"Promotion"

Eugene sat hunched at the tiny desk in the corner of the cramped and threadbare bedroom. His fingers swooped and pecked at the chunky, cream coloured keys. He peered through round little spectacles at the fuzzy looking screen, which bore the legend, CURRICULUM VITAE.

He snorted at that, bent his head, and jabbed at the keyboard. The clacking sounded loud in the still room. In fact, it felt as if the noise were rattling through the huge, creaky house, un-dampened by all the heavy drapes and tapestries. He winced, and poked again, more quietly. His fingernails were bitten short.

He had no idea how to do this. It had been a long time since he had dipped a toe in the job market. He wasn't even sure people even used CVs anymore.

His mobile phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, and checked it. It was a text message from his current employer, who was supposed to be sleeping in another part of the house, and who had extremely keen hearing.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING STOP THAT INFERNAL CLATTERING

Eugene winced again, guilt pinching at him with sharp fingers. The boss would have had to get up to get his phone, an ancient Nokia like the one he insisted Eugene have. He'd be cross about that, and would be unbearable after disturbed rest. Eugene tried to pass his fingers even more softly over the keyboard.

His employer wasn't shouting at him. At least, probably not. He rarely sent messages at all, being generally distrustful of technology, but when he did, they were always like that. Gruff, all in capitals, and lacking in punctuation.

He seemed to think it was a kind of telegram, something he considered "new-fangled modern rubbish", and he structured the text accordingly. It had taken Eugene ages to get him to quit putting the word STOP in there after each sentence.

Phone calls were worse. The silly old sod yelled into his ear every time, no matter how patiently Eugene explained he didn't have to.

Eugene rubbed his eyes, which were itching and stinging from tiredness, and from staring at the decrepit monitor. He shifted on the rickety little chair, buttocks aching.

He should sleep. Now was the best time, with the boss settled, to snatch few hours. He chortled again. Isn't that the advice they give new mothers? Sleep when the baby sleeps?

Yes, and fetch the dry cleaning when the baby fetches dry cleaning, look for a job when the baby books for a job...

Having entered his personal details at the top, Eugene paused, thinking. How to get around such a huge gap in his employment history? He chewed his lip.

Skills: lying.

Line by line, Eugene invented an illustrious career, and didn't mention his current employer at all.

Seventeen years he'd slogged away for the old man, and what did he have to show for it? Master had always hinted at Promotion, but this had never materialised. What would happen if Eugene just hung in there, loyal and hoping, until one day he was too old to serve anymore?

The boss didn't even approach him for... you know... that... anymore. No, he liked them young. Late teens, early twenties. These days, Eugene had to find them and bring them here, swallowing jealousy like bile. He could only tolerate the situation at all because the boss never actually turned them. When Master killed them, which wasn't often, it was muggins who had to dispose of the body.


No, this was the right thing to do. It was time to move on. He couldn't be a vampire's familiar all his life.




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Thank you for reading! I'm aware I'm extremely behind with reads and intend to catch up this week 😁😁