The Girl on the Bench in the Rain

By Konrad Winters

"The Girl on the Bench in the Rain" by K. Winters
Is a story about a type of vampire,
And it’s a story about trust.
But most of all,
It’s a story about love.

I've often found a level of disappointment in classical literature labeled as gothic horror in that all the main characters are doomed from the beginning. The reader knows they are going to die. If fact, they are already dead, or un-dead. And yet they were once human, they once loved, but they succumbed to a overwhelming desire for power over others. And that consumed them. In my world, I wanted to explore the myth from a more human perspective, and thus I discovered an old world term 'Dhampir', or half-breed. It was also a way to indirectly explore issues that complicate life today, in modern America: ethnic mixing. I only scratch the surface but it still intrigues me.

The Dhampir in the story (an ancient Romanian word for a vampire halfling) is a kinder and gentler version of the traditional vampire character, yet still capable of extraordinary feats of strength and agility. The Dhampir is less the monster found in classic literature and more human, of which all of them are, mostly. This conceptual change emphasizes the human qualities of the vampire myth with all the frailties and foibles that are associated with being human. Yes, it's a book about vampires. But I wanted to offer a new spin to the age-old vampire myth and explore the romance and adventure of this experience from a human perspective.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Konrad Winters
• Release date: May 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370519606

Konrad Winters

K. WINTERS is a writer, playwright, artist, teacher, and designer who spends his days teaching in Virginia. He spends his evenings with his family, and his weekends writing, a rediscovered passion. A recent novel, "Vampire in Love", is a book that continues to put his unique spin on the age-old vampire myth, was published in May 2014 here at Smashwords.com His most recent addition is the book The First Bite, a sequel to Vampire in Love continuing on with Naomi's cousin and her husband Jacob His website in support of his writing can be found at http://konradwinters.weebly.com Coming Soon: "KISMET" Part Three of the Vampire in Love series, it explores the human side of the age-old vampire myth; with all the faults and uncertainties that being human encompasses. Zoe Erduran, a ‘dhampir’ - the ancient Romanian word for vampire half-breed - is discovered in a dark alley, having just captured a would-be rapist. Tristan Walker, her observer, turns out to be Zoe’s childhood friend, long since forgotten. Mix magic and ancient relics with paranormal romance and you come close to Kismet, the Arabic or Turkish word for “meant to be.” Fiction work by K. Winters: "The Girl on the Bench in the Rain" "Vampire+Love" "The First Bite"

Book preview

The Girl on the Bench in the Rain

A Dhampir Romance

by K. Winters

Published in 2015 by Buckhorn Publishing

Norfolk, Virginia

Copyright © 2014 Konrad Winters - All rights reserved. 



All the places and characters in this book have no existence outside of the imagination of the author and have no relationship whatsoever to anyone or any place bearing the same name or names. All incidents are purely fiction and the resemblance to any person, place, or thing is purely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-13705196-06

Here’s what others have said about this book:

Alex Crenshaw wrote on Oct. 22, 2014:

This is not 'just another vampire tale', it is so very much more!
It is a wonderfully told, beautiful tale of the building romance between human and dhampir. The character work is exemplary as they grow together as their romance builds. A new and very entertaining twist on some of the mythical drives behind the vampire/dhampir needs to survive. The detail work is so well done; the reader is soon richly engulfed in the intricate plot, the twists, and the explained wants and needs of both the dhampir and the human. This story shows there is a way not only for the two coexist, but to live together in a harmonious, loving relationship. A wonderful read that I highly recommend.

Joscelyn Anne Hayes wrote on April 21, 2014:


A beautifully romantic take on the ancient dhampir myths that come out of the bloody world of the vampire. Shows the delicate interaction between human and vampire or dhampir and explains it beyond the simple 'harvesting' takes that so many stories fall back on. This story explains the need for blood, or the 'hunt', and how humans are given moral lessons for their life sustaining blood. But it also shows the desperate need of the dhampir to find human love and relationships to allow their continued existence. Incredibly well done story of the vampire mythology.

To Angela

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A special thank you to

Debra, Julie, and Margaret.

Your support is beyond value.

A DREAM…

Suddenly, falling, helplessly falling. Falling through clouds, falling through air; falling from the sky. There was a jolt to the senses as he hit the water and plunged deep into the abyss. In the depth, the darkness surrounded him. His lungs felt like they would burst if he didn’t find air.

His feet touched the sand and slowly he emerged from the water. He walked against the tide towards the shore. The island was small, merely a sand bar surrounded by the ocean. Beyond, a thin ribbon of yellow sand beckoned him; perhaps a shore. The waves gently lapped against the narrow strip of sand as he turned to look back on the vastness of the ocean, shrouded in mist.

Then, slowly, a woman emerged from the mist and moved silently to him. The mist continued to obscure her features, but he was sure that she was a woman; the beauty of her form was unmistakable. She stood alone in the water…

…Waiting.

THE GIRL ON THE BENCH IN THE RAIN

Alex Scott woke up with a gasp as if he was struggling to breathe. He pulled the bed covers from his head and yanked at the sheet that had wound itself around his neck.

Damn, that’s three times in three days. Stupid dream.

He looked at his watch and realized that it was four in the morning and it was Tuesday. The gentle patter of rain on the windowsill melded with the only other sound in the room; the tick-tock of the alarm clock on the side table near his closet.

He remembered that his wife put it there when they were first married since he loved the ‘snooze button’. He was always late to work because of it. Once again he thought of Teresa and the emptiness returned.

He gazed across his bed as if expecting to see his wife lying there for what seemed like the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time his hope that the whole thing was a bad dream melted into silence.

A bad dream that began with a phone call, followed by a rainy night, a drunken driver, and broken glass strewn across the highway. Now, nearly a year later, Alex looked to that side of the bed when he woke up each morning. And each morning he sighed, and slowly began his day. He wandered into the upstairs bathroom and stared into the mirror. The face of the man who stared back at him looked tired, very, very, tired.

The house was quiet, a lonely quiet. Alex hated quiet. When Teresa was alive the house was always a buzz with things. She was such a bundle of energy, especially when she had a project she was passionate about. His wedding anniversary in January would have been their tenth. It was amazing how much she became a part of his life. Now it’s just the stupid clocks, the stupid ticking clocks, and the silence.

His first class wasn’t until eleven so there was time to gather his wits about him and finish the rest of the slides due for each lecture. Alex padded softly into his office and fired up his computer. He opened his folder for his first class and clicked on the icon that represented his first set of lecture slides. He sat there almost motionless as he clicked slowly through the slides. Eventually, all his lectures in order, he closed his files and headed off to get ready for the day.

Alex turned on the television in the kitchen and the usual blare of morning chat shows pushed back the silence while he made his breakfast. An hour later, Alex locked his front door, popped open his umbrella, and walked down the steps towards his car parked in the driveway.

He liked to walk to school on sunny days. Today, however, the rain meant that he was going to have to hunt for a parking spot.

At the college where Alex worked having a ‘parking pass’ was, in reality, merely a hunting license. On rainy days like this one it was going to be a long hunt.

Jefferson College was a small school by contemporary standards with a student population under eight thousand. There were several large universities across the state that boasted student attendance records of well over thirty thousand. They were like small cities. The students were crowded into huge lecture halls with massive labs. They filled to capacity the ubiquitous sports arenas that clogged the campus traffic after every event. Alex was happy at Jefferson; he didn’t like crowds.

Ten minutes after he left his home, Alex walked down the hallway towards his office door feeling rather stoic about starting another day. Except for the rain, the day was just like the one before and would most likely be the same as the one to come.

Professor Scott? A forlorn looking college freshman stood fidgeting near his office door. Here’s that paper you said was due yesterday. Will you accept it late?

Alex looked up and sighed. Just this once. And don’t be late again.

Yes sir, mumbled the student as he handed the paper to Alex then turned and fled down the hallway.

Alex looked down at the paper the student just handed to him. The title page read, "A Brief Critical Evaluation of the film Casablanca." Alex sighed and shoved the paper into a folder of other student work and fumbled for his office key. It seemed to him that he was just going through the motions lately; like treading water.

He thought again of the dream that had been rattling around in his brain since four in the morning. He wondered who that woman was going to be? His dreams weren’t always prophetic, but he felt good about this one, considering that he dreamt the same dream now three nights in a row.

His dreams have always been on the strange side. When he’d mentioned a dream to his colleagues they would always commented that their dreams seemed dull by comparison.

At first he was amused by their reactions. Eventually, his colleagues found his dreams to be strangely bizarre and they started to avoid him when he brought the topic up.

He discovered years ago that his dreams were often more predictive than entertaining; at least in his own life. That was probably why he no longer shared his dreams with anyone; they didn’t understand and began to treat him like an outcast.

He stared beyond his computer monitor at nothing in particular and thought again of that woman in the water. Watching her emerge from water and seeing the exact dream three times in a row meant that he needed to pay attention.

Well, he hoped, as he yawned and moved his mouse to open the email server on the computer, that he could stay awake until his last class was over.

Alright, said Alex at the end of his lecture, that’s it for today. Don’t forget to check the class schedule online for next week; I’ve made a few changes.

The rumble of nearly one hundred students scrambling to get out of the classroom filled the lecture hall as Alex shoved his notes into a briefcase and turned off the podium computer.

He walked up the aisle towards the back of the lecture hall to walk out into the lobby area and the waiting knot of students with questions.

It wasn’t that he disliked questions; that’s, after all, what he was all about. Still, it annoyed him a little when they asked the same questions that were posed earlier. It just meant that the dummies were goofing off and not paying attention.

He looked out of the lobby windows. It was still raining, drizzling mostly. Lately he found himself a bit short tempered with his students. He wasn’t like that before. Perhaps he needed a change of pace.

Moments later, he stood in his office as he loosened his tie and pulled it off his shirt collar. Part of the ‘minimum uniform’ of the college professor was the ubiquitous shirt and tie. He gathered some papers and stuffed them into his briefcase; then threw on his jacket. He closed his office door and walked to the front doors of the building.

The old guard on campus expected a suit but that went against the grain with Alex. The rumpled corduroy jacket with leather patches at the elbows was his compromise. He was such a rebel he mused with a wry smile.

The corduroy was just warm enough to keep him comfortable in the autumn air. It was no match, however, for the drizzle he faced as he stood on the steps of the lecture hall waiting to walk across campus.

He ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair and adjusted his glasses for the umpteenth time. The stupid things continued to slide off his nose.

Alex was feeling grumpier than usual. It was probably because it was late.

The heavy rain that pounded the building roof earlier, during class, had let up for the moment. So he decided to chance a walk directly across the grounds rather than wait the half hour or more it usually took for the shuttle bus to show up. He popped his umbrella and turned to head into the drizzle.

The campus was mostly deserted. The rain tended to drive all but the most ardent student indoors. A glance across the commons revealed that he was probably the only one out tonight. The loneliness of the walk didn’t bother him, he was getting used to it. In the distance, along the edge of campus, a large group of flashing lights filled the night sky. It looked like several emergency vehicles and a wrecker were clustered on the street that ran along the front of campus. The damp mist in the night air lent an eerie glow to the flashing red and blue beacons as they pierced the darkness.

He shook his head hoping it wasn’t another reckless student.

Alex continued to cut across the commons area. He was a bit surprised to see someone sitting on a bench along the sidewalk up ahead. As he walked closer he could begin to make out that it was a girl or maybe a woman. It was hard to tell in the dim light and at a distance, the rain spots on his glasses didn’t help either.

When he got closer to her he noticed that she didn’t seem to be prepared for the weather. He didn’t see an umbrella or a raincoat.

He wondered if she was waiting for someone as he glanced in her direction. Assuming that it was none of his business, he didn’t pay much more attention to her as he looked down to dodge the rain puddles on the sidewalk. Still, he wondered why she was out here sitting all alone, especially in the rain at this time of the night.

Now very near her, Alex saw something in her hand that startled him. It was a gun. What was she doing on campus with a gun? Was it loaded? Who should he call? Who is she waiting for? Crap, this was bad.

He stopped suddenly and looked at her more carefully. He could see she was crying; her shoulders were shuddering as she sobbed. Things were going from bad to worse. Finally, he recognized her. It was Emma, Emma Roberts! What the hell!?

Alex knew Emma through some of his classes. She took a few beginning film courses and then there were a couple of advanced project courses. It had been over a year since she took a class with him but he always felt that she was going to be one of his most promising students.

She was quiet and reserved but very smart and well organized. He was always amazed at her ability to quickly comprehend a challenge and find good solutions to resolve it. Emma? Are you okay?

Emma looked up at him, her face a mess of matted hair from the rain. Do I look okay? That’s a stupid question, Mr. Scott. Emma looked down at the gun in her hand and shuddered.

Yes, that was a stupid question; she’s holding a gun in her hand of course she isn’t okay.

You’re right that was a stupid question. I’m sorry. Alex stood for a moment as if waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he walked over and sat down next to her on the bench.

He looked at the ground for a moment and waited. Why was he sitting there? Was he insane?

He glanced over at the gun swaying in her shaking hands. It was an automatic and the hammer was pulled back ready to fire. He wondered if it was meant for her or someone else?

He glanced sideways and watched her for a moment. She was crying again, a gentle sobbing. Her shoulders shuddered as her face, wet with tears and matted auburn hair, had rivulets of mascara running down her cheeks.

After what seemed like a year, but was probably only moments, he gently reached across and slipped the gun from her hand. She didn’t resist his movement. He snapped the clip out, and emptied the chamber. Then he methodically removed all the bullets from the clip, snapped the clip back into the pistol and dropped the gun and the bullets into the briefcase that sat on the ground beside him. His time in the Army came in handy for once.

Emma began to weep, as if the loneliness of a lifetime was suddenly crushing down on her. Alex pulled her to him and let her head settle against his shoulder. He lifted his umbrella over the both of them and held her gently in his arms.

No words passed between them as the rain fell softly on their tiny shelter. Alex no longer felt tired as he looked up to watch the little rivers of water slide off the umbrella. He looked down at Emma’s tear-streaked face and felt an overwhelming sense of compassion for her. As if he understood her somehow on a deeper level, her sense of loneliness and pain. She pulled closer to him and buried her face in his chest. Her crying had now turned into great wracking sobs.

Finally, her sobs subsiding, she lifted her head up to look at Alex. She smiled bleakly and then laid her head back on his shoulder and tried to wipe her tears with the palm of her hand.

He patted her shoulder. Come on, let’s get you to your car.

I don’t have a car, she sniffled, at least not one here.

Where is it?

At my house at the beach.

Oh. How about a friend? Someone close by you can stay with?

Nope. Her hand did little more than smear the tears and mascara on her face.

Humph. Okay. I’ll take you home then. You can sort all of this out in the morning. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to her. Here, take this and wipe your eyes. You’ll scare the raccoons.

Emma smiled again and choked back a laugh at his lame attempt to lighten the moment. She began to wipe her face with the handkerchief that he offered.

She looked up again. What will your wife say?

Huh?

The ring on your finger. What will your wife say if you get home late?

Oh, yeah. He spun the ring on his finger. Not much. She passed away almost a year ago.

Shit, I’m sorry.

It’s okay, how would you have known? Come on. He stood up slowly and turned to smile. My car is over there in the faculty lot.

She got up from the bench and together they walked slowly through the dim haze of streetlights reflecting off the sidewalk. Tiny pools of rainwater splashed beneath their shoes as they crossed the last of the campus grounds. Ahead was the parking lot and Alex’s car.

The traffic on the drive along the freeway towards the oceanfront was fairly light for a Tuesday night. Things really got hectic on the weekends with late night partygoers racing from one nightclub to another. But tonight it was almost peaceful. The rain had let up again and only a light mist shrouded the pavement as Alex drove Emma home.

He glanced over at her then turned his attention back to the road.

She leaned against the window on the passenger side and watched the few cars and streetlights whiz by.

Emma glanced back at Alex as he drove down the freeway towards her home. Her mind was numb from all that had happened that night. She didn’t want to think about it, not now at least. Surely Mr. Scott would ask her something. But much to her relief, he didn’t. She remembered him as a good teacher, always fair and equitable. He had a kind face too. Another time she might have gotten to know him better.

Which exit, she heard him ask softly.

Emma roused from her stupor and mumbled, "Go all the way to Pacific and turn left. I’m on 58th street. 5807."

She turned to look at Alex. What an odd guy. Most people would be babbling their brains out after they saw her holding a gun.

He drove down the freeway towards the oceanfront in silence. Eventually he arrived at Pacific Avenue, turned left and headed away from the streetlights of the oceanfront, the tourist hotels, the noisy bars, and towards the quiet darkness of the upper beach. 58th street arrived eventually and he turned left again. The street was vacant.

He drove slowly up the narrow street and pulled up outside of Emma’s house. He walked around the car to open the door for her. The drizzle kept the air damp as she got out slowly and stood by the car a moment.

Thanks. She took a couple of steps towards her home then she turned to look at Alex as he leaned against his car. I’m okay, really.

I know, he replied with a wry smile, But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait till I see a light come on inside then I’ll go.

Okay. Emma turned towards her steps then stopped and turned back. You saved my life back there on that bench. Thank you.

It’s what boy scouts do best. He said it with a sheepish grin and a silly three-fingered salute.

Emma walked back down to him. She leaned forward as if to kiss him on the cheek but instead whispered into his ear.

Another merit badge bravely won. She smiled sweetly. What was it about him that made her feel like she wanted to curl up in his arms?

She watched him rummage around inside a jacket pocket.

She leaned back and studied him a moment longer as he pulled out a tattered business card from a small wallet and found a pen. He scribbled a number on the back of the card.

Here. He offered the card to her. My cell number is on the back. I want you to call me by noon tomorrow, okay? If you don’t I’ll come looking for you.

Emma looked into his eyes. That was totally unpredictable. How interesting.

His eyes were shrouded in the shadows cast by trees surrounding the lonely streetlight that illuminated the narrow street outside of her home. She nodded to him, then turned and made her way up the drive and towards her house. She slowly ascended the steps to her front door. She found her keys, unlocked the door and stepped inside. A few moments later a light came on in the upper floor of the building. He turned, got into his car, and drove off into the night.

Emma slid open the atrium doors at the front of her house. She walked out onto the deck that stretched towards the ocean and watched Alex’s tail lights fade in the distance.

Thank you for saving my life Mr. Scott.

THE BEACH OFF 58TH STREET

After Alex arrived home he sat for nearly an hour answering email before he could even think about sleep. Eventually, his eyes refused to focus and he decided it was time to go to bed. But sleep was elusive that night. His thoughts continued to return to the park bench and a sobbing girl with a loaded pistol.

On campus no less! He wondered why he didn’t ask what happened? Why didn’t he ask her about the gun? She obviously didn’t want to talk about it because she was so quiet all the way to her home.

Finally, at four in the morning, Alex got out of bed. He had tossed and turned all night. It was hopeless; he was only fooling himself if he thought he was going to get any sleep. He flipped on the light and stumbled a few steps until his eyes adjusted.

He wandered into the bathroom for a little relief, then down the hall, and back into his home office. Alex fired up the computer and decided on a cup of coffee now that he was fully awake.

He looked at his calendar and realized that he only had one class on Wednesdays. It was at 10 o’clock so that meant he could be out of his class by noon to wait for Emma’s call.

He hoped that she was all right. She looked pretty rough last night. He thought about her beautiful eyes. Oh well, as Henry Higgins said in Pygmalion, ‘pupils are sacred’.

Moments later, he walked out of the office and started his morning routine. Albeit a few hours earlier than he planned for the second day in a row.

Before he knew it, he was off to his Wednesday morning class.

The morning class went okay; it was one more day towards the winter holidays. More suicides happen during those holidays then any other time of the year.

And that thought bought him back to Emma. It was twelve oh five and he hadn’t heard from her yet.

Alex looked one more time at the clock on the office wall then picked up his briefcase and walked out of his office. Then he stopped abruptly and opened his briefcase.

Damn it, I still have that gun in this! He shook his head, amazed at himself. Well, he didn’t care if she called him now or not; he was driving out there anyway.

He was already off campus and driving up the on-ramp of the freeway when his cellphone beeped. He pulled over to the shoulder of the road and flipped the phone open to read the text.

It read: I’m okay. I’ll live another day. Emma.

Alex hit the reply key and typed: Good. Heading to the beach for a much needed mid-week break. Find me on the sand off 58th street.

He got back on the road and headed for the beach…and Emma. There were questions he wanted to ask.

Finding a parking place on the North beach is always a chore but today he was lucky and eventually he found a secluded spot to park his car. He opened his trunk, pulled out an old blanket he kept there for no reason, and headed for the public access walkway just a few yards away.

The ocean surf was gentler today; only a mild on-shore breeze nudged the surf against the shore. Alex wandered down towards the edge of the water line and spread his blanket on the sand. He sat down and leaned back to enjoy the moment. It was so completely different from his work at