The Little Vampire Read online

  The Little Vampire

  Angela Sommer-Bodenburg

  This book is for Burghardt Bodenburg, whose teeth are so brittle he could never turn into a vampire, as well as for Katja, who can shout

  “Eek! a vampire!” so beautifully – and for everyone who likes stories about vampires as much as I do.

  The main characters in this book

  Anton Bohnsack, called Tony Prasbody in this book, loves reading. He likes exciting stories about vampires and knows all about the way they live.

  Tony’s parents don’t really believe in vampires.

  His dad works at an office, his mum works as a teacher.

  Rüdiger von Schlotterstein, the little vampire, is called Rudolph Sackville-Bagg in the English version. He has been a vampire for at least 150 years. If you want to know how he and Tony became friends you best read this book!

  The other members of the Sackville-Bagg family Tony will meet in this story are:

  Anna the Toothless, who is Rudolph’s sister

  and Lumpi der Starke, in this book called Gruesome Gregory, who is Rudolph’s elder brother.

  Tony will hear creepy stories about other members of the clan. Just look at the names and try to figure out what they mean:

  Sabina the Sinister

  Frederick the Frightful

  Hildegard the Thirsty

  Nightwatchman Geiermeier, here called McRookery, chases vampires.

  (ǝɓıʇsɹnp ǝıp pɹɐɓǝplıH 'ǝɥɔılɹǝʇɥɔɹn̤Ⅎ ɹǝp ɓıʍpn˥ 'ǝɥɔılʞɔǝɹɥɔS ǝıp ǝuıqɐS)

  The Thing at the Window

  IT WAS A SATURDAY evening, the night when Tony’s parents always went out.

  “Where are you off to tonight, then?” Tony wanted to know that afternoon.

  His mother was in the bathroom, busy with her hair curlers.

  “Oh,” she said, “I expect we’ll have something to eat, and then perhaps go dancing.”

  “What do you mean, perhaps?” asked Tony.

  “Well, we haven’t decided yet,” explained his mother. “Is it that important for you to know?”

  “No-o,” mumbled Tony. He thought it was better not to tell her that he wanted to watch the thriller on television, which started at eleven o’clock. But it was too late: her suspicions were already aroused.

  “Tony,” she said sternly, and turned round so she could look him straight in the eye. “I hope you’re not planning to watch something on television.”

  “Oh, Mum,” protested Tony, “what on earth gives you that idea?” Luckily, his mother had turned back to her curlers, and so she did not see how red his face had gone.

  “We might even go to the cinema,” was all she said. “In any case, we shan’t be home before midnight.”

  So, now it was evening, and Tony was alone in the flat. He lay in bed in his pyjamas, with the sheet drawn up to his chin, reading The Truth About Frankenstein. The story was about a travelling show. A man in a flowing black cloak had just come on the stage to announce the appearance of the monster.

  Suddenly the alarm clock went off. Tony looked up from his book, frowning at the interruption. Crikey, eleven o’clock already! He just had time to switch on the television.

  Tony jumped out of bed and pressed the switch. Then he snuggled back beneath the covers and watched as the picture slowly took form on the screen. It was still only the Sports Programme. His room was shadowy and dim; King Kong glowered down from the poster on the wall, his sneer exactly suiting Tony’s mood. He felt wild and adventurous, as though he were the only survivor of a shipwreck, stranded on a South Sea island inhabited by cannibals. His bed was his hide-out, soft and warm, and whenever he wanted to, he could creep in there and be hidden from sight. A heap of provisions lay at the entrance of this den; in fact, the only thing missing was a keg of rum. Tony thought longingly of the bottle of apple juice in the fridge; the trouble was, in order to get it, he would have to cross the darkened hallway. Should he swim back to the ship, braving the blood-hungry sharks that were lying in wait for their prey? Tony shivered. But the fact remained that castaways more often died of thirst than of hunger!

  So, bravely, he set off. He hated the hallway; the light was permanently broken, and no one bothered to mend it. He hated the coats dangling in the closet, looking like corpses. And then there was the hare! He thought with horror of the stuffed animal in his mother’s workroom, even though he had enjoyed frightening other children with the thought of it. At last, he made it to the kitchen. He took the bottle of apple juice out of the fridge and sliced off a large chunk of cheese while he was about it. All the time he had half an ear cocked to the other room to make sure the thriller had not begun. He heard a woman’s voice announcing the start of the film. Tony tucked the bottle under his right arm and hurried back.

  However, he had not gone far, just into the hallway, when he noticed that something was not quite right. He stood still and listened ... and suddenly it dawned on him what was wrong: there was silence from the television! That could mean only one thing: Someone must have slipped into his room and turned it off! Tony could feel his heart miss a beat and then thud as if it had gone mad, and a strange lump seemed to move from his tummy to his throat and stick there. Terrible pictures appeared before his eyes, pictures of men with stocking masks, knives, and guns who broke into empty flats at night to steal, and who would allow no one to stand in their way. Tony remembered that the window had been left open, and a burglar could easily have climbed in over the next door balcony. All of a sudden there was a crash! The apple juice bottle had slipped from under Tony’s arm and had rolled across the hallway, coming to rest by the bedroom door. Tony held his breath and waited ... but nothing happened. Perhaps he was just imagining all this nonsense about burglars. But if that were the case, why had the television stopped?

  He picked up the bottle and inched open his bedroom door. The first thing he noticed was an extraordinary smell, musty and mouldering like something in the cellar, but like burning as well. Was it coming from the television set? Tony quickly pulled the plug out from the wall. Perhaps the flex was smouldering.

  Then Tony heard a strange rattling, which seemed to come from the window. He thought he could make out a shadow behind the curtain, outlined against the bright moonlight. Very slowly, with knees knocking, he forced himself nearer. The strange smell grew stronger, as if someone had been burning a whole box of matches. The rattling was getting louder too. Suddenly Tony stood rooted to the spot. On the window-sill, in front of the blinds, which were moving gently in the night breeze, a Thing was sitting watching him. Tony thought he would faint with horror. Two small, bloodshot eyes gleamed at him from a deathly pale face framed by tangl­ed hair, which hung in tendrils down to a grubby, black cloak. The figure opened and closed its gaping mouth, grinding its teeth in a most terrifying manner, and Tony noticed that these teeth were extremely white, and pointed like daggers. Tony’s hair stood on end, and his heart practically stopped beating! The Thing at the window was worse than King Kong, worse than Frankenstein, worse than Dracula even! It was the most hairraising apparition, Tony had ever seen!

  The Thing seemed to enjoy seeing Tony frightened out of his wits, because it drew its enormous mouth back into a dreadful grin to reveal its needle-sharp, widely spaced teeth more clearly. “A vampire!” gulped Tony.

  And the Thing answered in a voice that seemed to come from the bowels of the earth: “But of course I’m a vampire!” It sprang into the room and stood firmly in front of the door. “Are you afraid?” it asked.

  Tony could not make a sound.

  “You’re a bit skinny – not much flesh on you, I’ll bet.” The vampire looked him up and down. “Where are your parents?”

  “I-in the
cinema,” stammered Tony.

  “Aha. Now, let’s see. Is your father a healthy fellow? Would his blood be ... er, tasty?” The vampire giggled, and its teeth glistened in the moonlight. “As I’m sure you are aware, we vampires live on blood!”

  “I-I have very b-bad blood,” stuttered Tony hastily. “I-I have to t-take pills for it.”

  “Poor you,” said the vampire nastily, taking a step nearer.

  “Don’t touch me!” shrieked Tony, attempting to duck. All he managed to do was to knock the end of his bed, and a bag of jelly babies tumbled off onto the floor, the contents spilling out onto the carpet.

  The vampire laughed with a rumble that sounded like a peal of thunder. “Well, well! Jelly babies!” It looked almost human. “I used to have these,” it mused. “Grandma used to give them to me.”

  It put a jelly baby into its mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Then all of a sudden it spat it out and began to choke and cough, swearing furiously as it did so. Tony took the opportunity of hiding behind his desk, but the vampire was so shaky after its coughing fit that it collapsed onto the bed, and for several minutes did not move. Then it pulled out a large, blood-spotted handkerchief from under its cloak, and blew its nose long and hard.

  “That could only happen to me,” it grumbled. “My mother did warn me.”

  “Warned you about what?” inquired Tony curiously. He felt much more confident from his position behind the desk.

  The vampire glanced furiously across at him.

  “Vampires have very sensitive stomachs, stupid. Sweets are like poison for us.”

  Tony felt quite sorry for him. “Would you like some apple juice instead?” he asked.

  The vampire gave a blood-curdling cry. “What are you trying to do? Make me sick?” he yelled.

  “I’m sorry,” said Tony. “I was only trying to help.”

  “That’s all right.” Apparently, the vampire had not taken offense.

  In fact, thought Tony, it’s a very nice vampire, in spite of its looks. Tony had always imagined vampires to be much worse.

  “Are you old?” he asked.

  “As old as the hills,” came the reply.

  “But you’re much smaller than me.”

  “So? I was just a kid when I died.”

  “Oh, I see.” Tony had not thought of that. “And are you still ... I mean, do you have a tomb?”

  The vampire grinned. “You could come and visit me if you like. But only after dark. We sleep during the daytime.”

  “I know,” said Tony. At last, here was an opportunity to show off how much he knew about vampires. “If vampires come into contact with sunlight, they die. So they have to hurry through their night’s business in order to be back in their tombs by sunrise.”

  “What a clever fellow,” sneered the vampire maliciously.

  “And if you discover the grave of a vampire,” continued Tony, warming to his account, “you have to drive a wooden stake through its heart.”

  It would have been better not to have said this, because the vampire uttered a chilling growl and sprang at Tony. But Tony was too quick. He shot out from under the desk and made for the door with the enraged vampire hard on his heels. Just before he reached the door, the vampire caught him. This is it, thought Tony. He’s going to bite. But the vampire just stood panting in front of him, its eyes glowing like hot embers and gnashing its teeth – click-clack, click-clack. It took Tony by the shoulders and shook him. “If you ever start on again about wooden stakes, it’ll be curtains for you! Understand?”

  “Y-yes,” stammered Tony. “I-I really didn’t mean to get at you.”

  “Sit down!” barked the vampire. Tony obeyed. The vampire began to pace up and down the room.

  “What am I going to do with you now?” it asked.

  “We could listen to records,” suggested Tony.

  “No!” shouted the vampire.

  “Or play snakes and ladders?”

  “No!”

  “Or I could show you my postcard collection?”

  “No, no, no!”

  “Well, I don’t know what we can do then,” said Tony, giving up.

  The vampire had paused in front of the poster of King Kong. “Not that ape!” it yelled, and ripped the poster off the wall, and tore it into shreds.

  “That’s not very polite,” protested Tony. “That was my favourite poster!”

  “So what?” hissed the vampire. By now, it had discovered all the King Kong books on Tony’s bookshelf, and page after page fluttered down onto Tony’s bed.

  “My books!” howled Tony. “I bought them all with my pocket money!”

  Suddenly the vampire paused, a happy smile on its lips. “Dracula,” it breathed. “My favourite book.” It looked at Tony with shining eyes. “Can I borrow it?”

  “Do. But promise to bring it back, O.K.?”

  “Of course.” It stuck the book contentedly beneath its cloak. “By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Tony. What’s yours?”

  “Rudolph.”

  “Rudolph?” Tony nearly burst out laughing, but luckily stopped himself in time. He didn’t want to get the vampire stirred up again! “That’s a very nice name.”

  The vampire seemed flattered. “Tony’s a nice name too,” he said.

  “I don’t think so,” said Tony. “But my father’s called Tony too, you see?”

  “Oh.”

  “And my grandfather before him. As if that made any difference to me.”

  “Up till now, I had thought Rudolph was a pretty stupid name,” said the vampire, “but you get used to it.”

  “Uh-huh, you get used to it,” sighed Tony.

  “Hey, are you often all by yourself like this at home?” the vampire inquired.

  “Every Saturday.”

  “Don’t you get scared?”

  “Sure. Sometimes.”

  “Me, too,” agreed the vampire. “Especially in the dark. My father always says: ‘Rudolph, you’re not a proper vampire. You’re a coward.’”

  They both laughed. “Is your dad a vampire too?” asked Tony.

  “Of course,” said the vampire. “What did you think?”

  “Your mum as well?”

  “Yes. And my sister and my brother and my grandma and grandpa and my aunt and uncle ...”

  “My family is boring and normal,” said Tony sadly. “My dad works at the office and my mom’s a teacher. I haven’t got any brothers or sisters. It’s all very dull.”

  The vampire looked at him sympathetically. “There’s always something happening with us.”

  “Like what? Oh, do tell me!” At last here was a chance to hear a real vampire story.

  “Well,” began the vampire, “last winter, for instance. You remember how cold it was? When we woke up one day, the sun had already set. I was starving hungry, but when I tried to open the lid of my coffin, I couldn’t! I drummed on it with my fists, I kicked at it with my feet – but it was no good. I could hear all the rest of the fam­ily doing the same thing, all around in the vault. And do you know what? For two nights we were iced in and couldn’t get our coffins open. Finally it began to thaw, and we just managed it with the last of our strength. We nearly died of starvation. But even that’s nothing compared to what happened with the new Nightwatchman at the cemetery. Would you like to hear about that, too?”

  “You bet!”

  “Well, it was on a ...” began the vampire, but suddenly he broke off. “Can you hear anything?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” said Tony. A car drew up and stopped. Its doors slammed. “My parents!” cried Tony.

  With a bound, the vampire was on the window-sill. “My book?” called Tony. “When ...?”

  But the vampire had already spread his cloak and was gliding away, a dark shadow before the pale crescent of the moon.

  Quickly Tony closed the blinds and crept into bed. He heard the front door of the flat open and his father say: “You see, Hilary? Everything’s quiet.”

&n
bsp; Seconds later he was fast asleep.

  Parents Know Best

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK about vampires?” asked Tony as he sat at the breakfast table and smeared honey on his toast. Although he looked as if he was only interested in his toast, in fact he was watching his parents’ faces very carefully. First, they exchanged surprised glances, and then began to smile. They’re not taking me seriously, thought Tony. They think I’m just being childish. If only they knew.

  “Vampires?” asked his mother, hiding a smile. “What on earth made you think of them?”

  “Well,” said Tony, “they used to exist in the olden days.”

  “In the olden days,” mimicked his father, “people used to believe in the weirdest things. Witches, for instance.”

  “Witches!”, retorted Tony scornfully.

  “And dwarfs, and ghosts and fairies ...” added his mother.

  “Haven’t you forgotten Father Christmas?” said Tony furiously, and stirred his hot cocoa so violently that it slopped out of his mug and onto the table cloth. “But I’ll tell you something: vampires are a totally different kettle of fish!”

  “Really?” asked his father sarcastically.

  “Yes,” returned Tony. “And anyone who thinks that vampires only exist in books –” (“Or at Halloween parties,” giggled his mother) “– is either deaf and blind,” continued Tony in a slightly louder voice, then paused and finished on a soft, mysterious note, “or very, very stupid.”

  “Oh, dear, you’re making me terribly nervous!”, laughed his mother.

  “It does seem strange that you and I have never seen one, dear, doesn’t it?” smiled his father to her.

  “Aha!” said Tony with satisfaction. “That might happen sooner than you think!”

  “Help!” said his mother, pretending to be scared.

  “You’ll see,” said Tony, and crammed the rest of his toast into his mouth.

  “All I can see is that my cup is empty,” smiled his ­mother. “Pour me out some more tea, would you, dear?”