The vampire’s shadow glided along the wall of the corridor, and each flickering candleflame over which that darkness fell gasped and died, so that all there was which could be seen behind that thin, pale figure was a swirl of smoke and an impenetrable blackness.
The Count, as they had christened this unknown revenant, walked with a weary stoop, and his shadow, not like other shadows, seemed to move where it would regardless of how the light fell. Neither did its form resemble the crouched figure, but sauntered proudly behind the animated corpse.
The children drew closer together, backing up step by step as the encroaching wraith drew ever nearer.
“Stop,” shouted Tommy.
The Count continued without pause.
“I’m warning you.”
Still, the vampire came, his bony arms reaching out, his slender fingers stretching toward them.
“Now!” cried the young boy, and all the children lit their flashlights, pointing their beams, not on the marionette, but on the puppet master himself.
The shadow froze under their electric light, and the corpse was still. For a moment, Tom thought he saw a scowl on that featureless head, and then, in the blink of an eye, the scowl and the shadow and the corpse were gone.
Tale Told 