You are relaxing on a couch, your ears being serenaded by the soft hug of classical music.You feel tired after a day of running around and accomplishing your tasks. As you begin to reach for a glass of freshly brewed chamomile tea, a distinct click and whirr presented itself amongst the lulling notes of Vivaldi.
Your mind is undecided, whether to placate the heart that it was just a figment of fiction, or to source out the enigmatic sound. You wave it off as though it were wind.
The tune switches to a somber moan, a tinge of Liszt and Chopin singing their sorrowful ballad of keys on piano. You begin to absentmindedly examine your camera, placed upon the coffee table. You had only bought it earlier, from a shady street market vendor and at a cheap price too.
It was a vintage, something you had hoped to own.
“Did it just click at me?”
You were sure that it wasn’t an automatic. A small whistle blew against the stereo. You turn, as though you heard it from behind you.
There is nobody there.
A tingling sensation appears on the hairs behind your neck. Someone, or something, is watching you. You decided to close your eyes as you turn back to the front. Your eyes defy your mind. Slowly, the gates to your pupils opened.
Your body freezes in shock. Your teeth stay clenched shut. You feel bound to the armchair.
Before you. A male figure dressed in funeral attire. His teeth dripped with crimson. The eyes bore deep into yours, its icy blue pupils striking a conflicted feeling into your heart. Where the camera stood, now lies a dashing man.
“H-Hi,” you reply.
The man smiles, bearing his fanged teeth. He stands up, bending abruptly to meet his face directly parallel to yours. You give a big gasp.
“My name is Alexander.”
“Thank you for buying me.”