First chapter of a novel I wrote which revolves around an immortal vampire who has neglected to pay any taxes during the years he has lived in the United States and is visited by a human tax collector from the IRS.
The castle-type mansion stood tall and imposing, surrounded by a moat of murky water that seemed to flow from the depths of the earth. Its walls were made of stone so thick that they seemed to absorb the light, casting a shadowy pall over the landscape.
The mansion was perched on a hill, and the trees that surrounded it had long since died, their skeletal remains a testament to the unyielding darkness that emanated from the castle. Two towering pillars stood at its gates almost like massive hands and the leaves that had once rustled in the gentle breeze now in the area lay scattered on the ground like the remnants of a forgotten melody.
The pillar gates leading to the mansion were wrought blackened rust, polished with age and neglect, their sharp grey spikes reaching towards the sky like the fingers of a long-dead giant. The wind howled through the gates, as if warning any who dared to enter of the peril that awaited them.
The windows of the mansion were tall and narrow, like the eyes of a predator watching its prey. Their panes were made of a dull grey lifeless glass, and they reflected no light from within like a corpse without a soul. The only sound that could be heard was the soft tapping of raindrops against the glass, like the footsteps of a thousand ghosts walking across the roof trying to find their way home.
As night descended, the mansion seemed to come alive with a dark heartbeat. The sky grew dark, and the moon was shrouded by a thick blanket of clouds. A lone raven perched on the highest tower of the mansion, its eyes glowing red in the darkness.
But despite its eerie presence, there was a strange beauty to the mansion. Its gothic architecture was ornate and intricate, with spires and arches that seemed to reach towards the heavens. The moss that clung to the walls was a vibrant shade of green, contrasting starkly with the dull grey stone and the other lifeless features.
The mansion was a contradiction, both hauntingly beautiful and terrifyingly dark. It stood as a testament to the secrets and mysteries that lay hidden within its walls, drawing the curious and the brave, only to leave them forever changed, their spirits forever haunted by the secrets they had uncovered. Such secrets made those who looked upon its daunting structure wonder in amazement. Inside the castle a figure could be seen moving in the shadows of the living room.
The centuries-old vampire, Silva Rainstorm, was lounging on his velveteen couch, sipping on a glass containing such a velvet red color. He had just finished reading the latest installment of the Game of Thrones series, and found it thoroughly entertaining. As he closed the book, there was a knock at the door.
"Who could that be?" he muttered to himself, placing the book on a coffee table made with spikes and covered with ashy grey substance. He made his way to the door, wondering who would dare to interrupt his peaceful evening. Come to think of it Silva had not had a guest in what must have been over a millennium.
As he opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of a stout man dressed in a drab gray suit, holding a leather-bound ledger embolden with a golden seal that said, “The United Nations of Humans.”
"Good evening, sir. My name is Zacchaeus Matthews, and I'm here to collect your overdue taxes," the man said, his voice monotone and businesslike while looking down at a piece of parchment held in his right hand. “This is you correct, Silva Rainstorm?”
Silva raised an eyebrow. "Overdue taxes, you say?" His fingers twiddling together as his hands collapsed anxiously.
"Yes, sir. It seems you haven't paid your taxes in quite some time. I'm afraid I'm here to collect the outstanding balance," Zacchaeus replied.
Silva smirked, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "And how much do I owe, exactly? Tell me the damages suit man and I shall remedy the situation without further recourse.”
Zacchaeus consulted his ledger. "According to my records, you owe a total of 50 million dollars.”
Silva let out a low chuckle. “50 million human dollars? My dear man, do you know who I am? I’ll pay that with pocket change! How many human coins will that be?”
Zacchaeus looked confused. "I'm afraid I don't follow sir. You owe a substantial amount of income taxes. A mere few quarters won’t pay for these taxes.”
Silva grinned. "I am Silva Rainstorm, the Calamity. Count Dracula himself gifted me this domain and great castle. Surely, you've heard of me?"
Zacchaeus shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not familiar with that name. Believe it or not your not the first vampire I’ve met.”
Silva's grin turned into a scowl. His mallen streak of white hair had suddenly become much paler than it once was but what was much more stirring had to be the cacophony of howling roars erupting from the basement below his feet. "You've never heard of me or even Dracula? The most infamous vampire in all of history?"
Zacchaeus shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir. If anything my bosses are most likely vampires. You should meet Sandy from Human Resources I think you two would get along. She can be a real nightmare on Mondays especially when she hasn't had her morning coffee.
Silva rolled his eyes. "Well, I assure you, I am not a force to be ignored. I am very much real, the night’s storm they called me during those crusades! I don't take kindly to people trying to collect taxes from me and especially payment that I don’t think I'm owed to pay.”
Zacchaeus looked unfazed. "I'm sorry, sir, but taxes are a necessary part of society. Everyone has to pay them, regardless of their status or reputation."
The full chapter is on my blog at
https://www.deviantart.com/roseblood...pire-955530709
Thanks for reading if you did and feedback is welcome!