Fan Fiction

"The wheel of time has told us that 'Death comes for us all.'" Or was that Splinter the rat? It's not important. However, another young lad to grace my library brings you a tale in the same vein. The Belmonts we know always stand up to Dracula and his greatest ally--the Grim Reaper, bringer of death. But these inevitable confrontations bring about a burden so deep that the scared little child inside yearns to fight the urge to stand up to it. Where does it spawn? Well, let's peek into the mind of Sam Mills as he shows us this burden from the point of view of a 12-year-old Richter Belmont."

Death Comes To Us All

By Sam Mills

The water flowing down the stream was cold and chilling. The night was windy, and the air was freezing. Yet, Richter Belmont sipped it up, trying to cool the burning sensation in his tired lungs. He'd been running for so long, he didn't know how far he'd come-or if it was far enough to escape what he had just seen.

A few moments ago, the young twelve year old boy had been heading home after a village social gathering. His parents home was on the edge of town, and he was heading down some empty streets on his way there. Taking a shortcut lead him to the strangest of sights, something that immediately terrified him: death.

It wasn't the true form of death, he knew. It was something else, as if death were an old man, with a long wavy cloak and a dark face with skin that looked sunken in. Or perhaps, he had no skin at all. Whatever the form, he knew it was it, standing there without his feet touching the ground. His purple rags majestically waved in the soft breeze. He was almost beautiful...almost inviting.

Richter wasn't too brave, but he was able to muster a few words. "Is it...time...for me?"

The reaper didn't speak. He just stared at him with invisible eyes in dark sockets. Though he couldn't see them, he knew they were there, piercing him deeply. The reaper extending his arm out, and a large sickle appeared in his hand. Richter gasped, and death came forward.

"No, it's not me you want! I'm a kid!"

The reaper spoke, in a voice that resembled a snake, "Deatttthhh...comes to you all!"

That was the point where Richter ran. He didn't turn back or stop, and ran out of the town and into the countryside. The thought of dying scared him terribly. He had self proclaimed it as his worst fear. So why was it that death had to come to him of all people?

After a few minutes, he finally dared to look back. Death was no where to be seen. That was when he found the steam nearby. Then, he collapsed into the river...

...Richter found himself standing on the mass of a great ship. The ocean was roaring, the sails were flapping loose, and the moon was shinning so bright, he was blinded by it. He looked away from the light, but it only seemed to get brighter. Why couldn't he close his eyes? He heard a horrible laugh, so he looked up. In the bright light, he could make out a figure; it was a giant man.

A booming voice came, saying, "If you die before I wake, the world will be mine to take!"

Richter looked up, and saw the reaper flying around above the ship. "Your ship is sinking!" the reaper cried.

Richter didn't know what to do. How did he get here? Why couldn't he breath? The stream....

He woke up, and found his head emerged in the water. It was so cold, he couldn't feel anything. He didn't know if he could move. All he could do was lay there, feeling his mind disconnecting from it all. The only sensation he could make out was in his legs.

With that, he kicked one foot into the soil, and with that one foot alone, pulled the rest of his body out of the water. Coughing water out of his lungs, it was a few moments before he took a breath of the chilly air. The air filled his lungs, the same feeling as a newborn baby taking his first breath. The feeling started to come into his body, and life was returning to him.

After he was able to stand, he got up, and pulled off his wet shirt. Marching back to town, he kept in mind what he knew was the destiny of his family. The ancient Count Dracula knew what he wished he were not: a savior of that age. Richter was the one who was going to have to save the world. "You can't change the history, Dracula...even if it's the history of things to come!"

When he arrived home, the town was quiet. He crept quietly into his house, but his mother was there waiting for him. "I thought you'd be home from the festival an hour ago," she said, very displeased. Debating a moment whether or not to tell her, he just nodded and went to his room. "Don't you want to tell me where you've been?" his mother asked.

He stopped, and told her, "Father always said the Belmonts were a cursed bunch. I meet part of that curse tonight, and I don't want to talk about it."

"I see," his mother said, nodding. "What if I told you that I didn't believe your fathers rhetoric, despite my love for him?"

Richter looked into his mothers eyes. Immediately she shuttered, for they were not the eyes of her son. Rather, they were they eyes of a man. Without saying another word, Richter left his mother and went to bed.

As he laid there in the dark, waiting for sleep to come, he had one more vision. The image of Dracula in the moons light came as a vivid sight, one that continued on without his control. The face of the Count came into his, and the gave him one warning: "You love me, for I am the only thing that will one day give you purpose. And I will make sure I stay that way...you cannot love another!"

"I love nothing..." Richter said. "So I cannot love you, even to love hating you! I cannot love your ways, even if I did agree with them!"

"Perhaps the same could be said of all...religions..."

The dream ended, and Richter realized he'd slept the whole night. He jumped out of bed, and ran outside, ready to embrace the sunlight. What he really loved was the light. And everything that came with it. Perhaps what he wanted most of all was to not worry about any of it. He just wanted to be a kid, and go play with his best friend, Annette. "God forbid I should fall in love,"

Richter thought.

The End