Every Sixteen Years

EVERY SIXTEEN YEARS

“Hello little girl.” The man in the black suit commented to the child sitting next to him.
The little girl was only five years old. She had shoulder length light brown hair, and amber colored eyes. She was wearing a pink dress, that covered just above her knees, and a silver chain necklace with a light pink butterfly dangling from it. She was sitting on a bench in the park, swinging her legs back and forth, waiting patiently for her mother to come out of the bathroom.
“Hi.” she responded in her sweet little kid voice.
“What’s your name?” the man asked.
“Sarah,” the small girl replied, “What’s yours?”
“I am Mr. Smith.”
“Hello Mr. Smith.”
“What are you doing out here all alone on this fine summer afternoon? Why are you not playing on the playground?”
“My mommy’s going to take me home to get dinner now, but she had to go to the bathroom. So she told me to sit here and wait for her.”
“Well, I have some candy in my car if you would like some.”
“Yeah?” she exclaimed, almost jumping up, “What kind?”
“All kinds. What’s your favorite candy?”
“I like skittles.”
“Well, I have all kinds of skittles in my car. Would you like to come and get some?”
“My mommy said I had to stay right here.” “We’ll only be gone for a second, and my car’s just right there.”The man insisted, pointing to an unmarked white van.
“Oh, okay.” Sarah replied, briskly rising from her seat on the bench.
The young Sarah fallowed the man to his van. As he opened the side door, the smell of smoke and sulfur poured out into the world. Sarah thought of the sweet smelling perfume her mother wore, and wished the man would spray some in his van. No candy was visible inside—just empty seats.
“Where’s the candy?” she asked.
“It must have fallen under the seats. Why don’t you hop in and look?”
The man known as Mr. Smith hoisted the small girl into the van. Getting on her hands and knees, Sarah looked around, only to find nothing.
“I don’t see anything.” she responded.
Her head jerked up to the sound of a door slamming, and she saw that the van door had been closed. Panicking, she clasped the handle and started jiggling it, trying to force it open, but the door was locked.
“Mommy!” She cried as she looked out the tinted window at the woman who had just emerged from the bathroom doors, and was looking around frantically for her lost child.
Mr. Smith opened the drivers side door.
“Mr. Smith.” Sarah chimed, “The door’s locked. Can you come open it for me?”
“I’m sorry dear child. I can’t do that.” Mr. Smith responded, as he turned the keys in the ignition, firing up the van, “Say goodbye to mummy now. We’re going on a drive.”
An hour past. Sarah’s screaming and crying proved unsuccessful as the van pulled down a dirt road to an abandoned factory.
“Welcome to your new home, Sarah.” Mr. Smith sneered as he turned his head to look at the petrified girl.
His once brown eyes now blazed orange in flame, and two long fangs had grown from his mouth, until they looked exactly like the vampire teeth Sarah’s older brother had bought for Halloween last year. Only these teeth were real, and Mr. Smith was far worse then a regular vampire.
“It’s too bad you’ll never be able to see the inside---alive.”
Mr. Smith lunged for the girl. Her screams haunted the night for only the time of thirty seconds, before a dead silence filled the air.





Twenty-four year old James Foster stood in front of the abandoned factory that young Sarah Barker had been brutally murdered by the night before. His short brown hair, laid flat on his head. He wore a white button up shirt, a navy blue tie, black pants, and a black coat. His hands where in his coat pocket and his blue eyes were surveying the scene.
He was an agent of the FBI and he was sent to solve this case. A pattern had arose in the small town of Pandoma, Indiana, one that involved disappearances of children. The streak only lasted three days—or however long the full moon stayed in August— and it only came every sixteen years.
A chilly wind breezed past him, and he shuddered. This place was evil—he could feel it. There was something dark looming over this place. James wanted to be the one that figured out what it was.
A glint of silver caught James’ eye. He knelt down, brushed away some dirt, and revealed a silver chained necklace with a light pink butterfly. He picked it up, stared at it for a moment, and then walked to his car.




The second night of the full moon of August, rested upon the grief-stricken family of Sarah Barker. Mr. and Mrs. Barker only had two children. Matthew, who was seven, and the deceased Sarah.
Matthew lay in his bed, trying to understand the concept of death, and wondering what life would be like without Sarah. A tapping sound started at the window...
At first Matthew paid no attention to it, but the tapping continued, and Matthew rose from his bed. His eyes widened when he opened the blinds, and saw a floating man in a black suit.
“Come out here Matt. Come out and play.” the man hissed.
Matthew opened his mouth to scream, but no sound escaped him. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and his eyes where fixed on the bloodstained vampire fangs, gleaming in the light of the moon.
“Your sister’s out here Matt-ie boy; let me in and I’ll show you.”
“Sarah?”Matt whispered.
“Yes, Sarah. Open the window Matt. So she can get in. I’m just bringing her home.”
The young mind is often manipulated by those older, and as for the innocent Matthew Barker, he believed the floating man, and opened the window; sealing his doom.
Who knows why there was no screen on the window—all little boys should have one.
Matthew’s short lived screams awakened his parents who rushed to their sons aid, only to find him laying on the ground—blood trickling from his neck—and the window wide open, and a bone-chilling breeze pouring into the room.
Mr. Barker went to the window, and saw nothing but the sullen bushes below. Mrs. Barker kneeled next to her dead son, and cradled his head in her lap. She was entranced by the two holes in his neck—teeth marks. She mourned over her lost children, while bathing in the questions of the supernatural.
Matthew suddenly shot up. He breathed in the chilly summer air for the first time as a vampire. His eyes had turned a solid black. The rush of relief given to the parents of the boy when he first awoke, was now substituted with sheer terror, as Matthew grew vampire fangs, and a luscious expression on his face.
He lunged for his mother, tackling her to the ground; trying to sink his teeth into her neck, and suck out the blood, until she became as thirsty as he was. Mr. Barker, realizing that Matthew was dead—a vampire, a creature on the night—threw the possessed boy off of his horrified wife.
Matthew snarled, but retreated out the window, floating just as the man in the black suit had done moments before......




Though the story sounded utterly insane, James believed every word. He had been very superstitious after an incident he had as a young boy. Similar to Matthew’s, except James didn’t let the man in. Mr. and Mrs. Barker wanted to find justice for their son, and their daughter. James promised them that he would not let the vampires escape, not this time.
James drove to the library. Vampire books---he needed vampire books. The items he would need would be in them, and he needed to know how to defeat the monsters. Wooden stakes, holy water, garlic, a cross; he could break a piece of wood off the fence around his garden, holy water could be received at the Catholic church down the road, a cross there too. Garlic at the store.
He loaded up his supplies and drove to the abandoned factory. Night descended upon him, and James realized he had not considered time as an issue before now. Still he continued, the sound of his footsteps fell on the dirt, and he reached the entrance.
He took a deep breath, and twisted the doorknob. Locked. He knocked down the door with one swift kick. It was old, very old. Everything here was. An aroma of sulfur filled the air around him, and he stepped in.
Electricity didn’t work, James noticed as he flipped the light switch and got no result. He reached into the red backpack that he decided would carry his supplies, and grabbed a flashlight. He switched the light on, and looked around.
Cobwebs were everywhere. Dust had formed in every inch, and every corner of the building. It was bare, the gloomy cemented walls, floors, and ceilings beckoned him to leave. Evil was all around. James fumbled for the cross. He hung it around his neck, and poised the wooden stake in his hand—ready for anything.
A swift movement in the corner, caused James to panic. He flashed the light around, but saw nothing. His footfalls fell upon the concrete floor, and made an hollow echo.
Another movement behind him—James swung around. His hands trembling, his eyes dodging past every aspect of the structure.
“Help me.” A little girls voice echoed through the barren structure.
James, turned to where the sound had come from, and started walking toward it.
“Hello?” He cried into the darkness.
“Help me.” the little girl wept.
James saw the figure of the little girl, and dropped the wooden stake, forgetting the reason he had brought it. He started ran toward the girl, and got caught on a jut of wood. He shook free, and reached her side
“Are you o....” James started as Sarah Barker turned to face him hissing.
The five-year-old vampire jumped at the twenty four year old man. He reached for his cross, but realized it was gone. She pinned him to the ground with unknown strength, and James saw his necklace with the cross on it hanging from the wood sticking out.
The little vampire grew fangs, and James filled with terror. He knew that he no longer had his backpack with him; he had lost it in the run to the small girl, and he remembered dropping the stake.
Kicking off the little girl, he got up to run, but was stopped by the head vampire, also known as Mr. Smith.
“Where do you think you are going James.” he replied in a cruel voice.
James fumbled backward, tripping over himself.
“You remember me don’t you?” Mr. Smith hissed, “I told you I’d come back for you, and now I have James.”
James made a squealing sound, for he was unable to scream. He crawled in a backwards trail, terrified.
“Nighty night James.” Mr. Smith lunged for the FBI agent, and sunk his teeth into his neck.



The next day, Mr. and Mrs. Barker where reported missing, along with five other children. The police never could find who was the blame for this. And they wouldn't have another chance, until the sixteen years were up.