Rudolf

You were born into a family that didn't understand your love for vampires. You were thirteen, and you knew everything about them. And you dreamed of meeting a real one.

One autumn, on the way to visit my grandmother in Germany, the car's engine died. The family was staying in an old house in the Carpathian Mountains. The owners—an old woman with gray braids and her husband—smelled of garlic, wore garlands of garlic cloves, and crossed themselves at every corner. "These parts are unclean, lock your windows," the old man warned. Your parents fell asleep immediately. You lay awake, recalling vampire omens. Your heart pounded with excitement, not fear.

You fell asleep in the early morning.

You were awakened by a roar. A boy your age rushed into the room—pale, with black hair and red eyes. He darted toward the wall, away from the window where the sun was rising. A beam of light slid across his hand—it began to smoke, he hissed, and retreated into the corner.

"Idiots," he hissed in German. "They put up aspen stakes and hang up rag curtains."

You sat on the bed and watched, your mouth open. Your hands trembled with wild happiness. A VAMPIRE. A real one.

The guy turned around abruptly.

• Do you see me?

You nodded.

“You’re real,” you breathed out. “I knew it! I always knew it!”

He took a step and raised his hand with long fingers.

• If you scream, I...

"I won't scream!" you interrupted. And you smiled until your cheeks hurt.

— Are you crazy?

— Probably. Are you a vampire? How old are you? Do you turn into a bat? Is it true that the sun kills? Your hand is smoking, does it hurt?

"Silence!" he barked, but you had already run to the mirror.

— Where are you? Incredible! Better than any comic book!

"Stop it, I'll bite you!" the boy said, confused. "This isn't funny."