The iron gates were open again. The vampire paused before the archway looking through in puzzlement. It had been forced, he could see where someone had bent the metal aside to get in. Grave robbers? No, not in this century. Vandals then. He glanced over his caped shoulder, scanning the close by gloomy headstones of the Victorian cemetery.
Nothing seemed out of place, but now he was aware, he could smell the recent humans. It had been a group of young men with some sharp chemical spray. He had seen the red and blue paintings before, nights ago now, on some of the gravestones at the back. Blurred and run together English letter shapes and faces with crosses over the eyes and a tongue sticking out. He had not been sure what they had meant, expect for death. Crosses always meant that.
He stepped under the gateway, just to be safer and gathered his ground touching black cape about himself. His tall, lean form molded into the darkness as if he was one of the shadows upon the stone brick wall. Instinctively, he knew he should leave the cemetery all together. The humans had returned too many times now and though it seemed impossible that they would get into the crypt, he could not put anything passed this generation.
The vampire looked back with longing. The grounds had been his home for a hundred, possibly even more, years. And where would he now go? There where no safe places left from the ever bright lights and searching footsteps. He lived in fear of discovery like never before. Maybe, it was time he went to sleep again? He could easily entomb himself with the dead here, just like he had done before.
He fought with the idea and the risk of discovery deepened further. No, he finally decided, it would never work. What he needed to do was to become a part of this world in human pretense. Perhaps, it was time he found a companion.
Photo prompt and image from: https://scvincent.com/2016/09/15/thursday-photo-prompt-gate-writephoto/ with thanks.