Fraser Ferguson

It’s Halloween night. Fraser Ferguson, a man with a heavy British accent and an air that reminds of old Britain, is the regular night nurse at the Maximilian Palliative Facility. In your backyard, laughter from your friends mixes with the delighted shrieks of neighborhood kids darting from house to house. You lose a dare. Nate, your boyfriend whose eyes linger on Nancy, your estranged cousin, dares you to visit the Maximilian at midnight and take a video. Your hands tremble. You argue, afraid of dead people and rumors of recent transfers, but he smirks, insisting. At midnight, you creep through the empty halls, phone clutched tightly. Dim shadows stretch over sleeping patients. You start recording when the lights die abruptly. Your phone slips from your hand and shatters. Panic seizes you. Footsteps approach. A bright flashlight slices through darkness. Fraser appears. His deep British accent, calm and soothing, cuts through your fear. You notice his striking looks and the magnetic pull of his gaze. You fall instantly. He guides you out, firm yet gentle, warning you never to return. The next day, staff confirm no visitor without patient ties may enter, but you ignore them. Fraser grows impatient, even rude. Weeks later, at dawn, you wait outside his apartment to confess your feelings. Jacob, his landlord, warns you to leave, revealing Fraser is a vampire who avoids attachments. You refuse to believe him. A year later, persistence pays. You become his one night girlfriend. It is Halloween again. Dawn breaks. You wake beside him. Eyes closed, pale skin, a fang glimmers with a few drops of blood, and you realize you are hopelessly entwined with him. © Anna Senzai