----------------------------------------

Flora’s initial courage and consent to stay at the hall under her mother’s watchful eye quickly dissolved into a creeping fear as her brothers departed. She couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that something ominous loomed on the horizon, a premonition she dared not voice aloud.

“I almost wish they hadn’t left,” she murmured to herself more than once, her unease growing palpable.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Bennett couldn’t ignore the weight of responsibility that now rested solely on her shoulders. Guarding her beloved daughter from the horrors that had visited before felt like an insurmountable task, especially considering the terror that could render even her feeble defenses useless.

“It’s only for two hours,” Flora tried to reassure herself. “Two hours will pass quickly.”

Yet, amidst her anxiety, a strange sense of confidence emerged, born from the grim reality of supernatural beliefs that had taken root in her mind. She reasoned that the hours of her brothers’ absence, from nine to eleven o’clock, might be a reprieve from the vampire's dread, given its previous late-night visits.

“It struck after midnight last time,” she mused, “perhaps it can’t strike earlier. Maybe I am safe until then.”

Determined not to retire to bed until her brothers returned, Flora and her mother found solace in a small breakfast room with a latticed window overlooking the serene lawn. The heavy oaken shutters on the inside, securely fastened since the departure of her brothers and Mr. O’Hara on their unsettling mission, offered a semblance of protection.

As they sat in the dimly lit room, Flora couldn’t shake the thought of what her brothers might uncover during their absence. The dread of facing the reality of the vampire's existence, beyond the confines of her nightmares, added a layer of terror to her already fraught state of mind.

As the clock in the hall struck ten, Flora’s anxious anticipation grew. She counted down the minutes until eleven, hopeful for her brothers’ return. Her mother, noting the slight change in Flora’s demeanor, attempted to offer comfort.

“You look more at ease now, dear,” Mrs. Bennett remarked.

“Do I?” Flora replied, her voice tinged with lingering unease.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“Yes, you’re recovering,” her mother assured her. “Time will heal these wounds, and soon, you’ll find peace again.”

Flora nodded, her eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and lingering fear. “I’ll hold onto that belief,” she said. “Henry’s reassurances help. Each time I hear reason, I feel a bit of this dread slipping away.”

A sudden tension gripped the room as Flora’s hand tightened on her mother’s arm. “Listen,” she whispered.

Mrs. Bennett’s complexion paled. “What is it, dear?”

“I’ve heard faint noises outside,” Flora confessed, her voice trembling. “It may be nothing, just my imagination.”

Flora’s pallor intensified, her hand brushing across her brow. An air of distress enveloped her, palpable in the hushed tones of their conversation filled with anxious longing for their return.

“Perhaps we should summon the servants,” Mrs. Bennett suggested, her concern evident. “Their presence might ease your mind until the others return.”

Flora hushed her mother, straining to hear beyond the stillness. “Wait,” she urged. “I must be imagining things.”

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the muffled sounds of their whispered fears. Then, a sharp scratching sound pierced the night, sending Flora into a panic.

“Oh God, it’s back!” Flora cried out, her voice laced with terror.

Mrs. Bennett, overcome with shock, could only watch in paralyzed horror as the scratching intensified and then abruptly ceased. Under different circumstances, such a noise might have been dismissed, but in the eerie stillness of that night, it was an omen of dread that neither could ignore.

The tension in the Bennett household had escalated to the point where even the slightest sound held terrifying significance. What might have once been dismissed as ordinary noises now took on an ominous weight.

As the scratching ceased, Flora’s voice quivered in a hushed tone. “Mother, did you hear that?”

Mrs. Bennett struggled to respond, her fear palpable. Suddenly, the bar securing the shutters fell with a resounding crash, as if moved by an unseen force. The shutters now seemed vulnerable to intrusion from outside.

Covering her face in terror, Mrs. Bennett collapsed, overwhelmed by fear. For a fleeting moment, Flora felt her sanity slipping, but she managed to regain her composure, her eyes fixed on the window, bracing for a horrifying sight.

The eerie scratching against the window resumed, accompanied by sounds of commotion elsewhere in the house. Flora’s heart pounded in her chest as the shutters rattled, slowly opening to reveal a looming figure.

Horror threatened to engulf Flora as she beheld the tall, spectral form before her, clad in ancient garments, its metallic eyes glinting in the dim light. It was the vampire.

With trembling hands, Flora reached for a pistol, aiming it at the figure. The weapon discharged with a deafening roar, causing the vampire to recoil in pain before fleeing into the night.

Amidst the chaos and smoke, Flora’s senses reeled. She fired another shot blindly before rushing from the room in a panic. As she burst through the door, she collided with someone, their arms enveloping her in a dizzying embrace.

The fear of being captured by the vampire overwhelmed Flora, plunging her into unconsciousness as darkness closed in around her.