Of Flesh & Blood

By Steve Wilson

Beautiful, alluring, and deadly, no man can resist her charms.No soul can escape her grasp. No grave can contain her infernal hunger... Of Flesh & Blood is a tale of Gothic Horror that will chill readers to their very bones. This is the untold story of Nosferata, The Bride of The Damned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Wilson
• Release date: Mar 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386363347

Steve Wilson

Steve Wilson and Lucy Tapper are the husband-and-wife team behind Horace and Hattie Hedgehog and their picture books, Hedgehugs and Hedgehugs and the Hattiepillar.

Book preview

Of Flesh & Blood

Steve Wilson

Published by Steve Wilson, 2020.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

OF FLESH & BLOOD

First edition. March 1, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 Steve Wilson.

Written by Steve Wilson.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Of Flesh & Blood

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About the Author

For Deborah

My name is Marcus Horatio Worthington and I am of sound body and mind. I consider myself a man of reason and I am opposed to superstition in all its forms. With these principles in mind, I am compelled to relate my experience of an encounter with a creature that I can only describe as evil. Evil in the purest sense of the word. I would be the first to scoff at the idea of such a creature had I not set eyes upon it myself. Placed in such an unfortunate circumstance, I had no choice but to reconcile myself to its reality.

The events of which I am about to tell took place in the West Yorkshire village of Bramley exactly one year ago to the day. I was charged with overseeing the sale of Bramley Hall by my employers, Maxwell and Stavely of London. Accompanied by my assistant, Thomas Hearne, I made my way there via the city of Leeds.

We spent the greater part of our journey travelling by steam train; the remainder was completed by horse and carriage the following morning. We were fortunate enough to secure rental of the latest Hansom cab and we could not have wished for a more well-appointed conveyance. The carriage was both spacious and comfortable, providing ample cover from the elements. Frequent bouts of rain are an unfortunate fact of life in the North of England, even more so than in the South. Happily, our driver was in possession of a stout raincoat and a top hat with a good leather chin strap to keep it securely placed upon his head. Without these two luxuries, I fear he would have soon lost his hat to the wind and been soaked to the skin!

We arrived in Bramley at approximately midday. We were to stay at The Bramley Tavern, a local public house with several rooms available to rent. Our employers had contacted the landlord via telegraph several weeks earlier. Messages were relayed via the local post office and then delivered by hand. The landlord would read our employer’s messages and then send his reply. After a day or so of this exchange, our details were confirmed; rooms were set aside for both myself and my assistant.

Ned Larkin, the landlord of the Bramley Tavern, was both a hospitable and considerate host. We warmed to him immediately. His sense of humour took a little getting used to, but we quickly learned the gist of it. In the North of England, quite often, when people insult you, it actually means that they are fond of you! There were a couple of initial misunderstandings, not least of which concerned my assistant’s lack of a moustache, which Larkin took as an amusing sign of Hearne’s inability to grow one. In actual fact, he believes them to be outmoded and deliberately sports a modern, clean-shaven style. We soon grasped Larkin’s nature and got on splendidly with him.

Once our luggage was unloaded from the Hansom cab, we agreed to rendezvous with our driver in three days’ time. We were then shown to our rooms by Larkin’s son, James. James was a quiet lad to say the least. In fact, I do not think we exchanged a single word with him during our stay. If I hadn’t seen him talking with his father, I could easily have believed he was a mute. Rather than speak, the lad made it clear to both of us which room was which by placing each of our suitcases by their respective room’s