Love, Val.

Monday, 4:23pm

Val to Peter

Hello, Peter.

Long time no see. Are you still based in Whitby? Would love to catch up.

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Love,

Val

Wednesday, 2:45pm

Peter to Val

Hey, Val.

Apologies, I’ve been away and have only just checked my emails. Though, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again. I’m not sure what you remember. You look well. You look as if you haven’t aged a day, actually. Unfortunately, I’m not in Whitby anymore; we moved to London last year. Could I ask what made you email?

Cheers, Peter

Wednesday, 6:02pm

Val to Peter

Hi, Peter.

That’s a shame. I do remember it all very well. I was hoping to explain myself or something like that. I am sorry, Peter. I wish I could’ve reached you sooner. A lot of absurd and remarkable things happened to me all those years ago, but the downside to them is I sort of lost my ability to communicate with those I would’ve liked to. That might not matter anymore, though, I suppose. London sounds fun. And might I ask, who is we?

Love, Val

Thursday, 1:15pm

Peter to Val

Hey, Val.

Well, I’m not sure what you mean, but I do hope the years have treated you well. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hold any resentment, and I would perhaps appreciate some kind of explanation, but that’s up to you. London is fine, thanks. Not as pretty as Whitby—I miss the views—but this city is proving to be far better for work. ‘We’ is my wife and I. Her name is Sanya.

Peter

Friday, 8:12am

Val to Peter

Morning, Peter.

I didn’t imagine I’d have to explain over email, if I’m honest, but I can try to summarise. We visited Whitby Abbey, up the hill. Do you remember? It was freezing and wet, but it was a wonderful morning. Then you had to run to catch the train to Manchester. I told you to go without me and that I’d meet you later that day, but something strange happened. Something I’d hoped I could tell you in person, so you could see in my eyes I was telling the truth.

I’m not crazy. Though, if I tell you what happened that day, I might seem it. Sanya is a lucky woman.

Val

Friday, 2:02pm

Peter to Val

I’m a lucky man, more like. Sanya is amazing. And still, you confuse me. You can tell me you were bored and wanted to leave. It’s been long enough that it won’t hurt my feelings. I know you wanted to go places and do things, and it was obvious that once either of us left Whitby, we would be on different paths. There’s no need to make up any kind of extravagant story to explain yourself. But sure, what did you see?

Peter

Friday, 6:30pm

Val to Peter

Afternoon, Peter.

I understand why you would feel that way, but I assure you my extravagant story is not at all made up. I’m sorry you’ve felt that way over the years—that I was bored. I was never bored. Sure, Whitby wasn’t where I saw myself living forever, but I would have been happy anywhere if it was with you. Something got in the way, Peter. I wouldn’t have chosen it, but I had no choice but to embrace it. You know about the stories and folklore in Whitby, don’t you? The history with Dracula? I’m sure you do.

Val

Friday, 8:12pm

Peter to Val

I told you I’m married, Val. You shouldn’t tell me things like that. I don’t know how to feel, and I’m not even sure if I believe you. I can’t begin to tell you what I went through after you left. And yes, I know about the Dracula stuff. What has that got to do with anything?

I might not respond for a bit, taking Sanya to Brighton for the weekend.

Peter

Friday, 9:01pm

Val to Peter

I understand, Peter.

I’m becoming more sure now that telling you what happened to me over email will only make you think I’m lying or insane. But the old folklore, the vampire stories, it’s all real. It really exists. There’s a whole other world under Whitby, Peter. If you ever find yourself in Whitby again, I just ask that you give me a call. I don’t want anything more than to explain myself and make peace with you. You will always be important to me, even if your life isn’t here anymore.

Val

Sunday, 5:15pm

Val to Peter

Hello again, Peter.

I know you said you’d be away for the weekend, but this wait feels like a lifetime, so I feel that I must follow up. I just need to write this down. All I can ask is that you try to believe me.

After you left that day, I had an experience with a vampire—or something similar. An individual who ticked almost every ‘vampire’ box. She was the only other person by the Abbey, just standing there, staring at a wall as if it was her own work. I think she noticed I was alone and came to say hello. I thought she was just being polite. Her skin was more pale than anyone I’d ever met, like it had been bleached. Her eyes were dark, like they were all pupil, no white. And her teeth—she even had the teeth! You’d think she was in fancy dress for a Halloween costume.

When she approached me, it was so quiet, Peter. Everything was quiet. I know Whitby isn’t exactly the loudest place in the world, it’s certainly not London, but this was different. It was freakishly quiet. Even the birds were silent, like time had paused.

I wasn’t sure for quite some time after it happened, but I can say it confidently now, Peter: I was converted. She made me into something new. A creature. A vampire.

I never left Whitby, Peter. I’ve just been in a different part of it than you have. It’s underground; it’s in the alleys and corners. It’s all the dark parts, in the shadows that people don’t dare to wait around in idly. That’s where I live. That’s where I have lived for years now. I wanted to speak to you sooner, but I was scared. I didn’t know what you would think or say. I didn’t even know what I would think or say. The other ones, the people who are like me, they warn me not to interact with mortals. That's what they call you. Nothing has been the same, Peter. Nothing has been okay in a very long time, and it’s come to a point where I didn’t know who else to turn to. I’m lonely and it isn't fair. I never got a choice.

We aren’t a wholesome, thriving, gothic community. This isn’t a movie. We don’t live in groups. We don’t have friendships. I’m surrounded everyday by people and things I never knew could possibly be real, yet I'm alone.

I’ll be honest, I had a kind of fantasy about seeing you again and you wanting me to convert you. Like an eternal love, undead cliché. Like a fairytale. I was never going to do it if you didn’t want me to, but part of me thought you might. That thought had kept me going. Though I suppose that isn’t on the cards for you anymore, is it?

I hope you and Sanya have an amazing life, Peter, and if you ever find yourself in Whitby again, please don’t hesitate to call. I’d like to see you again.

Love, Val