I didn't kill Penelope
In the late 18th century, smoke from mechanical giants blurred the once-starry sky. 9-year-old David sat at the dinner table, staring at his food in silence.
The talks of ghosts by the two men he sold papers to; occupied his mind. His father—after a long day of work— cared nothing but to finish his food; his mother insisted that he finish his meal.
"Mother, have you ever seen a ghost?" he asked.
"I haven't told you this. There's a ghost of a girl in a white gown that walks upstairs, and then walks down and vanishes."
"Change the subject," said his father. "Why are we even talking about Penelope or… whatever her name was."
"How do you know her?" he said.
"Know her? No, I don't know her. All I was saying is that whoever killed her must be trying to save her from this world."
"What?"
"That's enough. We are going to sleep."
The streets went silent until only dogs barked, and all fell asleep. But not David.No, he had to prove that his father didn't kill a little girl. So, he sneaked out of bed and peeked through the keyhole. Just like his mother said, a girl around his age, wandered adorned in a white sleep gown. She had curly ginger hair, round eyes, and freckled cheeks. She walked down the stairs, and he opened the door, running behind her. She reached the dinner table, and mist engulfed her feet.
"Penelope?" he said from above.
The mist disappeared, and she looked back, smiling. "Hi, David."
He walked down. "Hi, you know my name?"
"Of course I do. I live here."
"Ah, yes, I noticed. Look, I wanted to ask who killed you?"
"Well, I don't know exactly. He wore a black cap and had this big moustache, and these massive leather boots and dirty black hands."
Oh my god! That's father!
"Do… do you know more?" he asked.
"I can show you the place where he killed me?"
He looked back upstairs. Running in the middle of the night. I never done this before. What if a dog bites me? She's a ghost and worse, a girl. What if she killed me? Can I trust her? But I got to prove that father isn't a killer. He looked back at Penelope and nodded.
"You died here?" he said as they stood in the most lavish manor in the whole area. Its flora designs flowed like golden streams over its red exterior. A smoke of sparkles covered it. Its door stood more sturdy than any other but no less beautiful. The wooden door with flora matched well with the rest. The fragrance of roses made his home smell like a stink hole.
"I lived here," she said.
"So, how did you…?"
"Died?" She said with a loud voice and twinkling eyes.
"Yes," he said.
"Well, I stepped out to see a boy—"
"Wait, there is a boy, now?"
"Yes, Arnold."
"And why were you seeing him?"
"I was sneaking out with him, and so—"
"No wonder you got killed."
"Hmm… what?"
He shook his head. "No, nothing. Please continue."
"And a man walked out that ally and stabbed me."
He looked into the ally to the right of the manor. Shivers ran through his body. Now, he has to walk in the dark alley in the middle of the night. Wasn't running away enough?
"David, are you scared?"
He clutched. "Yes."
She held his hand. "Don't be. I'm with you."
They walked in. It's a shortcut that dad takes to work. It's too tight for any fat, or any of those bulkier guys that father works with. Why couldn't he be a little fat? He eats that much; where does all that food go?
His boots drowned in dirty water, and white dust stuck to his arm from the rotting walls. The bricks beneath him squeaked, and the smell of petrol made walking unbearable.
"What time was it exactly?" he asked.
"Around the same time as now."
"He must've known you would come out." He looked back, and Penelope glimmered more than the moon. He left her hand. "Why are you …?"
"Nobody cared to help before," she laughed and touched his cheek. "Except you… thank you."
"I…ah… you are most welcome. I…ah… the… the…"
She smiled and tilted her head. He closed his eyes and looked away. "The killer must know you would come out. This ally doesn't look like a place to be strolling about at night. We have to find out where it leads."
"I can help," she said and grabbed his hand; she ran, and everything went past in a flash.
"I wish I had that speed," he said when they reached the end. "Mother would never be able to hit me again."
She snickered. "You're funny."
"Thank you, Penelope," he said, and she grinned.
They stood on the main road. Great, the killer could go anywhere from here. At the ally's entrance slept a beggar with a cigarette on his plate. He picked it up, and its ash fell.
"Looks freshly smoked," he said. Then he sniffed the mouth of the beggar. "And I don't think it's his. Should I ask him?"
She shrugged.
He shook him. "Sir?" The beggar woke with blood-red eyes and grabbed his shirt. The smell of alcohol coiled in his nose. He gasped, looking at the beggar's melted face. But then the beggar's eyes widened as though they will fall out. The beggar left him and grabbed his neck, thirsting for air. Penelope gawked at him.
"Penelope, stop!" said David. "What are you doing?"
"He was hurting you."
"Leave him!"
She winced, and air returned to the beggar. He got up and ran away.
"There goes our only witness." He waved his hands in frustration. "What were you thinking?"
"He was hurting you, David."
"So, what? You kill him?"
"I can't let you die too!"
Her stars became numb, but he looked away. He picked up the cigarette and turned it around. Wait, isn't this like the ones father smokes?
"Any clue?"
"Nope, nothing."
"It's your father, isn't it?"
He turned around with a failed smile and hid the cigarette. "What? What are you…um…ah…no, no."
"You're lying."
"Why would I do that?"
"I thought you were my friend." Her voice broke. "But you're just like the others!"
He stepped forward, but she dashed away.
A mist shimmered in the cemetery. Hundreds of graves slept in eternal sleep. Mud covered his boots as he stepped on the grey grass. The gawk of the bald and dark trees made him shiver. Finally, he found Penelope sitting beside one of the graves.
"I hope to find you here. May I sit?"
She nodded, and he sat beside her. "I'm sorry. Yes, all the clues point to my father."
"But why would he kill me?"
He think hard, and his eyes fell on the tomb:
Edward James Penelope. Died 1820.
"You died in 1820?"
"It's my mother's. They never found my body."
"Oh."
Silence engulfed them, broken only by the distant howls and barks of dogs. "I don't care who killed me," she said. "I let go of that a long time ago."
She faced him. Her freckles glittered, and her lips looked as soft as rose's petals. "But you helped me still." She touched his cheeks. The chill turned warm as she brought her face close and closed her eyes. Both of them inched nearer. Her fangs erupted, and she stabbed in the neck. His skin burned, his vision blurred with every second, and his breath got sucked along with his blood. Someone hit Penelope in the head, and she flew away.
His breath returned, and his vision became clear. His father stood beside him with a big hammer, while Penelope stood far away, hidden in the mist. Her fangs dripped off his blood.
"Drink this! Hurry!" His father handed him a small vile. He drank it, and the burning stopped.
His father yelled and ran. Penelope jumped on his head, and he fell. David stood frozen as both of them fought. Sweat covered his face. Penelope took out her claws and slashed his father's face. He shook his head and picked up the hammer; he hit her, throwing her away. He helped his father, and both of them turned in direction.
"He's immune to you, now," said his father. "And I killed you before. What chance do you have now?"
She screeched and disappeared in the mist.
"I told you to change the subject," said father.
"Who is she?"
"Well, she's… Penelope. I don't know her real name, so I call her that. She's a vampire."
"I guessed that part myself."
"Too late, to be honest."
"But why is she at our house?"
"I'm the only one that escaped her when I was little, and I also saved that boy Arnold. She wanted to take revenge."
"Why didn't she kill me straight up?"
They started walking. "The people know her. If she hunts in the city, they'll kill her. So, she lures them here. Easier to hide the bodies."
He pointed at his father's face. "How are going to explain that to mother?"
He chuckled. "I'll tell her I met my ex. But what about you?"
Then both of them laughed and went home. But in the darkness, Penelope waited. She waited for the next son.