Harold, a small town in the state of Texas, USA.
"Joseph, how many times have you told this story?" A girl in her mid-teens said to a middle-aged man, "You're exaggerating the mystique of the Orient here in Texas. I don't care about any of that. If it wasn't for the promise of a quicker recovery from my cough, I wouldn't drink his strange brew. It's disgusting. Have you ever felt the sensation of someone stirring their drink with a finger and then offering it to you? And besides... do you really believe the people in superhero movies are real?"
"Why shouldn't I believe?" The middle-aged man, who had put on a bit of weight, glanced at the girl, who seemed distracted. He stared blankly for a moment before saying, "At least... the man cured your cough. That's all there is to it. Now, tomorrow... early, you go and deliver this to him... a basket of juniper berries, and this..."
"I know, it's the third time you've told me. You seem more verbose than before." The young lady stood up, dusting her behind, "He's a strange one. I've never seen a Chinese person living here, he's really odd... or like the Hunchback of Notre Dame..."
"You're no Esmeralda..."
"That's right, who'd fall in love with that freak? Don't look at me like that, I'm only telling the truth." The girl turned around, "I'm feeling sick already. Goodbye... Dad."
"Be home early. You're not of age yet; you're not allowed to spend the night out..." The middle-aged man called out to the figure of the young girl disappearing through the door.
The girl's figure vanished beyond the yard. A young man on a motorcycle was waiting outside. Through the window, the middle-aged man watched his daughter mount the bike, sit on the back, take the helmet, and strap it on. She then wrapped her arms around the waist of the boy in front. The motorcycle roared to life and sped off in a cloud of dust.
"Dammit!" The middle-aged man muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He got up and went to the kitchen to start making the juniper berries. His wife Melissa was gone, leaving him alone with their daughter Lisa.
But he could never forget the scene when Melissa died. It was truly horrific and unforgettable. Amid heart-rending screams, Melissa's mouth sprouted two sharp fangs, her face turned ashen and her eyes glowed like the coldest part of the moon.
"Melissa - My God! No-"
The moon seemed to hide behind clouds, and under the cold moonlight, Melissa suddenly froze, then slowly transformed into what Joseph was imagining now.
"No... you can't hurt our daughter..."
Joseph, not knowing where he found the strength, rushed forward, snatching their one-year-old daughter from the bedside. Melissa lunged at the bed, tearing the sheets to shreds in an instant. But the cold light in her eyes slowly turned to Joseph and Lisa.
It was real, she wanted to kill her own child, and possibly him as well. Joseph felt a fear deep in his heart, terrified that Melissa had turned into this monstrosity, this version of Melissa that no longer recognized her own family.
"Wah-" Maybe it was the terrifying atmosphere, but little Lisa, just over a year old, suddenly burst into tears.
The crying clearly made Melissa's gaze even more greedy and brutal. She couldn't help but stick out her tongue and lick her lips, turning to face the father and daughter, sticking out her tongue and licking her lips again.
"My God!" Joseph realized, Melissa was no longer his wife and mother, she was a vicious demon eager to eat their child. Those sharp teeth were proof enough, and her brutal demeanor chilled Joseph's heart to ice.
"Dammit!" Joseph dashed towards the door, but before he got to the yard, he heard a loud crash. The window had shattered like it was hit by a shell, a silhouette shot out from the room and landed right in front of Joseph and Lisa, who had just made it to the backyard.
"Don't... don't do this to us, Melissa. This is your daughter Lisa, and me... you must recognize me, I'm your husband, Joseph... darling, please wake up." Joseph tried to wake the woman who'd lost her senses, no, a demon that had taken over her body.
His gun, yes, he'd forgotten he had his gun. He made another dash for the house. But this time he was too late, as he turned, his shirt was grabbed from behind, he was lifted into the air and slammed to the ground. But he held his daughter tight in his arms, and she was unscathed.
A gust of cold wind blew by, and before Joseph's eyes was a white silhouette. She tilted her head, a chilling laugh resonated, quiet yet eerie, like a broken string whipped by the wind, lashing at his heart with oppressive discomfort.
"Melissa-" Joseph knew he couldn't escape this time. He saw Melissa's gaping mouth, her rotten teeth, and the two sharpest fangs glinting in the moonlight.
Despair filled his chest, and he let out a scream.
But the scream was strangled, hoarse like a torn piece of cloth, incapable of stalling the terrifying Melissa. As Melissa lunged forward, Joseph tossed the child in his hands out. The kid tumbled on the grass, and the fall triggered an immediate wail. Melissa's head jerked up at the sound, her gaze locking onto the child beside her.
"No, God, please!" Joseph grabbed Melissa, preventing her from hurting the kid.
"Ah—!"
Two sharp teeth sank into Joseph's wrist. As he lifted his head abruptly, he saw Melissa raise hers too, her mouth smeared with fresh blood...
It was an image that Joseph would never forget.
His heart was as cold as the desolate moonlight. Under the cool, round moon, his wife, her hair disheveled and clad in a white dress, sported a ghastly grin. Her mouth was filled with blood, and her two sharp teeth were visible.
"God... save me, save Lisa, my child!"
Joseph moaned in despair. Yes, all he could do was pray. But was God really there? Was he by his side? Was there anyone here who could save him? Or even God?
"Zap—!"
Melissa's head jerked backward violently, and she fell to the ground as if electrocuted. Joseph was still dazed. But he heard it so clearly, it sounded like the cringe-inducing noise of an arrow piercing flesh. Yet, it seemed like pleasant music to him now.
He couldn't describe his current state of mind. Half-dazed, he saw a pair of feet standing on the grass. They were clad in somewhat worn-out sports shoes, a brand he recognized, but they were clean. A man bent down, picked up the crying child from the grass. He gently patted and rocked the child, and miraculously, the crying ceased.
"Who are you?" Joseph struggled to his feet, staring at the man.
A young man, an Asian face, with serene eyes. After settling the child, he didn't glance at her anymore. Instead, he slowly walked toward Melissa, who was lying on the ground. He reached out and grabbed the long, deeply embedded arrow from Melissa's forehead.
"Squelch—" The cringe-inducing sound was heard again as the arrow was pulled out from the flesh. It felt as if a bone had been yanked out, making Joseph's stomach churn.
"Your child!" The Asian man stashed the arrow into an old cloth bag, where a small, delicate bow, almost like a child's toy, was already kept.
Joseph numbly took his child, watching as the Asian man continued to walk away. He couldn't help but call out, "Hey, stranger... wait... can you wait?"
The Asian man stopped, looked at him, and slowly spread his hands but didn't say anything.
"I mean... what should I do?" Joseph glanced at Melissa laying on the ground and suddenly felt a lump in his throat. Her face was pale, lying motionlessly. Now she looked peaceful, no longer ghastly. She resembled a sleeping patient, evoking pity and sadness.
"What do you want to do?" The Asian man looked at him, his expression unchanged.
Joseph swallowed hard, looked at his daughter who was already fast asleep in his arms, and whispered, "I... I don't know what to do. How do I handle all this... Melissa... Oh, my God, I don't know what to do... a moment ago, she was still my wife... who knew it would turn out like this."
"It's not your fault, it's the world's..." The young man looked at Joseph and then walked toward him, "I've seen people like her, I know how to handle them. They're not really like us..."
"So, she... what are they?"
"You can call them vampires... creatures from Western lore that bear no difference from humans... at least that's what I believe. Remember Dracula? Perhaps you've seen them in Hollywood movies... and in literary works... the progenitor of vampires..." The young man spoke and then stood up, ready to leave.
Joseph's throat was dry, he couldn't form any words.
"Wait, wait..." As the young man was about to enter the nearby woods, Joseph called out to him again. He had to stop him, then extended his other hand, "What should I do? I mean... Melissa is dead, how do I handle this situation? Should I call the police?"