The Resurrection of Evie Evanston

By Kristina Groth

Evie Evanston has struggled with bipolar disorder for most of her adult life, but one night she is pushed to her breaking point, and when she finds herself on the precipice of self-destruction, it is the vampire Manfred Veicht who pulls her back, and introduces her to a new unlife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristina Groth
• Release date: Jun 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005819057

Kristina Groth

I have a sincere love for all things vampire, and that love is only surpassed by my love for my friends and family, and that love is then surpassed by my love of extraordinarily long sentences.Without writing, I'd have no voice with which to tell the world how I really feel. Life with mental illness is challenging, but less challenging than no life. With my roommates, my cats, and a good cup of coffee, I take on the task of putting fingers to keyboard and put myself out there, so that maybe the right reader will find my books.Oh, and I love second-hand clothes. Thrift stores are my jam.

Book preview

Chapter 1

A streetlight flickered along a deserted sidewalk. No pedestrians on the sidewalk, no cars on the street. It was the dead of night, and nobody was out and about, not even the stars, as thick clouds covered the night sky. All was quiet, perfectly normal for such a quiet town.

Stenton was this quiet town, a small town that served as a suburb of Charlottesville, near the heartbeat of Virginia. While the larger metropolitan area was a bustling hub of University of Virginia students and workers and professionals that made the city run, Stenton itself was modest and laid back, a welcome retreat for people who spent their days in the greater Charlottesville area.

In such a quiet suburb, where stores and even the three local bars closed early, it would be unusual to see people driving the streets, let alone walking them.

The town was as silent as a grave, silent as the graves of Parkside Cemetery, which lie, as one would guess, next to the sprawling green park where people would have picnics and play. Such was the contrast between the land of the living, and the realm of the dead.

The cemetery was dark, a rolling mist obscuring the headstones. A gentle breeze rustled the branches of nearby trees, but it was quiet. Quiet like the dead that lie beneath the earth. The atmosphere was foreboding, oppressive to anyone who walked among the dead. But nobody was present tonight, save for one woman.

The woman, wrapped in a scarf and long peacoat, rushed hurriedly among the grave markers. She was searching for one, but which one was it? She didn’t seem sure. She shined a flashlight on each one as she walked by, becoming more frustrated as the one for which she was searching remained elusive.

Where are you? she whispered to herself as she checked each marker.

She knew what she was hunting for in this cemetery. It was all a matter of finding it, finding the right grave. She was sure of herself when her search began, but now she was questioning herself.

Was it even here? No… it has to be. This is where I was told it would be.

Silence was all that she heard, save for the rustling tree branches. She continued to make her way through the headstones, until she spotted a light ahead. Curious, but more like she was determined, she walked toward the source of the light. Her feet felt heavy as she did, as if she were under extreme exhaustion.

Why were gravediggers working so late? How late is it, anyway?

She had no idea, as her phone’s battery had died and she had no idea what time it actually was. It was easily past midnight, to be sure. It was around that time that the battery went from 1% to a black screen.

She soon saw that the light came from a single battery-powered lantern, casting light on the nearby headstones, and a nearby excavator. But more importantly than that, it was casting its light on what was a recently dug grave, and next to this grave was a casket. It was hard to see what wood this casket was made of, even by the lantern’s light, but the woman was drawn to it.

This has to be it. Has to be, she said to herself. This must be where it’s at.

Picking up the lantern with her left hand, she approached the casket. She didn’t know why this felt right to her, but if the other graves were a bust, then maybe the freshly dug one would be the one that she needed.

The woman paused and took a deep breath. The night air smelled almost sweet, from the blossoms on the trees. Her anxiety had increased to the point where her heartbeat echoed in her ears, so loud that it drowned out the sound of the wind among the trees. She took another deep breath. The air in her lungs helped calm her, but not completely. Her hand rested on the casket’s handle, and in one resolute move she flung the casket lid open and shined the lantern inside of it.

Inside was a woman, laid to rest in a beautiful black gown, decorated with dark garnets, with elaborate embroidery at the neckline. The woman herself was beautiful, with a nicely made-up face, her pale complexion contrasting with dark lipstick.

She must have been prepared just today.

Her mouth was slightly agape, a consequence of death and release of all muscle control. Her hands were folded over her stomach, and on her left hand was a ring, rose gold, adorned with tiny garnets arranged in what looked like a circle with one larger garnet in the center.

The woman looked at the ring, and at the woman’s face. This all felt familiar to her, the woman, the gown, the casket.

Do I know her?

She may not have known the woman, but she knew the ring, the ring itself she knew quite well. The woman knew the importance of such a piece of jewelry, because it belonged to her. She reached into the casket to touch the ring. She needed to know that she had found it, that she had found her lost piece of jewelry. How this woman ended up with it, especially during whatever funerary service she had been a part of, was a mystery. All she knew was that her friend had told her that he had seen it with a woman, a woman like this.

I need to tell him that… that… damn, what was his name?

She had poor memory when it came to names, especially when it concerned people she didn’t know very well. She remembered his tall frame, his short dark hair, his brown eyes. But name?

Well, I’ll remember it later.

She turned her focus back to the matter at hand. She reached down and nervously put her finger on the ring. It felt cool to the touch. The stones were smooth and well-polished. The ring itself was immaculate in condition, and by the light of the lantern looked pristine, as if it had never been worn.

I’m sorry, but I need this back. the woman said to the corpse.

She set the lantern onto the casket, freeing up her other hand to help take the ring off the dead woman’s finger. She started to twist the ring when a howl broke out in the darkness. The woman jerked her head around, to try to see what was making that noise. Coyotes were common around here, but that howl seemed awfully close. Too close for the woman’s comfort. She shook her head and reached back into the casket.

It was then that the hairs on her arm stood up. Something was near her; she could sense it. She whirled around, looking for whatever was watching her.

Who is it?! she yelled.

She grabbed the lantern off the casket and pointed it in every direction, hoping to catch sight of the watcher. But she saw nothing and heard nothing. Her breaths had become shallow, her heart rate had become elevated to the point of discomfort. She tried breathing exercises to slow down the palpitations. They worked a little, although the woman knew that she wasn’t the best at such mindfulness techniques.

She looked around her for a few minutes, and although her nerves were becoming shot from the sensations and solitude of being in the cemetery, she returned to the task at hand. She reached into the casket once more to wriggle the ring of the stiff, lifeless finger.

It was then that a cold hand grabbed hers in a vice-like grip. The woman screamed and tried to pull her hand free but couldn’t. She looked at the corpse in terror when it opened its eyes, revealing a blackness that faintly glowed a fierce orange. The corpse smiled.

Welcome home, Evie, it said in a raspy tone,

The corpse pulled the woman into the casket. The woman screamed as the corpse enveloped her in a cold embrace, and all went black.

Chapter 2

EVIE!

The thundering voice of Jacob jolted Evie awake. She looked around her in a moment of confusion before nervously responding to her supervisor.

Hey Jacob, I’m sorry, I was just…

Just what? Dozing off? Jacob’s reply was the utmost in accusation. Do you need more coffee or something? We don’t sleep on the clock here.

Evie hung her head sheepishly.

I wasn’t… dozing… I was just… I mean…, she stammered out her words.

This wasn’t her first time dealing with this issue. She just didn’t know what to say.

Look… if you need time off, use your sick time, and get your head straight. Otherwise, you need to focus on your call volume. And I mean that.

I’ll keep that in mind, Jacob, Evie replied.

She knew full well that she had already exhausted all her sick leave. There was nothing left for her to do but show up to work. Jacob may or may not have known that, but his suggestion was a futile one at best.

Jacob nodded and walked away. Evie turned in her chair to look at her computer monitor. There were calls in the queue, too many calls, she had to get back to work. She couldn’t afford to get written up, suspended, or God forbid, terminated. She needed this

job much more severely than this job needed her.

Not that her job was a difficult one. She worked at a call center handling a local utilities company. Customers call, mostly yell at her, she types a few keystrokes, the customers yell at her some more, she clicks a few links, and either ends the call or escalates it to tech support. She did this eight hours a day, Monday through Friday. No imagination required, just the ability to sit and use a computer and a headset. Maybe that’s why she was here, that a job less taxing would fare better on her delicate psyche.

Delicate may not be the best word to use to describe Evie’s mental state, but as a survivor of suicide and the behavioral health wing at the metropolitan hospital, delicate is what she was. Delicate was her mental state, delicate was her medication cocktails to manage her bouts of mania and depression, delicate were her attempts to maintain herself in a normal environment.

The word normal may be relative to some people, but to Evie that meant keeping her apartment, her meds, her job. Such was her focus that she lived in perpetual fear of losing her job, that it consumed her inside and outside of work. Was the fear irrational? One could look at her attendance record and conclude that her fear of unemployment would be a rational one.

Thank you for calling, how may I assist you today?

Evie answered the next call in the most artificially friendly way possible. It was all artificial, all a facade to her. This job was just a means to an end, payday to payday, to pay bills and buy food and meds. There was no passion to be found here, only the daily drudge of the most mind-numbingly mundane existence conceivable to Evie.

It was because of this monotony that she often dissociated at work. Too often to be a good thing, but not often enough that it drew unnecessary attention. Being called out by Jacob was an unpleasant experience, but thankfully not a common one. The dissociative episodes were, as her last therapist had put it, a way to cope with a psychologically threatening environment. Or a way to cope with life’s misery. Evie had both, in spades. Take into account that her job didn’t require the utmost in mental exercise, and what she had left were opportunities rife for maladaptive daydreaming.

The call continued, the customer on the line was busy berating Evie through her headset, while Evie just stared blankly into the computer screen. This lasted for a minute, until the angry customer had finished verbally abusing her, at which point Evie credited his account for $5.63. That’s what the call had been about, and Evie was happy to have finally ended it.

One more call down, three hours left in the work day.

Evie took a minute to lean back in her chair and stretch. Then she heard Jacob’s voice, several cubicles back. This brought Evie back to the present, back to the next call. She didn’t need Jacob to speak to her a second time. She needed to take calls. Focus. Take calls. Wash, rinse, repeat, for three more hours.

Hi, thank you for calling, how may I assist you today?

The smile in her voice was as fake as the one on her face.

Three more hours…

6:00 PM couldn’t have arrived any sooner. Evie, short for Evelyn Michelle Evanston, wrapped up her day, logged out of her terminal, and headed for the door leading to the stairwell. The cubicles were on the third floor of the office building, and when it came to leaving work, Evie preferred flying down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. It was easier to sweat a little than endure awkward silence on an elevator ride, or worse, endure awkward conversation.

The sky was still bright, the sun now making its approach towards sunset, which would be in a little over an hour. Maybe. Evie wasn’t too sure; she never paid much attention to the sun rising or setting. She knew her schedule, her appointments, her routines. Everything else was secondary.

Evie walked to her car, her very used Kia with the failing ignition coil, and unlocked it after several attempts, and got inside. She put her seatbelt on, put the key in the ignition, and with a pause in her breath, turned the key.

The car started, to Evie’s relief, and homeward she drove.

It was late March in central Virginia. The temperature was still cool, but with warm sunshine and chilly nights. There was no need for air or heat for the 20-minute drive to her apartment. She preferred leaving the AC off, as well as the radio. The music that played, any music, even when it wasn’t all static, bothered her. Evie preferred silence when she was driving. She usually had enough noise in her head to keep her occupied.

She was halfway home when her phone chimed. It was a text message, but Evie was too focused on driving to check it. She had already gotten a ticket for distracted driving, not even two months ago, and she’ll be damned if she gets another. Whoever texted her, they can wait a little bit.

The sun was hanging lower in the windshield, forcing Evie to drop the visor and squint a little as she drove. She should have had her sunglasses, but they were, of course, nowhere to be found. She wanted to look for them, but the light that she was approaching turned red, and she ended up stopping and waiting.

It was out of the corner of her that she caught a billboard for a local church. She was sure she had passed this advertisement before, more than several times during the commute, but she never paid much attention to it. Evie did not consider herself a very religious person, or really any kind of religious person at all. A billboard advertising Easter sunrise services at a local church would not normally grab Evie’s attention.

It was Monday, and Easter was four days away. Didn’t her parents want to have dinner together? Or something? They never really saw each other as it was, and Evie wanted to make sure before she made her own plans for a solitary Easter dinner.

Crap! Evie suddenly yelled as she grabbed her phone.

She wanted to see if mom or dad had texted her about coming by for Easter dinner. She fumbled her phone in haste, and while she was fumbling her phone, a car honked its horn behind her. The light had turned green, and Evie was still at a dead stop.

Okay! Okay!

Evie was yelling behind her, pretending like the other car could hear her. She stepped on the gas, and off she went. It was 6:30 when she arrived at her home, an apartment complex called Meadow Run. Her unit was in Building G. Luckily for her she had a ground unit. She was in no mood for stairs. Not after work, and not usually in any case. Oftentimes her manic depression made her lethargic, so a ground floor unit suited her better than a second or third floor apartment.

Normally Evie would check the mail after parking, but she passed on doing that, as she had done for over a week now, and went to her door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. She needed to get in touch with her mom about Easter. She threw her bag onto the couch, slipped out of her shoes, and pulled out her phone. Sure enough, her mom had texted her.

Call me when you get home, the text read.

Evie dialed her mom and waited. It rang three times before her mom picked up.

Hey sweetie! Her mom’s cheerful voice almost grated on Evie’s ears. How was work?

Work was… well… work, Evie replied. Same old thing, you know.

Did you take your meds today? her mom asked.

Mom… what… YES, yes I took them.

Evie always became irritated when people asked about her and her psych meds, especially when it wasn’t the point of the phone call.

Okay sweetie, no need to be upset, I just worry about you.

Her mom did sound genuinely concerned, but Evie often wondered if she was being gaslighted by her mom. Her suspicious nature often made it feel that way.

I’m... sorry, mom. You know how I am after work, Evie said apologetically. What did you want to talk about?

Well, Easter is next weekend, and your father and I wanted to celebrate by having dinner at your apartment, her mom said. You’ve never invited us over, and we want to see it for ourselves.

My apartment? Evie was sincerely surprised. I mean, sure, if that’s what you guys want. It’s not much to look at, though. I mean… It's just an apartment. I don’t even have a spare bedroom.

No worries, dear. It’s only an hour drive for us, there’s no need for us to stay overnight. her mom said assuredly.

This did make Evie feel a little better. She never had overnight guests, even family, and appreciated her solitude even more because of it.

Well... what are we cooking? Do I need to pick up anything?

Evie’s voice began sounding a little stressed. She wasn’t doing anything except talking on the phone with her mom, and she was already feeling stressed. Or maybe she was still stressed from work, or from life in general. It was hard for her to tell sometimes.

Just your appetite and a smile. You know I love cooking for my children.

Children? Does that mean…

Is Emma coming?? Evie asked with some excitement. I thought she was in Ohio for Easter.

Well, when I talked to her, she said she wanted to come, to see her little sister’s new place, her mom replied.

Evie became excited. It’s been a couple of years since she had last seen her little sister. Emma had enrolled as a freshman at the University of Toledo in the fall, studying secondary education. Her little sister wanted to be a teacher.

Evie, however, never got to see her away, as she was spending that month of August in a psych ward in Richmond. This was in addition to the month of July she had already been committed. Evie had problems growing up, but last year was very bad. She needed help, and her family made sure that she got it, even going out of the area to help her.

Okay, well, that’s great!

Evie’s tune changed, and now she was looking forward to having her family for Easter.

I’ll be in touch, sweetie. I’m going to clean up the kitchen, you take care of yourself. Take your meds! her mom said sternly.

Okay, okay, I will! Evie said. She had had enough with the meds. Love you, mom.

Love you too, Evie. Bye, her mom said before ending the call.

Evie set her phone down and looked around her living room. She didn’t have much space to entertain guests, but three family members would be fine, especially if they weren’t going to stay the night. Her second bedroom had become a storage area for loads of belongings that she couldn’t part with, things that held sentimental value to her. Old clothes, for example, and a never-ending pile of books.

Evie was an avid reader, which worked well with her vivid imagination. Books, for her, were an escape from the call center, from Jacob, from awkward encounters with her neighbors, from her own symptoms. She loved a good fantasy novel, and she adored historical pieces. They helped to fill a void in her life, one wrought in eternal solitude.

She never had any plans to have a partner, a romantic partner, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

Books, in short, had become the surrogate partner in her life.

But more importantly