found myself in the old fishing port of Whitby which is situated on the North Eastern coast of England, I had come from my native West Yorkshire home in Huddersfield to start out on a new adventure in life in a new Town and I could not think of anywhere better to be, I had come in search of Whitby Jet which had become part of the mourning attire for Queen Victoria after the sudden death of her husband Prince Albert in 1861.There was money to made from Whitby Jet and also from the many fossils that were to be found along the coast between Whitby and Ravenscar, there was one particular night which was very dark and stormy, the wind was blowing at gale force as it came across the North Sea, There were ships within the harbour walls which were being tossed and blown around like pieces of cork however they did have much more protection than those who were out at sea having to sail through mountainous waves which came ashore crashing and thundering into the harbour entrance between the twin piers, both lighthouses shone their message of warning to the ships of their impending doom on the rocks as they were tossed and blown towards the shore.
The wind was driving fiercely over the harbour walls and was causing the sand to move in a most unusual way causing a serpentine pattern to undulate and arch as it moved across the beach.
I was staying in an old fisherman’s cottage on Henrietta Street which was known locally as pier cottage, the cottage always looked as though it were shrouded in an eerie smoke which comes from Fortunes kipper smoking house just has it must have had since William Fortune started the smoke house in 1872, sometimes the smoke that gathers around the old street light has the appearance of some ethereal spirit dancing in the night air.
There was a window in the cottage which led out on to a balcony overlooking Tate hill sands the place where in Bram Stokers book written in 1897 about count Dracula the ship the Demeter had run aground during a violent storm not unlike the storm which was raging that night, Waves were crashing like thunder into the breakwater and great plumes of spray were sent high into the night air, the wind was howling making a very eerie sound as it seemed to have a ghostly noise as it passed through the red pan tiled roof tops.
Although I felt very comfortable in my cottage I had a strange feeling of uneasiness at the violence of the storm outside, I lit some candles and threw some driftwood logs on the fire which spat and crackled as the flames took hold of them bringing a warm but eerie glow into the cottage as though dancing across the walls.
The icy wind which blew in from the North sea brought hail which tapped against the windowpane tap, tap, tap, lightening flashed across the bay and appeared to be quenched in the seething cauldron which was the sea.
I sat down in front of the fire which was roaring away in the grate and observed as the flames were reflected in the polished brass of the fender around the hearth, I took some old twist tobacco from my pouch and cut a length of it off with my pocket knife which had a whale bone handle now doubt a relic from the days when the whaling fleet used to set out and harpoon those giant creatures of the deep and return with their catch which was used for a variety of things, I placed the tobacco between the palms of my hand and I gently rubbed it before packing into my clay pipe, I put a taper into the flames and as it lit put it to my pipe and began to draw on it until the tobacco was alight I blew the smoke towards the ceiling with some satisfaction. As I listened to the howling of the wind and the constant tapping of the hail on the window pane I felt very much at peace with my surroundings I poured myself a large glass of Whisky from the old decanter and sipped at it savoring every drop I felt a total and complete calm fall over me in the midst of such a violent storm outside my window.
I gazed into the fire and began to drift away while the wind continued to howl and the hail tapped on the window pane, my mind began to think about all those poor souls who were out on the sea that night I must have drifted off into sleep as I awoke to what sounded a more insistent tapping at the window pane I stared through my sleep dulled eyes and I could see what appeared to be a man stood on the balcony tapping at the glass.
My eyes regained their focus and I could see that he was a very tall man and gaunt in appearance dressed from head to foot in black with a cloak which had its collar up against the wind, looking down to his feet he had a pair of black shoes on which looked to have mud on them. I observed his hands which were very slender with long pointed fingernails, He had sunken cheeks which were made more noticeable because of his high cheek bones, his eyes were as black as Whitby jet and appeared lifeless, even on the occasion as the moonlight caught them from behind the passing clouds there was no sparkle just cold dead eyes, his hair which was shoulder length and straight was jet black in colour again shining in the moonlight the blackness of his hair framed a very pale complexion, He stood there one hand tapping at the window and the other hand hung at his side
He carried on tapping at the window pane and stared at me with those dark eyes occasionally which I must say was unnerving, I knew not what he was seeing as he appeared to be looking me up and down from the top of my head to my feet he also looked into all the corners of the room. tap, tap, tap on the window pane then in a single movement he appeared to gesture me towards the window I was unable to avert my eyes and felt compelled to look into those eyes which seemed to be looking directly into my soul I was transfixed and could do nothing but obey his will and I walked towards the window I tried once again to avert my eyes but he seemed to have me hypnotized. he reached out his arm and held up his hand his finger beckoned me to open the window, I noticed that even though the wind howled around him he remained motionless not even a single hair on his head was moving, my hand stretched out towards the catch on the window I was powerless to do any other than what he willed I opened the catch and slowly opened the window and felt obliged to tell him to enter the room.
He stepped through into the room and he seemed to glide over towards the fire and stood by the mantelpiece. He sat opposite me in the fireside chair and stared at me with those dark but strangely dead eyes, He said,†my name is Nathaniel and I have been in Whitby for what seems like centuries and I often wander the cold streets at night looking for people who are willing to invite me into their home. He spoke again, “It is such a foul evening out there and it is so kind of you to let me share the warmth of your fire and to give me some company I would like to offer to you the chance to join me on the journey of an eternity?†He walked around the room well when I say walked he appeared to glide wherever he went, This journey will give you everything but will also cost you everything you have! so tell me would you care to come with me ? I was not sure and I wanted to know more of what this journey was.
I asked Nathaniel to tell me more and offered him a drink of my fine malt whisky Nathaniel said thank you so much but I never drink wine or spirits, I offered him something to eat to warm him up but Nathaniel told me he had already eaten
The room bathed in candlelight and the glow from the fire was very, very cosy and we chatted about this journey he had spoken of. Nathaniel told me of his travels around the world in times past of his visits to the opera houses of Milan the ballet theaters of Paris, the play houses of London this before he decided to live in the quaint old seaport of Whitby his story was fascinating and one which certainly caught my imagination! This man had seen and done all and more than most people can ever dream about, I said,†yes I will join you on that journey because you have excited my mind and you could open up the world for me “.
Then as if from nowhere he was stood directly in front of me with those dark but dead eyes looking directly at me. He towered above me, I looked upon his face which was deathly pale his thin lips parted to reveal what looked like fangs protruding from his upper jaw, his face was emotionless I was powerless and could only stare into his jet black eyes, he reached forward and placed a hand upon my shoulder while the other remained at his side, the hand on my shoulder had a touch so gentle that I could scarcely feel it there at all, my heart began to race at this sight before me, so scary yet so compelling in the candlelight, I had never met anyone like Him before then he stooped and I could smell the aroma of the grave upon his skin, he sniffed at my flesh and breathed in deeply before moving closer to me until his cheek was touching my cheek He was as cold as marble like one who was dead, he then moved towards my neck it was then I felt those fangs sink deep into my vein followed by the sound of him drinking my life’s blood I could hear him sigh with deep satisfaction. The last thing I remember is passing into blackness.
I awoke the very next evening after the sun had gone down the night was calm and the violent storm of the previous day had passed inland and across the North Yorkshire Moors, I looked out across the bay through the twin piers the lighthouses were flashing out their warning to the ships at sea warning of the dangerous rocks awaiting them should they stray too close to the shore, it was just like any other evening with the exception that I had awoken with an incredible thirst for human blood, I wanted to go out onto the cobbled roads of the town and into the dark alley ways of Whitby with there hiding places, as I walked down arguments yard I found my first victim who was on his way home after spending a few hours at the white horse and griffin inn, I dispatched him into the jaws of death.
Nathaniel had gone somewhere into the night after starting me on this eternal journey, he left behind a Vampire.
Graham Jenkinson 30/11/2016 (c)
