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“Look, look, what a cute kitten!”
“Of course, Lenore. Couldn’t be cuter.”
Another dead cat. It was too much, even for the vampire: Ragamuffin struggles to hold back and not throw away all of the dozens, maybe hundreds of half-rotten bodies from the mansion, on a beautiful day. How does one little girl manage to kill so much?
“Look, I did it by myself! Beautiful?”
“Yes, very much. You're doing great, Lenore.”
Sky, house, people. The drawings of an ordinary child, except that everything here were in red shades. The sight and odor was screaming with all its appearance that this masterpiece was drawn not with gouache, but with blood.
Where does she find it? What does Ragamuffin miss again?
“Let’s go on a show! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
“All right, Lenore.”
The main thing was to not lose the girl. Do not lose the moment when she will have stretched her hands to the next innocent person. To the next toy that is about to break.
“Ragamuffin, fix it!”
“I can’t, sweetheart.”
Tonight, the cemetery of a small town will reopen its gates again, allowing in a new dweller. Covered in dirt, tired as a dog, the vampire will return to the mansion in the early morning and will throw the shovel aside, cursing this blonde little thing.
And Lenore greets him at the door.
“Read me a story!”
The girl was waiting all this time for him to come. She was waiting almost until dawn.
An involuntary grin creeps onto his face. And what's next?
But Lenore yawns, rubbing her faded eyes: tiredness takes its toll. She's only just a child.
He’s grabbing her and carrying her to the second floor in the children’s room, jumping two steps at a time. With a run, he throws the girl on the bed and she starts laughing.
“Well, what do you want me to read?” Ragamuffin sits down on the chair next to bed.
Little pale hands take out an old edition of "Beauty and the Beast" from under the pillow. How symbolic.
Ragamuffin begins to read. Aloud, with enthusiasm and expression, so that the fairy tale instantly comes to life in the imagination of the girl. Beautiful castles, white-maned horses, lush dresses.
At least something that doesn’t relate to death.
But in the middle of the book Lenore is already nodding off and so the vampire carefully adjusting the blanket, now willing to leave the room. He was stopped in the door frame only for a second to extinguish the candle, and he heard a soft whisper:
“Ragamuffin, is it good or bad to speak from the heart?”
“Good.” the man responds uncertainly.
“Then,” she continued. “Thank you.”
A nod. An embarrassed smile.
But Lenore is just a little girl. Albeit dead.
She needs the help of adults just like all children do. This is the reason why Ragamuffin is still here.
The first rays of sun make their way through the curtains.