The New Neighbor

Chapter 1

Maverick went home on a perfectly normal day. He was exhausted and hungry, which was normal. It was dark in his apartment complex which wasn't as abnormal as people would suggest with the way his landowners were. His hands were full, which made it extremely difficult to unlock his door, which was more normal than Maverick would like. Once he had made his way into his apartment, he dropped his belongings onto the couch, most of which falling off immediately for him to trip over later. He walked over to the small kitchen-area of his two room apartment and made himself a cup of coffee. He burnt his tongue as he normally does forgetting how hot boiling water normally is.

His doorbell rang, which was more normal than not, and when he opened it expected some religious missionary which in all honesty wouldn't be very normal at this time of night.

The person on the other side looked normal in all respects. He had a white button up dress shirt on with a jet black tie and was wearing black dress pants. His raven hair was neatly combed and parted and there was a silver pendent hanging from his neck. It looked old, most likely a family heirloom of some sort. There was a portrait of a woman engraved in the metal and some sort of writing, though Maverick couldn't make it out without looking like an oddball. Unlike other normal missionaries, though, he didn't have a leather bound bible and he was alone.

"Good evening," the man said strangely happily. His voice was calm and Maverick couldn't help but notice how white his teeth were. "I just moved in next door today and wanted to introduce myself."

Maverick peeked around his door, down the hall to where the man was gesturing to and noticed piles of boxes that he had presumably tripped over numerous time throughout the day but had failed to take notice because of his normal routine of self- and world-loathing.

"Ah," he said simply, wanting to take a sip of his coffee but knew it would burn him again. "Well it's nice to have you here with us. I'm Maverick." He moved his cup to his left hand and extended his right hand to the man.

"It's nice to meet you." The man took Maverick's in a gentlemanly handshake. His hands felt fairly cool, but then again he had previously been holding scolding hot coffee. "I am Cyril and I am a vampire."

Maverick was confused. This was certainly not normal. What was even stranger was that a vampire would not have normally bluntly stated that he was one, had Maverick been an expert on supernatural behaviors, which he wasn't. So all these assumptions were simply replaced with confusion.

Maverick found himself laughing. He himself wasn't quite sure why he was laughing or if there was anything funny about it. Maybe the reason he didn't understand how to react was because it wasn't normal. He was supposed to go home after work, fall over a few unidentifiable objects in his apartment while looking for the lights, make himself some coffee and dinner, watch some old movie on TV before taking his meds and went to sleep to do the same thing over again. In which case he had prepared a witty lineup of reactions to everything he did. For instance, when he tripped he would be angry and frustrated at himself. When he made coffee he would feel relaxed. And when he feel asleep he would loathe himself, subliminally reminding him to take his anti-depressants. But having a man at his door saying he was a vampire did not register in Maverick's reaction database, and as a panic response, he laughed. However, his companion had compiled a completely different line of reactions based not on what happened but instead of why they happened. When he came across a new situation he didn't respond with panic but instead with inquisition as to why the situation had happened. Obviously enough, the situation he was currently in, which was having a man laugh at him after he had told him he was a vampire, was not a situation he had prepared himself for. So, instead of laughing like a maniac like the man in front of him, he gave him a very questioning look.

"You don't believe me," the man who had introduced himself as Cyril stated more than asked.

And it wasn't that Maverick didn't believe him, it was that he didn't know how to believe him. This kind of thing didn't happen to a man like him.

"I don't understand," Maverick said, trying to compose himself. "If you're a vampire, aren't you supposed to be sucking my blood or trying to turn me into a vampire like you?"

"I could but that wouldn't be very polite, would it," Cyril said matter-of-factually.

"No it wouldn't," the man realized. "But wouldn't you do it anyway?"

"Even if I wanted to, as long as you're there and I'm here I couldn't do anything."

Maverick looked very confused for a moment and wondered what the other man was talking about.

"I can't cross over you're threshold without permission," Cyril informed him.

"Oh, of course," Maverick said. He had known that fact somewhere in his head but didn't know from where. "But if you were a vampire, why would you tell me about it? Or anyone for that matter? Isn't it supposed to be a secret?"

"Not necessarily. And I've been asleep for the past 200 years,"

"But if you were a vampire, why would you tell me about it? Or anyone for that matter? Isn't it supposed to be a secret?"

"Not necessarily. And I've been asleep for the past 200 years, and I need someone to help me around in this new world."

"Me?"

"You look like a completely respectable man," Cyril stated.

"And the man that rented out your apartment didn't?"

"Actually, no."

"Fair enough," Maverick said, taking a sip of his coffee which had cooled off slightly. He couldn't understand why he actually did believe the man, but he did. He ran through his mind trying to figure out what he was going to do; should he continue this conversation in the hallway, he would find himself at risk of a vampire hunter of sorts, which he had no problem believing with the vampire standing in front of him, but if he brought him inside he would be at risk of being killed or turned into a vampire. The thought of which didn't trouble as it should have which is what really troubled him. He found himself walking back into his apartment and inviting the other man in. He cleared some of the junk off of his couch and offered Cyril a seat. He wheeled his computer chair over to the living area of his apartment and sat a fair distance from his guest.

"So, a vampire?"

Cyril nodded.

"And you think I'm the best person to come to to tell you about the new world?"

"Yes. You looked to have a lot on your hands when you first came home, which leads me to believe you are a very busy, likewise important, person."

"I wish that were the case."

Cyril looked confused. "That's the way it works doesn't it? If your busy than you're doing a lot for one person or a group, deeming yourself important, if only to them."

"I think the only person who deems me important is my mother and even she's questionable."

"I don't understand," Cyril commented, trying to understand.

"I think the world's changed a bit since you were last awake. I'm a secretary. The only importance I am to someone is to verify their schedule assuming they aren't smart enough to verify their own schedule."

"That can still be pretty important."

Maverick couldn't respond. He just drank his coffee, not caring if his guest would pick him as a tour guide or leave. "If I was important I wouldn't be living in a two room apartment."

"If you weren't important you wouldn't be alive."

Maverick considered this for a moment before finishing his coffee. "So you still want me to show you around?"

"I am confident in my choice, yes," Cyril responded.

"Fine. But tomorrow. It's far too late now." He paused briefly and considered his words. "Late for me, anyway."

"Very well." Cyril stood. "I shall see you again tomorrow night."

"Yea."

"Goodbye Maverick, and thank you."

"No problem," Maverick responded, as it was the only thing that came that seemed somewhat polite. He waved uncertainly as his guest left. He had no idea what he was doing, but assumed he should probably take his medication before anything stranger happened.



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I honestly have no idea where this is going, or what the purpose is. I've been suffering writer's block and used a prompt from Writing.com and this happened. If you like it and would want me to continue, just shoot me an email and let me know. Ratings are gladly appreciated, as are reviews explaining why you rated the way you did. Thank you for reading.