Ernie Biggs, Part 3
If you've not seen the previous parts, I seriously reccomend you do. The second worked without the first, but I've not been that thorough this time. Anyway, I think they were better written than this part...
Honestly, this is getting out of hand...

Andrew ran through the narrow back alleys that he knew so well, running as fast as his fat little feet could carry him, but always, always there were the distant sound of footsteps behind him. The creature was obviously playing with him. Andrew knew that whatever else he was, the one thing he wasn't, was fast. He was always the fat kid that the others teased, the wordsmith, the sensitive one. And then of course he had his own problems in life. His father and his mother had made growing up difficult, but growing old suddenly seemed a lot more appealing than it usually did.

And wherever he ran those footsteps stayed behind him, stayed the same distance behind him. He was getting nearer home though, by now. His Mommy would be home now. She could take care of anything. She'd taken care of his father, and things had become better since then.

He turned out of the alley and onto the street. It was a quiet suburban lane and there was no one aound late in the evening. He ran past deserted porches and raced into his gates. Behind him, the steady tap tap tap of the footsteps followed stolidly. As he reached the gate he turned his head and glanced behind him.

Ernie was confidently running behind the boy, clearly barely exerting himself, and when their eyes met he winked, and shouted, "Isn't this fun Andrew? I'm having lots of fun!"

Andrew raced into the house and then to the kitchen. His mother was there, and as usual, she was smoking. She had started smoking four years ago, the day after she stabbed his father, and smoked almost continuously now, like a volcano poised to erupt. For Andrew the smell of cigarettes stood for safety, love and happiness. "What happened baby, why're you so out of breath?" his mother asked. He gasped a few times and shook his head, as if unsure whether or not to say anything, and then, in fits and spurts, told the whole story, about the chocolate store, the strange man, who was a vampire, and his terrifying run back home.

His mother though, did not believe the tale, and scolded him for making up stories. "But ma," began Andrew, then stopped as his mother slapped his face. Hard. The marks of her fingers remained on his face, and her eyes unfocused, and she fussed over him, saying, "Oh dear. Look what you made mommy do darling. Don't you feel bad for making me do this honey? You know I don't like doing things like this." She would have gone on in this way but the kitchen door opened at that moment.

Ernie stepped in soundlessly, and while Andrew gazed in silent horror, his mother shot him an angry look. Before she could say anything, Ernie spoke, in his usual apologetic manner. "Oh hello," he said, "Evening ma'am. I'm Ernie. I just met Andrew outside. He dropped his chocolates all of a sudden, so I came to give them to him." Andrew's mother said, "Back off weirdo!" Sheb rushed to the counter and picked up a heavy knife. Seeing the knife Andrew thought about the last time she held it to a man, his father, and closed his eyes, and cried silently.

'Get out of my house you pedophile, stay away from my son!" she shouted, and motioned with the knife at the door.

Andrew laughed. It wasn't the kind of noise you would associate with someone like Andrew. It was a rich, full laugh, that rang clearly through the small kitchen, a wholesome sound. Somehow Ernie just looked like a high pitched gurgler. "You know this is really fun. But that knife won't hurt me, I'm afraid. Go ahead. Stab me if you like. But I'm a vampire, and something like that just can't hurt me." He ended the sentence with a sort of complicated shrug, and smiled charmingly at Andrew's mother.

"Shut up with this vampire non..." she trailed off from a shout, because Andrews smile became a grimace as he bared his teeth, taking care to show his fangs as fully as he could. After looking soundlessly for a few seconds, she shrieked, but held her ground, and hysterically shouted, "Get out!", the knife point wavering in erratic infinity symbols. Ernie just laughed and carelessly reached out and grabbed the knife out of hand. Then he said, "See, this can't hurt me," and with that he stabbed himself rather theatrically a few times.

Hearing his mother shriek Andrew had opened his eyes, and he drank in the entire scene, desperately searching for something to use as a weapon.

"You see, the only thing that can hurt me is a stake through the heart. Well, that's being overly dramatic, but something wooden anyway, and somewhat pointy. Through the heart is a rather thorough way of doing things though," Ernie continued. "But now you know, this game is getting rather tiresome. Maybe we should try something different," he said, then looked straight at Andrew. He said, "Andrew, what do you think I should do now? Should I skin your mother for you? She'd make a nice carpet, I think. Well Andrew?"

Andrew cowered with fear, and he and his mother watched, paralysed by fear, as Ernie stepped closer to her, knife ready. All of a sudden he stiffened, and softly said, "Dawn is coming. Oh well." In a normal voice he said, "I'm sorry my dear but I can't play with you anymore. I have to go now." Turning on his heel, he walked out to the door, then in one fluid motion, turned and threw the knife at Andrew's mother, cutting her throat without any effort. He turned to a horrified Andrew, and laughed, "I'll see you tonight Andrew. We'll have so much fun together," and with that, he was gone.

Andrew looked at his mother, looked at all the blood, and cried.

I'm really tired of Ernie now, but I didn't have the heart to kill him. What can I say? He's actually not a bad chap to have around...