Disclaimer: Fright Night is the property of Tom Holland and any other legitimate copyright holders. This is a work of fan fiction; no profit is being made or should be inferred from this story.

Fright Night: Jerry's Side of the Story

Copyright 1999

A short story based on the movie "Fright Night."

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If I'd known then what I know now, I would have stayed far away from Corvallis, Iowa, 99 Oak Street, and Charley Brewster. Especially Charley Brewster.

I hadn't even finished unpacking when the problems started.

It seemed that my new next-door neighbors were inquisitive types. The mother I could handle easily enough -- her curiosity had more to do with whether or not I was single and interested than with anything else. Her son was another story.

Charley, as it turned out, was a budding voyeur with a pair of high powered binoculars and a bedroom window conveniently overlooking my side yard -- and a bird's eye view directly into my bedroom. During an all-night peep session, he got more of an eyeful than he'd bargained for-I'd been minding my own business, about to enjoy a late supper.but I digress.

The last straw came the next afternoon when Charley brought the police over to my house. Thanks to my faithful servant, they didn't find anything to concern them, but they came this close to disturbing my sleep. As anyone who knows me will attest, I'm a real terror if I don't get my full twelve hours.

When I dropped by later to explain to Charley the error of his ways, he proved less than receptive.

His mother, Judy, was just the opposite. In person, she was an even bigger flirt than she had been over the phone, but it was almost endearing- all smiles and giggles, like a schoolgirl with her first big crush.

I flirted back a little, and let her fix me a drink. After all, that was my excuse for being there; she'd invited me over for drinks. (I never go anywhere without being invited, first.) Anyway, I was sitting in a large wing chair, sipping my Bloody Mary, when Charley bounded into the room in response to his mother's call. The dear lady wanted to introduce us.

As I said, Charley wasn't thrilled to see me. At Judy's prompting, he shook my hand, but I could smell the fear radiating off him. He stammered an excuse to his mother and bolted back up the stairs so fast that he tripped over his own feet and nearly broke his nose on the banister. Judy apologized profusely for her son's behavior and I accepted.

I might have to kill him later, but there was no need to be rude about it.

It was later that same night when I returned to the Brewster house. I hadn't had a bite all evening and frankly I was a bit short with Charley when we began our little chat. Still, was that any reason for him to stab a wooden pencil through my hand?

Of course, I was trying to shove him out his bedroom window at the time, so I suppose there were mitigating circumstances...

Honestly, I tried to be reasonable about it.

All I wanted was to be left alone. It's not like I've made some kind of "lifestyle decision" here. I never asked to become a vampire, and I really don't enjoy some of the things I have to do to survive. I don't have a choice.

I offered Charley a choice, though the fool refused to take it. Instead, he tried to shove a cross in my face. That's when I lost my temper. There I was, practically bending over backward to be nice to the little pervert, and how does he repay my kindness? Admittedly, by that point I was trying to kill him, and perhaps even enjoying myself a little, but.It would have been quick. Not entirely painless, mind you; Charley had made sure of that, himself. But. fairly quick. Not lingering, anyway.

Admit it, in my shoes, you'd have been pretty pissed-off, too.

After the pencil incident, things got a bit...loud. Judy started pounding on her bedroom door, shouting at Charley to tell her what was going on.

Why didn't she come see for herself? Simple. Before bearding Charley in his den, I'd detoured through her bedroom and made sure she wouldn't interrupt our tete-a-tete. One good tug and her door was wedged solidly into its frame.

But all the noise was apparently enough incentive for her to put some muscle into it, and from the sound of it, I figured she'd be popping in at any minute. So I gave Charley a dirty look (just to let him know that this wasn't finished) and flew out of there like a... No. Forget I said that.

On the way home, I made a brief detour through the backyard where Charley kept his precious Mustang and, uh, vented some of my frustration. The kid must have thought a lot of that car, parking it well away from the street so nothing could happen to it. In a way, I did him a favor. From now on, he can park most of it in a shoebox under his bed.

In retrospect, the phone call was a mistake. My wounded pride (and wounded hand) got the better of me. The pipsqueak had actually made me bleed--and I wanted to return the favor.

So I dialed him up and promised we'd continue our little drama tomorrow night. I wanted to instill a healthy fear of me into the depths of his geeky soul.

It scared him, all right. I guess that's where Peter Vincent came in.

Charley's friends somehow convinced Vincent to help them prove to Charley that yours truly wasn't a vampire.

When they called to explain the plan to me, I agreed. It seemed like a gift from above. And what could be simpler? Just drink a vial of tap water while they all watched. Then everyone's convinced that the kid's a nut case and it's no surprise when he goes off the deep end (or out the window), and I come out the winner. Right?

Wrong.

Oh, things started out okay. The teen trio and Peter Vincent, the "Great Vampire Killer" of past movie fame, showed up at my house the next evening. A few well-chosen comments about his career had Vincent eating out of my hand.

The teenagers were even easier to win over, though to be honest, I barely noticed Ed at first. All my attention was focused on Charley's girlfriend, Amy.

Now, I know what you're thinking. But at my age, every woman is a "younger woman". And besides, she looked just like someone I used to know...a long time ago. Someone special. We--

But that's another story.

Vincent handed over the "holy water" and, after the tiniest of hesitations, I obediently swigged it. It occurred to me that this bunch might be smarter than they looked, but I needn't have worried.

Unfortunately for me, sheer dumb luck is sometimes a better ally than the sharpest intellect.

After I'd swallowed the last of the tap water (like so much in the modern world, it tasted of chemicals), I looked at the expectant faces around the room. Everyone seemed satisfied... Everyone except Charley, of course.

Never one to let things go, he pulled a gold cross out of his pocket and thrust the holy symbol at me.

I took a single, involuntary step back. Billy, my servant, was about to show Charley a better-if more painful--place to keep his cross when, to my surprise, Vincent beat him to it. He snatched the cross away from Charley and stuck it back in the kid's pocket, with an admonition for his rudeness.

I took the opportunity to point out that his behavior was hurting his friends and, if it continued, it was likely to hurt them a great deal more. Charley took the hint, and we all smiled and pretended to be friends. I allowed myself a moment of relief. But a part of me wondered how long it would last.

As it turned out, not long at all.

I was trading casual remarks with Ed and Amy, assuring them they were always welcome in my house (especially Amy), when Vincent suddenly got all agitated and hustled the kids outside. Billy was sure our troubles were over; after tonight's performance, they'd never believe Charley's wild stories.

I would've agreed -- but I'd just heard something crunch underneath my sole. It was a sliver of broken glass. Mirrored glass.

Damn.

It looked like I'd have to go out tonight, after all.

I easily trailed the three teens through the nighttime streets. When the trio split up, I followed Ed. An appetizer before the main course, you might say.

It was nothing personal. In fact, I rather liked Ed, and I could understand how he must feel--never quite fitting in, persecuted for being different. No doubt he suffered more than enough every day and I really didn't want to hurt the kid. Too much. After all, it wasn't his fault he had Charley for a friend. He probably didn't have a great many options to choose from.

I made sure it was over quickly.

He barely had time to scream.

I caught up with Charley and Amy outside the Club Radio. They ran, as if they actually had a chance of escaping me. It was almost funny.

Inside the club, blaring pop music formed a wall of sound. The floor was carpeted with wall-to-wall dancers, but I unerringly homed in on Amy. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to forget all about Charley Brewster and just lose myself in her oh-so-familiar eyes. For a moment, I almost did.

I smiled and when she hesitantly smiled back, I thought my heart would start beating again.

We were dancing, our bodies pressed close, swaying in time to the music, when Charley tried to cut in.

He swung a wild punch at me. I caught his fist and rearranged his knuckles. Forcing him to his knees, I told him to get Vincent and bring him to my house.

Now, I can hear you objecting. What made me think he'd accept my gracious invitation? After all, we weren't exactly bosom buddies. But I was certain he'd show up.

I was taking Amy with me.

A couple of beefy bouncers got in my way as we were leaving. It had been a long couple of nights, with the move and unpacking and Charley...

I shredded the first bouncer's meaty throat with a single swipe of my talons. I went a bit easier on his partner, punching five neat holes in his neck and tossing him halfway across the dance-floor. The dancers scattered like panicked sheep.

Charley got caught in the sudden exodus, but I was beside Amy in an instant. I swept her into my arms, holding her safely at my side.

Billy was waiting outside with the Jeep -- and Ed, who had failed in the simple task I'd set for him, but he was young and I had already decided it would be more fun to take care of the old man myself.

Behind us, I could hear Charley bleating Amy's name as we drove away.

I don't know how he convinced Peter Vincent to accompany him, but Charley wasn't alone when he returned to 99 Oak Street.

I'd made Amy comfortable in my upstairs bedroom (there was a certain fitting irony in that, I felt)...and, no, I won't go into details. A gentleman does not kiss and tell.

Of course, Amy was Charley's first concern when I confronted him on the foyer stairs. I really couldn't fault him for that, though I had to wonder what on earth she saw in him--a gawky kid with no prospects and a model kit car (some assembly required). Well, tonight she'd traded up. I could give her everything she could ever want, all the luxuries she deserved. I would be a loving and devoted husband. Fate had given us this second chance and I wasn't about to squander it.

But first I had to remove a pair of obstacles to our happiness.

Charley and Vincent went into their vampire killer routine. It was more like Vaudeville. Vincent hauled out a large pewter cross and thrust it at me, adding a rather insulting slur to the melodramatic gesture. Let me see, I believe his exact words were "Back, Spawn of Satan!" He was quite upset when I laughed in his face.

You see, it's not the size of your cross that counts; you have to have faith to back it up. Oh, I'd seen what he'd managed to do to poor Ed's face (that cross-shaped burn had to hurt, and I'd see that Ed was properly avenged), but Ed was a newly-made vampire, a mere infant, fragile in the way of all newborns.

I'm a lot older--old enough that only a cross-backed by genuine faith can harm me. And the one in Vincent's trembling hand was about as threatening as a fistful of Play-Doh. As if it were constructed of that malleable substance, I crushed the pewter cross and tossed it contemptuously aside. Things were going quite well.

Of course, Charley had to butt in.

I'll say this for the kid -- he has faith. His dinky gold cross practically glowed as he thrust it at me, forcing me away from his partner. I longed to rip his damned throat out then and there, but the pain drove me back, and I moaned aloud in my frustration.

Fortunately, my faithful servant was never far from my side. Billy backhanded Charley with enough force to knock him for a loop. In fact, he knocked Charley clear through the banister and sent him sprawling onto the floor below.

I smiled, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. When I turned the smile on Vincent, he turned and ran like the old coward he really was. I watched him go, his face a rictus of fear, his trademark Victorian coattails chasing him out the door. It was all so ridiculous, I had to laugh.

It was turning out to be a fun night, after all.

I thought Charley would make a nice wedding present for Amy, so I hauled him upstairs to wait for morning. She'd be hungry when she awoke, just before dawn, and Charley would be there--all set to be her first meal. Delighted with the irony, I whistled cheerfully as I headed down to the basement to put the finishing touches on Amy's new accommodations. Charley's anguished howl of denial, as he realized that Amy was now a vampire, made me smile all over again. Things were going perfectly.

I should've killed him when I had the chance. I've often been told that my sense of humor would be my undoing; I wish I'd listened.

To make a long story short, Charley escaped before Amy could put the bite on him and he and Vincent trapped me in the basement. The tables had turned: half my face had been flash-fried by the rising sun before I'd fled downstairs, and Vincent had driven a broken table leg through my left shoulder. I'd pulled the impromptu stake out, but things continued to go south from there.

Burned and bruised, poisoned by the wood, I wasn't exactly at my best. My faithful Billy was now a smoking pile of bones and green pus on the foyer floor. Amy had only just awoken to her new existence and was still too young and inexperienced to be of much help, even against a pair of rank amateurs like Charley and Vincent. As for Ed... Well, I had no idea where the hell Ed had gotten to. I was on my own for the first time in over a hundred years and I didn't much care for the feeling.

I really hated Iowa, Corvallis, Oak Street, and--most of all -- Charley Brewster.

He and Vincent began to smash the windows that Billy had carefully painted black to keep out the sunlight. The lethal rays flooded the basement, surrounding me with a searing blaze of destruction. Streaming through the broken windows, reflecting from the old mirrors stored in the corners, the sunlight poured in from all sides, inescapable.

I tried desperately to return to my coffin, but Vincent beat me to it and slammed the lid shut with a chilling finality. He said something, gloating, but I didn't hear him; all my attention was concentrated on the heat building up inside my body.

It burst out through my chest like a death ray in a science fiction movie, lifting me in the air and slamming me back against the basement wall. I was pinned against the cinder blocks like a butterfly skewered on a collector's silver pin. Supernatural flames licked at me and I screamed in anger and agony. All I could think of was how close my love and I had come to having the life together we had been so long denied...only to have it ripped away from us, again.

I know, who ever said life was fair? But to let me come this close to happiness and then to take everything away. Life may not be fair, but does it have to be such a bastard?

I struggled against the consuming flames, unwilling to surrender. I had lived for so long, survived centuries of loneliness and torturous secrecy, and even though I frequently despised the way I was forced to live, I didn't want my life to end. Not like this. But there was nothing I could do. The sun was cremating me alive.

I was aware through it all, every second of agony as the sun ate at me, consuming layer after excruciating layer--flesh, blood, bone. With my last remaining breath, I called out to Amy. I think she would have come to me, but Charley stopped her, tackling her to the floor and holding her down until it was too late.

When there was nothing left but ash, the physical pain stopped. But my spirit remains, and with it, the psychic pain. The pain that will never end.

You see, vampires truly are immortal, bound forever to the earth. That is why we must carry our native soil with us and return to it during the day. And while our bodies can be destroyed, our souls are as eternal as yours. Since we can't move beyond the earthly plane, destruction isn't a release, merely the beginning of a new kind of torment.

But of course, you're wondering what became of Charley and the others. You want to hear about their happily-ever-afters.

I'll have to disappoint you, I'm afraid. You see, I'm trapped here in this damned basement, with my ashes and my earth. I only know that after they had watched me burn to ash in the sunlight, Charley and Vincent gathered Amy up in a celebratory group hug. Then they left--and I haven't seen them since. Who knows what they did after that?

I do know this: somehow, Ed survived. I can sense him nearby, frightened and a little crazy, though perhaps no more so than he had been in life.

If he comes here, to the basement, there may yet be a chance for me. And for Amy...

I can wait.

After all, I've got nothing but time.

The End?