The Strange Tale of Angelica Crawford (613 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.73 on 20 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by frankthebear (View user info) at 2007-09-10 01:33:01 EDT
The Strange Tale Of Angelica Crawford.
By
Frank R.
Every small town has its own local legends; an old house that used to belong to a homicidal doctor; a quarry where thirty kids were found dead after a party; or even the standard old lady whom some kid swears he saw eat another kid. Well my town was no different.
The kids in my town like to scare each other with the story of Angelica Crawford, a school teacher who was bitten by a vampire back in the 1800's. The legend says she and the vampire that bit her terrorized the town for about fifteen years, and then, one day, the attacks suddenly stopped and she was never heard from again.
Now this is where the details of the story start to get fuzzy. Some people like to tell that a vampire hunter came to offer his services to the town and killed Angelica and her maker. Others say Angelica and her maker got into a huge fight and killed each other. The dumbest version of the story I ever heard was that Angelica moved back into the school and is still there to this day, feeding from the teachers a little at a time so no one would notice anything was out of the ordinary.
How do I know all this? Simple. I had to write up this stupid essay on local legends for class. At first I was only doing it because I had to scrape a passing grade to stay on the baseball team, but before I knew it, I was fascinated by the subject. Even in college I spent as much time as I could studying the legend of Angelica Crawford, not to mention all sorts of other cryptozoological creatures. I spent one spring break on a hunt for the Jersey Devil, and I would have gone on the trip to Loch Ness but I ran out of cash.
Now I'm a librarian back in my home town of Braddock. Occasionally I get other kids in my library doing research for essays of their own. I always tell them about Angelica Crawford first. I've started to get a bit of a reputation around town as a second-rate storyteller, but I don't care. I don't expect them to understand what I know. I know Angelica Crawford is real. I've met her. Let me explain.
I was working in the library late one evening six months ago when I received a phone call. A gentleman from out of state had just bought one of the oldest houses in town and he was looking for someone to appraise a large collection of old books left behind by the previous owner. Naturally I agreed at once to come over to inspect the books, partly out of professional interest, but mostly because the house in question was rumored to be the house that had, once upon a time, belonged to Angelica Crawford.
The house had been abandoned for as long as anyone in town knew. Even the old folks who still had most of their marbles couldn't remember anyone ever living there since the turn of the century, so naturally I was eager for a chance to explore the place. So at six o'clock the next evening, I drove up the long graveled driveway and parked in front of the entrance. The new owner had made a perfunctory effort to clear some of the vines and weeds out of the way of the doors.
I knocked and was soon greeted by the new owner, Mr. Cassidy. We exchanged a few pleasantries as he showed me to the study where the books were. I was expecting a few piles of rotting, moldy books barely holding themselves together, but I was pleasantly surprised when I saw shelves neatly lined with handsome and extremely well preserved leather-bound books. Mr. Cassidy left me to the books saying he had to go down to the town hall to sign a few papers.
It only took me a few moments of inspection to determine the books were worth a small fortune. But the value of the books quickly left my mind as I realized I was alone in the house that had fascinated me for nearly half my life. I started walking around the house, taking my time and examining every corner of every dusty room.
Again I was surprised at how well everything had survived the passage of time, as though the dust had formed a protective layer over everything, warding off decay and corrosion. There wasn't a speck of rust on any of the cast iron in the kitchen, not even the slightest hint of mold in the bathroom. The walls were dry and solid, as if the house had been built in a time before dry rot. I made my way up the stairs to the second floor without so much as a single creak from the floor boards.
The second floor was all bedrooms furnished with large canopy beds with rich velvet curtains. The carpets sent up silent puffs of dust as I walked across them. Hanging in the closets was another small fortune of turn of the century clothes that looked as though they could have been newly bought only weeks ago. The only flaw I saw In all the house was in the second floor hallway. A large black stain on the wall as if something had been burned there. I was at a complete loss to explain any of this and it was starting to creep me out. My imagination started to play tricks on me. I kept expecting to see a pair of glowing red eyes over a grinning set of fangs every time I went around a corner.
I checked my watch and realized I had been wandering around the house for over an hour, and I decided I didn't feel like explaining to Mr. Cassidy what I was doing walking all around his house without permission. For a moment I panicked because my foot prints would give me away, but a frantic look around set my mind at ease. There were already numerous foot prints all over the house, mine were indistinguishable from the rest.
I made my way back down to the study to wait for Mr. Cassidy. I decided to take a closer look at some of the Shakespeare that looked suspiciously like first editions. As I was reaching for a copy of "Twelfth Night," I caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and surprised myself by laughing. I had seen the blood-red cover of Braham Stoker's "Dracula." Talk about a coincidence!
I reached instead for "Dracula" and was just about to pull it off the shelf when I heard the sound of a car coming up the driveway. I made my way to the front door to see Mr. Cassidy coming up the stairs.
"Well Mr. Barker," he said greeting me, "What do you think about the books?"
"I'd take the precaution of inviting a professional appraiser to double check, but from what I can tell, those books are in excellent condition and could be worth thousands."
"And did you, ah, see anything...unusual while I was away?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well it's just that ever since I got here, I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look, there's nothing there."
"You don't say!" I said, barely suppressing a whoop of excitement. It had always been rumored that the house was haunted, whether because of the legend of Angelica Crawford or otherwise.
"You don't happen to know anything about this house that maybe others aren't telling me, do you?" He asked this with the air of a man who would rather hear a lie he could use to cling to sanity than a truth that would lead him into uncharted waters. Sadly for him, this was the chance I had been waiting for and I wasn't going to let it slip by.
"Well as a matter of fact, there is something about this house that I think you'd be very interested in." I said. "Let's go back into the study and I'll tell you all about it."
Mr. Cassidy almost looked like he had been told he had to eat something unpleasant. We walked back to the study, and I figured my imagination was playing tricks on me again, because I thought I saw something move from the corner of my eye. In the study we sat down and I told him the story of Angelica Crawford. All the legends, all the variations, all the theories.
By the time I finished, I found it was myself in the unfamiliar waters. Instead of skeptical scorn, Mr. Cassidy seemed nearly as interested in the legend as I was.
"Well this is fantastic!" he said, "Imagine the possibilities! This could be an incredible tourist attraction!"
"Well," I said, "It's your house and I can't tell you what to do with it, but I would appreciate a chance to explore the house first. With your permission of course."
"Well certainly! In fact I was thinking you could come to work for me to act as the tour guide, since you know so much about the story."
"Oh...That's very...generous." I said, taken aback. In truth, I was ready to agree to anything if it would give me free reign throughout the house.
"Then it's settled!" he said, slapping the arm of his chair. "I expect you'd like to move in immediately?"
"I-what?"
"Move in. You. As in live here."
And that was how it all started. I packed up my things and moved into one of the bedrooms on the second floor, and then spent the rest of my free time helping to clean up the house. And as I made my way around the house, I started to notice that something wasn't quite right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. What I was sure of was that whatever was wrong, it was something to do with the second floor. The rooms didn't seem to be the right size. I took an afternoon off and did some research in the library, finally finding the original blueprints to the house.
Carefully rolling out the yellowed and crumbling plans, I discovered what was wrong: there appeared to be another room on the second floor that had been closed off. Further inspection showed that the hidden room was right beside mine, and that I could get into it by knocking a hole in the back wall of my closet.
I nearly flew on the way back to the house, arguing with myself whether or not I should share this discovery with Mr. Cassidy. Of course I should tell him! It's his house after all! No! I took the time to discover this! I should be the first one to see if anything is in there! Arriving back at the house, the decision was already made for me. Mr. Cassidy's car was gone.
I ran for the tool shed behind the house. I grabbed a hammer and a crow bar and ran back into the house and up the stairs to my room. I almost pulled the closet door off it's hinges in my excitement. I pushed all my hanging clothes aside to clear the back wall of the closet. There it was! Barely six inches between me and a secret over a hundred years old!
Without hesitation I raised my hammer and started tearing into the plaster with the claw end. Within seconds, I had torn out the old lathing and insulation and broke through the other side. I couldn't see anything through the hole. I leaned closer to peer inside but quickly backed away because there was a horrible smell coming out now. I backed out of the closet and went to open the windows. I then went back into the closet and found a flash light which I shone into the hole.
What I saw then made me forget about the smell. I forgot about Mr. Cassidy. I forgot about everything when I saw the outline that was unmistakably a coffin. I picked up the crow bar and started opening up the hole more. Soon it was large enough for me to climb through. I shone the light around the room, it was small and bare. In one wall I could see the window that had been boarded up from the outside, the glass panes still in place. There was nothing else but the coffin.
I knelt down to examine it closely. It must have been pretty expensive back when it was new, all black lacquer and brass fittings. I tried to open it but it had been nailed shut. I stood up and went back to the hole where I had dropped the crow bar. I returned to the coffin and had nearly jammed the end of the bar into the crack under the lid when I stopped. What the hell was I doing? I should get the police. I should tell...someone!
But then reason reasserted itself. This coffin had been here for a hundred years, and there was nothing any police or doctors could do for it. I inserted the blade of the crow bar under the edge of the lid and carefully started to pry it up. The nails squealed in protest as I pulled up the lid. When the last nail finally came free I lifted the lid, and I nearly died of fright.
Lying in the coffin, as if she had been set there yesterday, was the body of a young woman. I went completely numb. It was real. SHE was real. I stood there, a rational, intelligent twenty-first century person, looking down on the vampire, Angelica Crawford. I started to back away in terror, but only managed half a shuffling step before a small voice of reason piped up from the back of my mind. It was the middle of the day. Night was still hours away. Then I realized that I had just freed a real vampire who now had a doorway leading directly into the room where I slept.
I decided the only course of action was to seal her up again and close the wall. And then? Then I get the hell out and never mention this to another human being for as long as I live. With sweaty hands, I picked up the lid and was about to put it back when I saw her eyes were open and she was looking at me. The coffin lid fell out of my nerveless fingers. This was it. I was dead meat.
"Please don't." She said. If there had been any other sound in the house I wouldn't have been able to hear her, her voice was barely a whisper. I tried to say something but only managed a rush of breath. Her red lips spread into a small smile across her pale face. "Don't be afraid." I couldn't hear anything this time, but read her lips.
Slowly she unfolded her arms and pulled herself up into a sitting position. She was wearing a dark red dress with a high neck. Her hair was up in a braid coiled at the base of her neck. I was surprised to discover she was extremely beautiful.
"Thirsty!" she rasped. This time I did take a few steps back, only I found myself backed up against the wall opposite from my hole, my only escape.
"Don't be afraid." she whispered again, getting out of the coffin with what seemed a monumental effort. She slowly approached me, staring me straight in the eye. I felt...well I don't really know what I felt then. I think she might have hypnotized me then. The fear seemed to melt away and I felt calm. At peace with the world.
She smiled then, seeing that whatever she was doing was working. Barely aware, I saw her gently take my left hand and raise it to her mouth. I know in any other time and place I would have been terrified at the prospect of a vampire raising any part of my body to her mouth. Yes I know how that sounds. But instead of biting me, she used the nail on her thumb to open up a small cut about an inch long just above the inside of my wrist.
I could do nothing but watch as she began to drink. I was expecting at any second to start feeling weak and anemic, but she only drank for a few seconds before stopping herself and pressing a white handkerchief to the wound.
"There now!" she said. Her voice was now strong and melodious. It was a pleasant voice to listen to, and I knew that if she were to sing, it would be glorious. "I told you not to be afraid. I just needed a little drink. Just enough to help me wake up. How long have I been sleeping?"
I now found myself calm and collected, the fear controlled for the moment, though I had a feeling she was doing something to help with that.
"Uh, it's been about a hundred years," I said. I felt a sudden impulse to apologize for this bit of news, sure she would take it badly, but she seemed to shrug it off. I suppose a hundred years is nothing to a vampire. I was starting to come to grips with the situation now, and felt ready to step up to the conversation. "I have to admit, I've imagined this moment ever since I was a kid."
"How do you mean?" she asked, a slight smile playing across her lips again, showing a brief flash of white which I knew was a fang.
"I've been fascinated by your story since I was in school. You're something of a local legend, you know."
"Am I really?" Now she was clearly amused. "I had no idea I would become so...infamous in my absence."
"You are! But there's something I've always wanted to know, that I never thought I would learn the answer."
"And that is?"
"What happened to you? How did you end up in here?"
The smile faded from her face. Her face, cold and amused before, was now just cold. "Before I tell you that, why don't you tell me what you do know first?"
So I did. I told her everything I had told Mr. Cassidy about the legends. I told her about the conflicting viewpoints about why she suddenly disappeared. She listened to all this without interruption, standing like a statue. However I did notice the corner of her mouth twitched at the mention of the other vampire who made her.
"So that's all I know," I finished lamely. "These are the stories that got passed down over the years."
"And you found my story fascinating, did you?" she asked, her voice as cold as it was lovely a few minutes ago. I was starting to get scared again. She noticed this and waved a hand at me in a gesture of annoyed dismissal. "I already told you twice not to fear me! If I wished you dead, dead you would already be! But it is not at you that I am angry. The story about me fighting the other vampire is the true one."
"How did it happen?" I asked eagerly.
"Can we not go out of this room and sit?" she gestured at the hole I had made in the wall. It was now dark in the room beyond. I offered her a hand to help her through the hole, and she graciously accepted, the smile reappearing. Once back in my room, I turned on the light and got chairs for us.
"Yes," she said, looking around, "This was my room once. I see you've left the furniture in the same arrangement."
"Well, it was so comfortable in here already, I didn't see any reason to go changing things around." I said awkwardly. I never expected to discuss furniture arrangements with a vampire. But then of course, I never expected to find a vampire in my closet either.
"Now then," she began in a business like tone. I could imagine her addressing her classes in this tone and had to repress a smile. "You wanted to know how I came to be sealed away in the secret room. It's not a happy story."
"That's all right," I said, "I can't think of anything I'd rather do that listen to your story!"
"That's sweet of you to say," she said smiling more broadly, this time clearly showing both fangs. "Well it all begins, as you know, in 1876. My family and I had just bought this house and we had only finished getting comfortable when we were visited in the night.
"My father answered the knock and saw what we thought was a beggar. My parents were good Christian people and saw it as their Christian duty to invite the beggar in and care for him, but I had a feeling I couldn't explain that this man could not be trusted. I tried and tried to tell my father but he would not listen.
"And so my parents took in the beggar and tried to make him comfortable. They tried to get him to eat, but he claimed to be ill and that he needed to rest to get his strength back. He also took to locking himself in his room during the day, only emerging at night when he said he was feeling better. He would then go out saying he was able to get some work at the train yards at night.
"Naturally I assume you can see what this all means."
"Of course. He was a vampire."
"Correct. Sadly my parents never suspected a thing, despite how many times I pleaded with them to cast the stranger out. There had been strange disappearances in the town ever since the night he arrived. Finally my father became angry with me and ordered me to go and apologize to the beggar for doubting him.
"I had no choice in the matter now, my father's word was law in our house. So with dread in my heart, I climbed the stairs late one evening and knocked on his door. He opened the door almost before I had knocked the third time. It was the first time I had seen him up close as I had made a great effort to avoid him.
"I did as I was told and apologized to the stranger, explaining that I had not trusted him as I should. He only smiled. That was when I saw his fangs. Those fangs were the last things I ever saw as a mortal. Before I knew what was happening, he had a hold of me and was biting into my neck. I felt cold. The cold of coming death. I could feel the very veins in my limbs collapsing as they were emptied. My heart slowed more and more and then finally stopped."
"And you died." I said in an awed whisper.
"Not completely. I stayed alive for another minute more, before my brain used up the last of its oxygen. All I could feel was a soul freezing cold. And then gradually, everything went gray, then black. Then I finally died."
"I'm sorry." I said, and meant it. "It must be hard to re-live this."
"Re-live? I don't quite understand that phrase. But no matter. Save your pity. I look at that experience as an unpleasant moment. Nothing more. The memory of such mortal pain and fear has no effect on me now. But I digress. I awoke the next evening and such a thirst I had never known. The thirst was all encompassing, all consuming, I couldn't think of anything else but the thirst.
"I went to the pitcher on the night stand and drank straight from it, but was immediately sick and vomited. Then I heard his laughter. I turned and saw the stranger standing in the door, but he no longer looked like a ragged beggar, but a distinguished gentleman. I looked closed and saw he was wearing my father's clothes.
"'Does the thirst hurt?' he asked me, mocking me. 'Help me!' I begged him as I stumbled in my weakness. 'Come child! I shall teach you to feed!'
"And he did. Before I was aware of it, five years had passed. The time had passed in a haze of blood and death. It was almost like waking from a deep sleep. It took me a few days to remember who I was and what had happened to me. Then I was wracked with grief as my mind slowly unraveled the jumbled thoughts and memories from the past two years.
"The vampire, Mathew, had destroyed my parents but left me whole so as to be his companion. He had taught me to feed on the mortals, and had used my father's house for his own. And even as I entertained thoughts of escape, the memories of his fearsome strength and terrible powers came to me and I knew I could never simply escape into the night.
"I only had one choice: to hide the fact that I had come to my senses and wait until I could match his strength."
"How long did you wait?" I asked, hanging on every word.
"Not long enough. I waited ten years. And when I judged myself to be a match for him, I confronted him."
"I hope you gave him what he deserved!" I said.
"Oh I certainly gave as good as I got!" she said, with a pained smile at the memory. "Our battle raged for a whole year."
"A YEAR!?"
"That's right. Every evening after sundown, we would emerge from our slumber and continue the fight until morning, when we would retreat to our coffins to sleep away another day."
"So then what happened?"
"There came a night when our fight took us up to the top of the bell tower of the town hall. And in our rage, the stonework crumbled under our feet. We plummeted all the way to the ground where our bodies were broken. Side by side, inch by inch, we dragged ourselves back to the house. We gained the stairs and the second floor, but Mathew's room was past mine, the one at the end of the hall.
"I managed to get myself into my coffin, sure that there was no way Mathew would continue the fight with dawn so close. But I was wrong. As I fell into my coffin and pulled the lid closed, I heard the sound of pounding and hammering: Mathew had strength enough to nail my coffin shut. By this time he had recovered enough strength to drag my coffin into the secret room and close up the wall, all the while shouting at me that he would leave me there for a few decades until I had learned my place.
"But his act of spite was his undoing. No sooner had he finished walling up my prison than dawn broke. He had lost track of time in his fury and was caught out of his coffin. I could hear his screams coming from the hallway and knew what had happened. My greatest hope had been achieved, but at a terrible price. I had won my freedom, at the cost of that freedom. And I've been sleeping ever since, waiting for the day when I would be free.
"And for that, I am eternally grateful to you, sir." she finished her story and inclined her head in token of a bow.
"That's the most amazing story I've ever heard!" I said. "And is that gratitude the reason you didn't kill me?"
"No." she said, "I have no desire to kill again. What I have taken from you I can take from anyone in the same way. I shall never kill again, nor risk the creation of more of my kind. And now good sir, I must take my leave. The night is still young and I have a hundred years worth of thirst to cure."
She stood up and started for the door.
"Wait!" I said standing up and following. She turned to face me with eyebrows raised. "Where will you go now?"
"Such a silly question!" she said and laughed, a clear, musical sound. "I shall feed tonight, and then I shall come back to sleep."
"You...you're coming back here?"
"Of course! This is, after all, my home."
And that is how I came to meet Angelica Crawford and hear her incredible story. I never told Mr. Cassidy. I would have to be crazy to tell anyone. I cleaned up the mess in my closet and turned the back wall into a working door that could only be opened if you knew where to press to release a hidden catch.
Mr. Cassidy proved as good as his word and opened up the house as a tourist attraction, and we've been turning quite a comfortable profit. I fulfilled my role as the tour guide, and I convinced Mr. Cassidy to hire Angelica, posing as an actress, to play herself for the tourists. She considers it great fun scaring the hell out of a bunch of slack-jawed yokels from Vermont, and then she goes out to feed, always coming back before morning to the safety of her secret room.
So what's next for me, you ask? Well winter's coming on soon, so the tourists are going to dry up. I have some vacation time piled up so I think I'll take a little trip down south. I've already hunted the Jersey Devil, missed out on the Loch Ness Monster, and frequently associate with a vampire. So now I think I'll set my sights on the Chupicabra. And next year, Sasquatch.
User Reviews
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2008-03-03 07:31:21 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2007-09-11 14:57:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
good job, frank.
my only beef with this isthat there may have been some unnecessary verbiage...but what the hell. you went wide and rolled. good on you.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-09-11 14:42:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by kuroneko_sama (user info) at 2007-09-10 23:48:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
great stroy, took a bit to go through, but it would have been worse broken up into 2 or 3 parts.
so the story made the length worth it
Submitted by ramirez60 (user info) at 2007-09-10 22:53:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
A writers forum in true form. I thought some of the speech could have been more..natural? I dunno, I liked it though.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-09-10 13:54:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by DirtyHarry (user info) at 2007-09-10 13:42:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by DangerPants (user info) at 2007-09-10 12:28:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I wish there were more posts written like this.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2007-09-10 11:41:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
But whom killed him and why?
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-09-10 10:41:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by corn_nugget (user info) at 2007-09-10 10:40:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
But who closed up the room?
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-09-10 09:23:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good story and well-written, but as has been mentioned before, a little weak at the end.
Submitted by gravitas (user info) at 2007-09-10 08:30:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
nice read
Submitted by Surgeon (user info) at 2007-09-10 06:10:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
spinabifida..
Submitted by ShapeShifter (user info) at 2007-09-10 06:08:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
WTFINRAT
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2007-09-10 05:49:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
DOnt listen to RR, he couldnt write a shopping list.
Submitted by frankthebear (user info) at 2007-09-10 05:46:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by RabiedRooster (user info) at 2007-09-10 05:42:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great story and well written. I just wish the ending was different
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I hear ya, but I decided to quit while I was ahead
Submitted by RabiedRooster (user info) at 2007-09-10 05:42:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great story and well written. I just wish the ending was different
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2007-09-10 04:17:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
My eyes are too tired to read this but I remember Frank being nice to me when I first came here.
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2007-09-10 02:43:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I love this kinda thing..