text: [Themes: mirrors, teenage protagonist]
  
  > lie on the bed
  My head is swimming with exhaustion. I have been running on adrenaline for the past twelve hours and it has finally caught up with me.
  
  No longer able or willing to fight I decide to lie down on the bed and give myself the sleep that I so eagerly desire, regardless of whether or not I have completed my task.
  
  Within seconds I am asleep...
  
  As I sleep I dream. In my dream I see the room as though I was a disembodied spirit floating against the ceiling. In my unconscious state I see a hideous apparition appear at the open window. Time seems to slow as the beast clambers through into the room and paces deliberately across the floor towards my slumbering figure. In my dream the horrific creature leans over my sleeping form and, with savage intent, sinks its fangs into my neck.
  
  I wake, in futility trying to scream. It is no longer a dream but reality. The Count is draining the life from my body.
  
  My dying action is to turn my head towards the west wall and wonder why I didn't make more effort to secure the window...
  
  As I sleep I dream. In my dream I see the room as though I was a disembodied spirit floating against the ceiling. I hear the sound of someone shaking the door, trying to open it. I see a small, inoffensive shape crawl through the gap under the door and squeak its way across the room. In my dream the small, dark mass becomes a terrible humanoid apparition standing beside my bed. In my dream the horrific creature leans over my sleeping form and, with savage intent, sinks its fangs into my neck.
  
  I wake, in futility trying to scream. It is no longer a dream but reality. The Count is draining the life from my body.
  
  My dying action is to turn my head towards the south wall and the large metal door that kept me trapped while allowing the vampyre access...
  
  As I sleep I dream. In my dream I see the room as though I was a disembodied spirit floating against the ceiling. I hear the sound of someone shaking the door, trying to open it. I see a creature of some kind make it's way into the room through the gaping keyhole in the door. In my dream the small, dark mass becomes a terrible humanoid apparition standing beside my bed. In my dream the horrific creature leans over my sleeping form and, with savage intent, sinks its fangs into my neck.
  
  I wake, in futility trying to scream. It is no longer a dream but reality. The Count is draining the life from my body.
  
  My dying action is to turn my head towards the south wall and the large metal door that kept me trapped while allowing the vampyre access...
  
  > look under the mattress
  Curiosity, for some reason, leads me to consider whether there might be something under the mattress. With some difficulty I manage to get a grip on the underside of the mattress and heave with all my strength - but my strength has abandoned me. The mattress is abominably heavy, and with no real motivation other than curiosity to drive me I am destined to fail. Breathing heavily, I quickly abandon this course of action and elect to choose a less strenuous path.
  
  > jump out the window
  A desperate thought fills my head. If my mother is right and The Count is weak until he has feasted then maybe depriving him of his food will be enough to prevent him recovering. Perhaps my death will force his?
  
  I catch myself in shock. Suicide? The worst of sins? But desperate times call for desperate measures. My death is imminent regardless, perhaps my sacrifice can buy the freedom of my people. If I no longer have the strength to fight then maybe I have the strength to choose my own fate.
  
  Sick to the pit of my stomach and weary to the point of death I slowly push the window open as wide as it will go; an act that seems to take all my remaining strength. I find within myself, however, the resolve to clamber onto the ledge and stand.
  The blazing sunset seems to me the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen, and without daring to look down I take the step into oblivion and welcome the darkness...
  
  The darkness doesn't last. My eyes flicker open and I am staring into the sky, the stars twinkling in the night-time panorama. I do not have the time to wonder how long I have been unconscious because the first thing that I register in my mind is tremendous pain. I fell to the ground but in the cruelest twist of fate I was denied death. The sharp, agonising stabbing pain in my legs suggests that they have been shattered by the fall. My right arm lies twisted and useless by my side. Dark red fluid smeared over my face obscures my view. As a gulp each breath my chest rattles like dice being rolled in a cup. I try to scream to express my mental and physical torment, but the only sound that I can expel is the feeble mewing of a cat seeking his mother's milk. I do not even have the energy to cry.
  
  Then I catch something on the edge of my hearing. It sounds like...footsteps crunching through the undergrowth. My chest constricts as a figure appears at the edge of my peripheral vision. I cannot even move my head to get a better look, but I do not need to. The figure crouches beside me and a hideous face is thrust into my vision. A black haired elderly man, rotting skin stretched tightly over his skull, leers at me. His breath smells of decaying flesh and as he grins he reveals two razor sharp fangs. A guttural laugh begins in his throat and I finally find my scream. But my scream quickly becomes a bubbling wheeze as The Count begins to savage my jugular...
  
  > enter the fireplace
  I carefully bend down and enter the fireplace, standing once I get inside.
  
  After a few moments of reflection I decide that this is serving no useful purpose. There is nowhere to go from here and it will not function as an effective hiding place. I re-enter the room, brushing my frock down as I go.
  
  > climb up the chimney
  I wonder if it might be possible to climb to freedom through the fireplace. Carefully, I clamber into it and push hard against the sides of the chimney. With an effort of strength I lift my legs and try to find some kind of foothold but there is nothing forthcoming.
  
  After a minute of trying I am forced to admit defeat and remove myself from the fireplace. I gather my thoughts and rest my trembling legs for a second. I lack the strength and ability to escape this way.
  
  > enter mirror
  As a thought forms in my mind drowsiness begins to overcome me. I shake my head to rouse myself, after which the words seem meaningless to me.
  
  > breathe on the mirror
  From somewhere comes the suggestion that I should breathe on the mirror, though from where I know not. It seems so random and unnecessary at this time that I blame it on exhaustion and try to formulate a more rational path of action.
  
  > get the blanket
  There is no need for me to take anything. If I need to use an object then I will do so as appropriate.
  
  > read the letter
  A thought that I don't fully understand instructs me to take a closer look at something that I don't see in the room. What is going on?
  
  > search the bed
  Wary, for it is almost as if the bed whispers a siren song as I look at it, I begin to examine the cot. The blanket is tucked in tightly but yields to a sharp tug from me. I find nothing unusual under it. The mattress is thick and tightly packed with soft and springy innards. It would be easy to sink into it and forget all of my troubles. As I lift the pillow a small piece of paper wafts out from underneath it and floats gently to the ground. I replace the pillow and turn my attention back to the room.
  
  > read the note
  I reach down and take the piece of paper in my hands. I force my gaze to focus on the neat handwriting that has been marked on the paper. The message reads...
  
  Marika. I am unable to say goodbye to you as I would wish to. I want you to gaze into your own beautiful eyes and breathe yourself a goodbye from me.
  
  The paper drops from my limp grasp and settles again on the hard floor. This message was clearly meant for me to find, but who left it? And why? My head aches but I have the feeling that within the message is a hidden meaning that I must endeavour to find.
  
  > breathe on the mirror
  Driven by a sudden flash of inspiration I move over to the mirror and, as the message on the paper predicted, find myself gazing into my own eyes.
  
  Prompted by the rest of the message I breathe in deeply and exhale over the mirror. I repeat the gesture. As the mirror mists over I notice marks; marks where the mirror is not fogging up. My heart skips a beat as I continue to breathe out over the rest of the mirror, revealing more and more of what seems to be a hidden message.
  
  By the time that I have finished I am feeling light-headed and unsteady on my feet, but I appear to have uncovered a message.
  
  I commit it to memory as the mirror slowly clears.
  
  > open the door with rod
  I grab the iron rod from the floor and charge at the door.
  
  Screaming with rage I bring the rod round in an arc and into contact with the door with as much power as I can muster. There is a deafening clang and the rod is jarred from my hands and thrown across
  
  > hit the fireplace
  the room, just missing my head. I stumble back, hands shaking and ears ringing.
  
  I am not the violent type.
  
  > look at the hair
  Driven by some unknown prompting I begin to run my hand through my hair. As my finger touches something sharp I withdraw it hastily. A second, more cautious check reveals a hairpin that shouldn't be there. Unbidden, the memory comes to me of my final meeting with my mother. As we parted she touched my hair. At the time I thought it nothing more than a tender gesture but it seems that she had ulterior motives. Thanking God for her ingenuity I place the hairpin carefully on the shelf above the fireplace and ponder on a use for it.
  
  > Lock window
  I reach out and take the hairpin from the shelf. The hairpin is too small to use on the door so I make my way across the room to the window and, having pulled the window so it is as shut as I can make it, I begin to work on the lock.
  
  My hand is shaking through exhaustion and I do not rightly know what I am doing but God is with me. After a few moments of fumbling and twisting there is a tiny click. I remove the hairpin from the tiny keyhole to see that my labour has bent and warped it. I then hesitantly push the window. It remains firm. Again I try, this time with as much force as I can muster in my weakened state. The window does not move. I have successfully secured it against The Count. Hopefully the thick glass will be sufficient to thwart his entry.
  
  I respectfully place the hairpin back on the shelf and ponder my next move.
  
  > put the blanket under the gap
  A flash of inspiration strikes me and with a great sense of urgency I yank the thick blanket from the bed and pull it over to the door. The gap under the door is nowhere big enought for a human to crawl under but until I have a better understanding of what The Count is capable of I will err on the side of caution.
  
  The blanket is thick and heavy, and with some effort I manage to force it under the door making a barrier of sorts. As it stands nothing will be able to come through the breach and I pray that The Count will lack the necessary strength to remove it swiftly.
  
  > Lift flagstone
  There are many flagstones in the floor and they all look alike. I wouldn't know which one to lift, if any, without prior investigation.
  
  > examine the floor
  The tightly-packed, perfectly square flagstones are cold and hard under my bare feet. I kneel and run my fingers across the stones, searching for something unusual. My breath catches in my throat as my fingers stumble carelessly across a flagstone that seems to be slightly raised in comparison to its neighbours. I check again. This flagstone is the twin of the others except for the fact that it is definitely loose. However, it's too heavy and my fingers are too thick to prise it up. There must be something in here that can help me!
  
  > Lift flagstone
  I decide to try and move the loose flagstone and it occurs to me that the iron rod might be perfectly suited to this task. I grip it tightly and slowly work the flat end into the thin gap between the flagstones.
  
  When I believe that I have inserted the rod as far as I can I take a deep breath and begin to apply pressure. Lifting the stone is much easier than I thought it would be and within a few seconds I have managed to tip it enough to prise it out of the floor.
  
  I cast the rod aside and begin to wonder what, if anything, might be contained within the dark cavity that I have uncovered...
  
  > look in cavity
  I lie beside the hole in the floor and, with due prudence, put my hand into the darkness.
  
  I have to rely purely on my sense of touch to discern if there is anything of interest in the hole. For a few seconds all I am able to feel is the cold, wet density of damp stone and a soft breeze, but after a moment of maneouvering I brush against something rough and soft. Nervously I grab the object and begin to pull it towards me.
  
  As I do so I hear a tinkling noise. I pause as the sound moves away from me, but it is too late. I listen as something metallic slithers away, sounding like it's falling through a fissure below me. There is a further moment of silence before something clatters to the ground on the level below me. My imagination ponders the events that these sounds proclaim but I am not quite sure what to make of them. After this second of contemplation I continue my action and pull the object that I have grasped into the light.
  
  I climb onto my knees with my prize, which appears to be a grubby old rag. As I unfold it a roll of parchment falls to the floor in front of me; the sole inhabitant of the cloth. I toss the rag to one aside, as it appears to have had no other purpose than to serve as a container for the parchment. I wipe my hand across my tired eyes and consider my next decision.
  
  I yawn. I am finding it difficult to fight off sleep.
  
  > put the candle in the hole
  I carefully take the candle across the room and kneel down beside the hole. The flickering flame allows me to see something that looks like a piece of cloth that I could probably reach.
  
  I yawn. I am finding it difficult to fight off sleep.
  
  > examine the cloth
  I feel the urge to examine a rag. I am do not see anything that fits that description. I push the useless urge away.
  
  > reach in the hole
  I lie beside the hole in the floor and, with due prudence, put my hand into the darkness.
  
  I have to rely purely on my sense of touch to discern if there is anything of interest in the hole. For a few seconds all I am able to feel is the cold, wet density of damp stone and a soft breeze, but after a moment of maneouvering I brush against something rough and soft. Nervously I grab the object and begin to pull it towards me.
  
  As I do so I hear a tinkling noise. I pause as the sound moves away from me, but it is too late. I listen as something metallic slithers away, sounding like it's falling through a fissure below me. There is a further moment of silence before something clatters to the ground on the level below me. My imagination ponders the events that these sounds proclaim but I am not quite sure what to make of them. After this second of contemplation I continue my action and pull the object that I have grasped into the light.
  
  I climb onto my knees with my prize, which appears to be a grubby old rag. As I unfold it a roll of parchment falls to the floor in front of me; the sole inhabitant of the cloth. I toss the rag to one aside, as it appears to have had no other purpose than to serve as a container for the parchment. I wipe my hand across my tired eyes and consider my next decision.
  
  > put the rag in the door keyhole
  I remember a rumour that The Count possesses the ability to change his shape. The keyhole in the door is sizeable, possibly big enough to allow him entry through it.
  
  With this in mind I scoop up the rag that I retrieved from under the floor and move purposely over to the door. Using all my strength I cram the rag into the keyhole until I am sure that it will no easy task to remove it. I can only pray that The Count will not be resourceful enough or strong enough to excavate it.
  
  > examine the door lock
  I examine the keyhole in the metal door that obstructs the exit. It is the largest keyhole that I have ever seen, almost big enough for me to put my slender hand through. Almost big enough, but not quite.
  The best I can do is put three fingers in it. Bending down and peering through it reveals to me the dark stairwell just outside this room. So close to freedom and yet so far...
  
  > wait
  I wait for my death.
  
  > Sleep
  My head is swimming with exhaustion. I have been running on adrenaline for the past twelve hours and it has finally caught up with me.
  
  No longer able or willing to fight I decide to lie down on the bed and give myself the sleep that I so eagerly desire, regardless of whether or not I have completed my task.
  
  Within seconds I am asleep...
  
  As I sleep I dream. In my dream I see the room as though I was a disembodied spirit floating against the ceiling. I picture the sound of a rustling wind that begins near me, up in the roof, but moves along and down until it seems as if it comes from the walls. It moves closer and closer and closer to my sleeping figure until it seems to burst from the fireplace in the form of a small bat. In my dream the small, dark mass becomes a terrible humanoid apparition standing beside my bed. In my dream the horrific creature leans over my sleeping form and, with savage intent, sinks its fangs into my neck.
  
  I wake, in futility trying to scream. It is no longer a dream but reality. The Count is draining the life from my body.
  
  My dying action is to turn my head towards the north wall and the fireplace from whence my killer came...
  
  > Light parchment
  It suddenly occurs to me that the parchment could be very useful, just not in the way that was originally intended. I scoop the parchment from the floor and hold it over the candle on the shelf for a second. It catches and produces a reasonable flame. I then bend down and cast the burning parchment amongst the pyre that I have constructed in the fireplace.
  
  I pray for it to produce flames amongst the wood and, after what feels like an eternity, I am heartened to see that the wood is indeed burning. I linger for another anxious minute to ensure that the blaze will continue and before long I am coughing on a plume of smoke.
  
  I throw the candle onto the fire for the sake of it and rub my weeping eyes. I am feeling warmer already, and my body is driven even closer to the dangerous state of slumber.
  
  > Sleep
  My head is swimming with exhaustion. I have been running on adrenaline for the past twelve hours and it has finally caught up with me.
  
  No longer able or willing to fight I decide to lie down on the bed and give myself the sleep that I so eagerly desire, regardless of whether or not I have completed my task.
  
  Within seconds I am asleep...
  
  As I sleep I dream. In my dream I see the room as though I was a disembodied spirit floating against the ceiling. I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairwell below me, getting closer and closer. There is a pause and sound of rushing wind. Then something slowly flies into the room from a hole in the floor. In my dream the small, dark mass becomes a terrible humanoid apparition standing beside my bed.
  In my dream the horrific creature leans over my sleeping form and, with savage intent, sinks its fangs into my neck.
  
  I wake, in futility trying to scream. It is no longer a dream but reality. The Count is draining the life from my body.
  
  My dying action is to turn my head towards the floor, cursing myself for overlooking something so obvious...