There are things that must definitely be extinguished as the flame of a candle is extinguished. No continuations, nothing perpetual. Simple and pure end.

I say this specifically for the Mc Millers, they represent that fraction of humanity that no one would miss. There is something definitely wrong with that family and no; not that I wish them any ill will, I just assume what I think of them and unlike everyone else in town I am not afraid to express it.

Their property is one of the largest and most sumptuous in town but at the same time the most dismal, it stretches from the red hill ( it is so known because in summer it usually catches fire and at night in the distance it looks red) to the forest and further to the west, to the outskirts of town. A large house, which long ago must have been majestic, crowns the property. With rickety walls and closed windows, the house misses the lushness of its younger years, yet it still has some of the manor of yesteryear.

In my own research I have discovered that the Mc Miller's were never a large family and although they have maintained the property for the last 150 years, at least, I have not been able to get anyone in town to refer or remember any social event or claim to have been a regular visitor to that property. Everyone knows that the service staff was foreign and that all their provisions were procured from outside the town.

The truth is that only old man Miller and his granddaughter, Miss Charlotte, are now known to live there and all the servants have been reduced to a single butler who can be seen some evenings tidying up the plants in the front garden. As for Miss Charlotte some claim to have seen her at night on the main balcony abandoned on the railing and the old man is only waiting for the news of his death.

Thus the days pass in the town, they creep slowly, they pile up in weeks and months and in the most overwhelming way they seem not to pass. I cope by researching the Miller's and their peculiar way of life.

A couple of weeks ago I made an exploration of their property near the red hill, before reaching the forest; I found there a small mausoleum just as dilapidated as the main house, I imagined that there among the remains of the ancestors of the Mc Miller I would find some answers to their strange behavior, but after forcing the entrance I discovered that no Mc Miller ancestor was lying inside. Why on earth would they build a mausoleum not to use it and even more disturbing; what were they doing with their deceased. All these questions echoed in my mind until that night when suddenly most of them began to be answered.

It was late that night as I was researching in the ecclesiastical archives for baptismal records, I was thrilled to find what I considered a clue to the origin of the Miller family. When I left it was about 11 pm, I closed my jacket and started my way home, about twenty meters later I began to hear a loud fluttering high above me but the darkness of the night did not allow me to see anything. I felt a rush of fear run through my whole body, I turned towards the church and as a survival instinct I ran back to seek sacred protection. I felt a strong pressure on my back and I knew no more about me.

How much time passed I don't know, my blurred vision was clearing until the contours began to look familiar, I was in the mausoleum of the Mc Miller family. I sat up as best I could and as I rubbed the back of my neck I saw him. There stood the old man Miller himself, a decrepit presence dressed in black linen, as he seemed to shuffle his steps a tremendous laugh escaped from him just as he lifted the heavy granite slab with one hand to seal the sarcophagus where Miss Charlotte lay in a yellow dress.

I felt the whole scene hallucinate until with a voice that seemed to come from the old man and from everywhere at the same time he said to me:

_ Hello Rubens, you must excuse my manners, but I'm afraid it was not possible to do otherwise. I am quite sure you would not have accepted an invitation even though we know you have been here before. We also know that you have been checking us out and that is exactly why I have chosen you.

_ Have you chosen me? I managed to ask with the little voice I was able to muster.

_Yes Rubens, among all the inhabitants of the village only you have the intuition of what we are, your curiosity has brought you here and has made you worthy of my inheritance.

My eyes seemed to jump out of their sockets as I listened to all this while my fearful interlocutor continued.

_You will be the owner of all my property which includes this mausoleum, your only responsibility in return is to guard our lethargy, when the time comes to wake up we will simply go somewhere else.

He said pointing with his shining eyes to some documents that rested on a small table.

After that sudden revelation that hit me like a brick in the head I managed to babble again

_Owner? Lethargy? Are you guys some kind of..

And without letting me finish the sentence, old Mc Miller said as he closed the heavy granite slab on himself.

_Don't be stupid Rubens, vampires don't exist.

The End

---

With this little story I join the Pront of the week! What do you think Rubens should do with his unexpected inheritance? I'll read you in the comments. See you in another page turn!!

---

Original story by @joalheal created for The ink well community in their weekly Pront. This week: Inheritance.
Image from Pixabay

---

---