The Miners

The sun was setting and the people of the night were beginning to stir. Their movements were slow but co-ordinated, once they had the first fix they would be ok.

The overseer walked down the line presenting each with a bottle of blood.

“This is your supply for the first quarter, consume it wisely.” He snapped. He checked that the iron cuffs were still attached. He then cracked a whip and ordered them to work and they made their way to the pit. The overseer licked his lips, tonight would be a good haul from the mine. His thought was interupted by the arrival of a horse and carriage. It was a ceremonial choice rather than a standard method of transport. The driver jumped down and opened the door, a well dresses man emerged, it was lord Goldsmith himself.

“I see that the productivity is very high on this pitch,” he stated. “What is your secret?”

The overseer smiled, “I use the night people. We capture them in daylight and defang them, then we starve them of blood and cuff them in iron. Even in that weakened state they are stronger than a worker.”

Goldsmith smiled, “it is a good thing you do. We know how strong they are.” He beckoned the overseer to the carriage. “I want to show you something.” The overseer approach.

“What is it sir?”

Goldsmith let loose a grin, a broad toothy grin.

The workers return from their shift and were greeted by the sight of Goldsmith, “my fellows, I have a gift for you.” He opened a nearby barrel, in it was the lifeless body of the overseer, awash in a sea of blood. “Drink my friends, and grow strong.”

The Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre Challenge: Vampire


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