An Endless Day in a Sunless Town

Epic Fantasy / 5600 words

PREFACE: Ever watched “Groundhog Day”? This story uses a similar premise but with Varushka as the protagonist. How would he deal with something like that? Well, read on to find out!

I have lived among men for over a decade now and while I have grown fond of them, I still cannot stand the sun.

That is not entirely true, I suppose. It would not hurt me, but it is a strain upon my eyes. There is nothing quite like it, nothing so bright where I come from. The Gleaming is a place of soothing darkness and comforting silence. Admittedly, it knows light as well, but it is contained within the confines of its own sphere, bound by powerful spells. I would never go to such a place, nor would any of my kind.

Humans, oddly enough, thrive under this sun. They seem to crave its light and warmth. As if it powered them, gave them the energy to go on. When the skies turn dark, their spirits drop. It is a strange thing, truly.

I crave to be more like them, but sometimes I wonder if I ever can achieve this when I so despise the light.

For my comfort, I have taken to traveling by night. It still is brighter than the Gleaming, but this is a brightness more pleasing to my senses—one I have grown accustomed to. The moon is a soothing companion.

A glance at the sky tells me it will soon be dawn. I must find a spot to sleep. I like to stay close to the mountains whenever I can, as they have caves I can use, but my travels often take me far from them—as they have now. Thick bushes or dense forests are decent, if not perfect, alternatives. But there are none of those here.

I recall a sign on the road announcing a nearby village. Perhaps I can seek refuge there. I quicken my pace.

It is a lively place, filled with joy and music. People are dancing in the street, and none of them seem to notice me as I walk through the crowd. Perhaps they are celebrating something or someone.

The inn is easy to find and the woman at the counter laughs as she hands me the key to a room on the first floor.

Her attitude puzzles me, but she is not alone. Everyone here seems amused, though I cannot perceive the cause of such mirth.

I head up, lock the door, lay in bed, and quickly fall asleep to the distant sound of music.

***

A burst of laughter wakes me, coming from the hall. I sit up and rub my eyes. Look out the window. It is dark outside. What time is it? I must have slept through the whole day.

No matter, I feel rested enough.

I slide out, stretch, wash my face in the basin, pick up my things, and head out.

A man kisses a woman he has pinned to the wall. Their mouths part only long enough for her to laugh. She wraps her arms and legs around him as he lifts and carries her to a nearby door. I watch as he slams it shut with his foot, shake my head, and head down the stairs.

The place is as busy and cheerful as it was earlier.

I motion for a waitress as I sit.

“What will you have, handsome?” she asks.

The phrasing startles me. Humans tend to find me odd, if not frightening. I gently rest my cane against the table as I consider my response. Perhaps it is best to ignore the strange compliment and focus on the question.

“Fresh meat if you have it. Keep it in its blood.” I look up at her smiling face. “Soaking,” I add as an afterthought.

“Sure thing, love. It’ll be a minute.”

I marvel at how unfazed and joyful she remains. And again with the flowery language. Perhaps it is simply in her habit to call all customers in such a fashion. I have heard of such temperaments.

She turns and heads off, almost bouncing as she does so.

I rarely eat—or even sleep—in inns, as humans are not keen on my typical diet. To not see her flinch or cringe at my order makes me wonder.

My gaze wanders around the crowded room. All I see are happy, laughing faces.

When my food arrives, I see two pieces of meat floating as islands in a thick red sea. The smell is off, however.

“What is this?” I ask as she sets the plate before me.

“Marinated goat and garlic in a pond.”

“A pond?”

She giggles. “It’s soup, silly. Tomato, mushrooms, red pepper, and onions.”

I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “No blood?”

“Of course there’s blood! Goat’s meat, isn’t it?”

She laughs as she swings around and dances away. A man at the next table reaches out and slaps her on the butt, which gets another laugh out of her.

I stare at the man who obliviously returns to his conversation, snickering at something someone says, then look down at my plate.

“This is not what I asked for,” I mutter.

My body requires blood. It is not a whim, even less a preference—I rather dislike the taste, in truth. But the craving lingers, always. I once tried not to feed on it for as long as I could. Within four days, I was feeling dizzy and weak and famished, no matter what else I ingested.

I can eat anything, but nothing sustains me like blood does.

These islands, however, do not appeal to me.

Grabbing the cane, I push on its pommel to help me back on my feet, and head for the door.

Outside, it is dark, but there are people everywhere dancing and singing and drinking and kissing.

There is something about this revelry that bothers me, though I could not say what. Besides, who am I to judge? I still know so little about these humans. Perhaps this is not so unusual.

Whatever the case may be, it is not my business. I am only a passing stranger, and so I shall pass.

As I head out of the village, I cross the path of a child and freeze.

The boy has tears in his eyes.

It is such a stark contrast with all those others that it stops me dead in my tracks.

He sees me, yelps, and runs away in fright.

That is not unexpected, and yet it troubles me more than everything else I have witnessed in this place.

I remain there motionless for a long time.

These people mean nothing to me, and yet there is something here that I cannot ignore. They are human, but do not behave like humans. The more I consider what I have seen, the more it dawns on me. How could everyone look so happy? This does not match my previous experiences. If all humans have one thing in common, it is that they are all different.

I turn and look at the partying crowd.

These people all behave the same way. There are no distinctive traits, no unique personalities. I see groping, smiling, kissing, dancing... They all do it. They all enjoy it. They all laugh and sing. There is no sadness, there are no tears...

Safe for those shed by that boy.

I glance in the direction I saw him run—and I see his face staring at me from between two houses. But as soon as I start toward him, he turns and dashes off.

Why is he not affected like everyone else? Is it just him? Is it only children?

I frown as I look back toward the crowd.

Where are the children? I have seen none other.

My steps take me back among the humans. They continue to party, ignoring me for the most part. Every once in a while, a girl grabs my arm and tries to pull me against her. I push her gently away and keep going.

There is no destination in my mind. I seek only understanding. Are there any children here? I must be sure.

Someone grabs my arm—another woman, surely.

As I try to pull away, something heavy smashes against my skull.

I fall to the ground and everything goes black.

***

A burst of laughter wakes me, coming from the hall. I sit up and rub my eyes. It was all a dream, I realize. Only a dream.

Looking out the window, I see it is dark outside. What time is it? I must have slept through the whole day. No matter, I feel rested enough.

I slide out, stretch, wash my face in the basin, pick up my things, and head out.

A man kisses a woman he has pinned to the wall. Their mouths part only long enough for her to laugh. She wraps her arms and legs around him as he lifts and carries her to a nearby door.

I stare as he slams it shut with his foot. This feels oddly familiar. I shake my head and head down the stairs.

The place is as busy and cheerful as it was earlier.

I motion for a waitress as I sit.

“What will you have, handsome?” she asks.

The phrasing gives me pause. At the same time, I wonder why it does. She’s called me that before, after all, hasn’t she? Or had that been in the dream?

I gently rest my cane against the table, a frown on my face as I try to piece my memories together.

“Fresh meat if you have it.” I look up at her smiling face. “Still soaking in its blood,” I make a point to add.

“Sure thing, love. It’ll be a minute.”

Still as unfazed and joyful as I remember. It is disconcerting.

Spinning around, she joyfully bounces away.

I look about the room and only see happy, laughing people...

No children.

That seems somehow significant, though I cannot fathom why.

The woman returns with a plate. When I see two pieces of meat floating as islands in a thick red sea, I look up at her with a frown.

“Is this goat and garlic?”

“In a pond! Indeed it is. You’ve had it before?”

“No.” I grab her wrist as she makes to leave. “Hang on.” I motion with my chin toward the crowded tables. “Where are the children?”

She blinks. “The children?” She points at the window. “It’s night, love, where would you expect them to be?”

Laughing, she slips away, and I watch as a man at the next table reaches out and slaps her on the butt. She giggles and dances away.

I grunt. Too many things here are similar to my dream.

What does it mean?

Ignoring the plate, I stand, grab my cane, use it to push myself up, and head for the door.

Outside, it is dark, but there are people everywhere dancing and singing and drinking and kissing.

There is something about this revelry that unsettles me. I am no expert on human behavior, but I sense there is something unnatural about all this.

And why are there no children?

The woman at the inn implied they were sleeping.

I look up at the night sky.

It is a likely explanation. And yet, I am not convinced.

If I slept through the day, this should be evening. There should be some kids around. Besides, weren’t these streets crowded already when I arrived? Everyone was partying just as hard as they are now. As if they had done so all night. Without sleeping.

Unlike me, humans need to sleep.

I sigh and shake my head. None of this is any of my business. Why should I care? I am only a passing stranger, and so I shall pass.

As I head out of the village, I cross the path of a child and freeze.

The boy has tears in his eyes.

But what strikes me even more is that I know this boy. I’ve seen him before. In my dream. I remember him clearly, though I had not until now.

He sees me, yelps, and runs away in fright.

“Wait!” I call out, but he keeps going and disappears behind some nearby buildings.

Yes, I remember now.

I turn around to consider the partying crowd.

There is something wrong here. I had sensed it in my dream just as I sense it now. Had the dream been a vision or a premonition? I have never experienced anything like this before, so why now? Is there something in this place that affects the humans in one way and me in another?

The answer is in this crowd. It has to be. I resolutely make my way through it, trying to find a clue. For a brief moment, I think I see a familiar face, but it disappears before I can recognize the traits. Hands reach out to me, caress me... I hear someone muttering sweet words into my ear—the kind one would whisper to a lover—and it sends shivers down my spine. I jump away to the sound of laughter... is she mocking me?

The music is so loud, I can feel the beat in my bones.

Sweat runs down my cheeks and I think it is odd because heat does not affect me. Besides, it is not hot. Nor is it cold. It is confusing. My head is spinning. Blurred vision.

Someone grabs my arm. I try to jerk free, but something heavy smashes against my skull.

I fall to the ground and everything goes black.

***

A burst of laughter wakes me, coming from the hall.

I jump out of bed, wide awake, and run to the window. It is dark outside, but the crowd is still there, partying as hard as ever.

It can’t have been a dream. Not twice in a row.

I am trapped in a loop.

How is this even possible?

I hurry to the door, grabbing my things on the way. Barely looking at the couple, I run down the stairs. I spot the waitress in the crowded room but head for the street instead.

Pausing at the door, I look to the right and to the left.

How can I unravel this mess when I don’t even know what I’m looking for? I still think the answer is in this crowd. There was a familiar face somewhere in there... if only I could see it again, perhaps it would help make sense of it all.

I step in, wading through the throng. Hands grab and pull at me, but I go on. The music is too loud, as are the moans of pleasure. Scents linger in the air—not blood, but intoxicating nonetheless. My head spins.

A fear grips me and I turn around, ready to stop a blow.

But all I see is a startled young girl. Half naked. Her surprised look turns into a sultry smile as she presses against me.

“Dance with me, love, would you?” she whispers into my ear.

I push away, not even bothering to answer as my gaze scans the crowd.

There, for a fraction of a second, I get a glimpse of him again.

A man, yes. Blonde. With freckles.

Where have I seen him?

I try to wade my way through to him, but grabbing hands are all over me, pulling at my clothes, tearing them to shreds. Is it frustration I sense in these humans? Hunger? Lust?

The music is so loud, I can feel the beat in my bones.

Sweat runs down my cheeks... Isn’t that odd? There is no heat here. No cold either, for that matter. It is confusing. My vision blurs as my head starts spinning.

Someone grabs my arm. I try to pull away, but something heavy smashes against my skull.

I fall to the ground and everything goes black.

***

A burst of laughter wakes me, coming from the hall.

I sit up in a jolt and stare at the door.

This time, everything happened much faster.

Why?

I did not try to leave this time.

I did not see the boy.

The boy!

Of course.

He is the answer.

Maybe.

I get out of bed, grab my things, and head out. Ignoring the kissing couple, I head downstairs and leave the inn. The music assaults my ears, but I turn and walk away from the crowd.

The child will run away from me, as he did before. How can I convince him to stay and talk? I will reach the spot where I saw him earlier this time. Perhaps I can hide somewhere and capture him before he sees me. It is not the best way to introduce oneself to a potential ally, but I have no better option.

It is near the edge of town, and there are trees here. I find one nearby and hide behind it.

The wait is not long. The child appears, walking despondently up the road, tears streaming down his cheeks. As soon as his back is turned to me, I jump out and grab his shoulder.

He yelps as I swing him around. He tries to flee, but I hold him firmly.

“No, boy. I’m here to help. I won’t hurt you. Think about it. I’m not like them.” I motion toward the crowd with my chin. “You can see that, can’t you?”

He gapes at me, his face white. Gulps. Hesitates. He looks over his shoulder at the party, then back at me.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I am Count Varushka. I stopped here to get some rest, but now I seem to be trapped in a loop.”

“A what?”

“The day keeps starting over.”

The boy seems not to understand. So I am alone experiencing this. How odd. I had hoped he could shed some light on this mystery, but no light is forthcoming. Not yet, at least.

“It matters not,” I say with a dismissive gesture. “What does is that you are not affected by what afflicts them. How is this possible?”

The boy sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Only the adults are in the spell.”

“So it is magic, then?”

“What else could it be?”

I let go of the child, hoping he will not run now that we are talking.

“Can you tell me what happened? How did it start?”

The boy sniffs and wipes his runny nose.

“Two men came to town a week ago—”

“A week?”

“Yes,” the child says. “Both have golden hair. One with a scar, the other with brown spots on his face. They have flutes. One always plays while the other dances and talks to everyone. Ever since they arrived, everyone has been... like that.”

He points to the crowd.

“I see. Where are the other children?”

The boy shrugs. “Some stayed at home, hoping their parents would return. Most of us have sneaked out and taken refuge in an abandoned house in the forest. We don’t want the strangers to find us.”

“And why did you come back?”

“My sister.” He sniffs again. “She stayed. I want to take her with me.”

“Alright. You should go do that. Wait! One more thing. Is there anything special about this village?”

The boy frowns.

“Special?”

“Has anything unusual ever happened here? Do you have someone famous who lives here? Magical items, things like that?”

The frown increases. “The house where we’re hiding...”

“Yes?”

“It once belonged to a wizard. He protected us from the outside world. Then he died. But there is still magic there. It protects us.”

“That is why you feel safe there?”

He nods.

“Very well. Go fetch your sister. I will see what I can do. I’ll come and find you in the forest later. Let your friends know I’m here to help.”

“Thank you!”

He gives me a quick hug before running off.

I’ll never get used to the hugs. That is not something my people do. It is awkward.

I watch him go, then turn to face the crowd.

So there are two of them.

And they were stupid enough to come here, where powerful magic permeates the land. Granted, it is not enough to keep these people safe, but it is enough for me. Not that the flute would have bewitched me—I doubt a human artifact could have such a hold on one such as I—but the wizard’s magic opened my eyes by sending me through this loop. At least, this is what I assume.

I know I’ve seen at least one of the two tricksters—likely more than once. It is now only a matter of hunting him down.

And then I shall deal with him and his accomplice.

I march back into the party.

As I get closer, I can feel the vibrations through my body. And there, in the back, like a distant moan, I finally perceive it. The sound of the flute. So many others have joined in, adding their own instruments, but still the haunting melody at the heart of it all stands out. Now that I hear it, it’s all I can hear. It is mesmerizing, taunting, alluring, begging me to heed its call.

Hands reach out, slip through my clothes, rub at my skin as I walk on. I hear gasps and moans and pants amidst the laughter, but I let none of it distract me. I am fully focused on my task. I study every face I come across, etch it into my brain. Every step takes me closer to the source of the music, my destination. It grows louder—now more ominous than inviting.

Someone grabs my arm, and I twist around with a jerk as I try to slip away, anticipating the blow.

I see a freckled face staring at me as my foot slips and I fall backward.

The back of my head smashes against the ground and everything goes black.

***

A burst of laughter wakes me, and I sit up with a curse on my lips.

This needs to end.

But every time I go into that damned crowd, they get to me before I get to them. But how?

I frown. I suppose I would stand out in that throng, wouldn’t I? Not just because of my appearance, but also from my attitude. I do not act like the others. I do not laugh, or cheer, or dance, or sing... Of course they would spot me a mile away. No wonder they keep taking me out.

If only I could figure out where I’d seen that man...

The guy at the table next to me! The one who slapped the waitress’ butt! That has to be it. He was a blonde, wasn’t he?

I jump out of bed, grab my things, and rush downstairs.

Spotting the table I sat at twice before, I settle down and observe my neighbors.

“What will you have, handsome?”

I recognize the voice, let alone the words, though I do not look at her.

“You don’t have anything I want,” I say distractedly.

“That’s not a nice thing to say to a lady!”

I hear the hurt in her voice, and it startles me. I look up at her. “What?”

“Why would you go and say something like that? Am I not pretty enough for you?”

She leans down to show me her cleavage, batting her eyelids at me.

“I meant the food,” I say with some restraint.

“Thank you for giving me hope,” she says with a wink. “Come see me later, love, when it’s less busy, and I’ll show you a good time, I promise.”

She spins and walks off, swaying her hips.

That’s when I see him, ogling the woman.

He bends, preparing to slap her rear.

I jump out of my chair and hit his hand with the tip of my cane.

“Ow!” he shouts. “What did you go and do that for? We’re all just having fun here.”

The waitress turns and hurries to the man’s side, taking his hand.

“Oh, poor thing! Does it hurt?” She looks at me. “That’s not very nice. What’s wrong with you?”

“He was going to grab your ass.”

“So? Everybody does it. You could too if you wanted to. I’d rather that than you hitting each other.” She pulls the man to his feet. “Come on, love, I’ll get you all fixed up in the back.”

I watch as they go.

The man has blonde hair, but no freckles. There is no point in pursuing this any further.

I realize the room never went quiet, as one might have expected under normal circumstances. But these, of course, are not normal circumstances. They still laugh and sing and drink, oblivious to what just happened.

As I consider my options, it occurs to me that I could slip into a different plane and investigate from there. There are drawbacks to this approach, but I am running out of options. If I could just locate where the flutist is, it would make the rest so much easier. In fact, I could just grab him and pull him into that other plane and dispatch him there.

The more I think about it, the more I like the plan.

Of course, the main advantage that sells it to me is that they could no longer spot me.

I notice that I’m still standing in the middle of the crowded room, staring at the door like an imbecile.

Shaking myself into action, I start toward the door, preparing to phase out.

As my hand reaches for the handle, something heavy smashes against my skull.

I fall to the ground and everything goes black.

***

A burst of laughter wakes me, as it always does. I rub my head as I sit up. It is starting to ache, as if the repeated blows were finally making themselves felt.

What went wrong?

How could I get taken down so quickly this time, before I even entered the crowd?

I had made a scene, that’s what.

Which means...

I swear, jump to my feet, swipe up my cane as I pull the door open—nearly ripping it off its hinges—and lunge into the hall.

The woman has curly brown hair, mischievous eyes, and a sultry smile as she lets the man pin her to the wall. She runs a hand through his blonde locks as they kiss.

I stare at the freckles on his cheek.

He is too busy to notice me, but oh how I see him now!

I hold back the urge to run him through on the spot.

There are two of them.

Better stick with my original plan.

She wraps her arms and legs around him as he lifts and carries her to a nearby door. I watch as he slams it shut with his foot, then head downstairs.

Before I leave the inn, I slip into an adjacent plane. My vision becomes blurry, but the veil between the two is thin enough that it allows me to spy on the realm of men. In theory, one could as easily look from there into here, but to do so would require knowledge humans do not possess—not even their wizards.

I move through the crowd... quite literally, as I am in a different reality. There is no one here, only images, representations of somewhere else. Keeping a sense of what is here and what is not can be tricky, but one gets used to it with enough practice.

The upside is that I no longer hear the music. It does not deafen me or make me dizzy or try to trick me into doing things I do not wish to do.

The downside is that I no longer hear the music. Which makes it more difficult to find its source.

That is not entirely true, however. I hear muffled sounds. Some of the laughter seeps through, and hints of the melody, but nothing substantial enough to help.

No matter.

There is another way, now that I have identified one of the tricksters.

I find a spot near the inn’s door and wait.

He will come out eventually, when he is done with the girl. And then it is only a matter of following him to his accomplice.

And there he is! It did not take so long, as I suspected.

He steps into the crowd and resolutely makes his way through. I keep close to him—which is not so hard in a place of mist and smoke.

Within minutes he reaches a stage, and I marvel that I never saw it. It is huge. Massive. Looms above the crowd. There is magic here. Either it is an illusion or my perception was deceived. I lean toward the latter as an illusion would not carry through to another plane. Still, I doubt such a small village would have such a structure. Likely a spell was cast to produce it as well, though I fail to understand why they would need this. Unless...

The height, of course. That is how their music can reach everyone, everywhere, and yet feel so faint at the same time.

The freckled one pulls out a flute from a pouch at his belt and brings it to his lips. I can now see the other man, just as blonde, standing in the back, playing a similar instrument. The two fall instantly in sync—I can tell from the movement of their fingers. Within seconds, the scarred one stops, slips his flute into a similar pouch, and heads off the stage. He grabs a half-naked girl at the waist and pulls her toward the inn.

Is that all this is? A scam to bed women?

I imagine they also enjoy free meals and lodging.

Well, this ends now.

I slip one hand through the veil, grab the scarred man by the neck, and jerk him through to my side. The girl comes with him and yelps as she snaps out of the spell’s hold. She falls and scrambles back, horror in her eyes.

“Oh gods no, please make it stop!”

My anger grows as I look down upon my prey.

“You do not even make them forget? You are despicable.”

The man is still in shock. He tries to shake me off, but fails.

“Who are you?” he cries out. “Let me go!”

“No.”

I bite down on his neck. Hard. Rip at the flesh.

Blood spurts as he screams and kicks.

I throw his body and it lands four feet away. Let him bleed out.

The girl cries.

“It is over,” I say as gently as I can. “I promise you. Look.”

I turn and head toward the stage. Of course, she cannot see it as I can, but it matters not. What does is what follows.

Again, my hand reaches through the veil, gripping the freckled man’s throat even as he plays. A note goes out of pitch as I pull, nearly ripping his head off. He shrieks as I toss him down. The girl scrambles back in fear.

“You’ve played your last tune,” I say as I close the distance and lean for the killing bite.

The girl screams.

***

How can I keep repeating the same mistakes, over and over? Humans are not like my kin. They do not yearn for the spilling of blood. Rather, it terrifies them. Instead of appeasing the girl, I only antagonized her further. I had to put her to sleep so I could carry her back to the realm of men.

In the village, the music is gone. All I hear are moans and whimpers. There is no pleasure in them, however, only pain and sorrow as the people remember what they have done, what they were forced to do.

I walk into the inn and set the girl gently on a chair.

The room is empty. Except for the waitress.

She stares at me with fear.

That is a look I am more familiar with, though it pains me.

Without a word, I turn and head off toward the forest.

Of course, the boy will not remember me, as our conversation happened in a previous iteration of this reality. As if planes were not confusing enough.

I sigh.

Still, I must carry the news. Let them know it is safe to go back. That their parents need them—perhaps more so now than ever.

The house is not hard to find. So large it looms above the trees. It is ancient, that much is obvious from its architecture.

“You came!”

The boy stares at me through a window.

I stare back.

“You remember me?”

“Of course! You said you’d help. What did you do?”

Perhaps the wizard’s house is outside the loop. Perhaps by returning here after our conversation, the boy retained his memories. I am no expert in such matters, but I gladly accept the gift I am given.

“I stopped the bad men,” I say with a twinge of sadness.

If he knew how I’d stopped them, would he not think of me as a bad man as well? Where was the humanity in my action? Should I have not let the humans judge these men rather than take justice into my own hands? This is not my realm, not my world. I had no right to act as I did.

A crowd of children pours out of the house and surrounds me, looking at me with curious eyes.

It makes me uncomfortable.

The first boy I talked to appears, runs up to me, and hugs me again. Soon there are countless arms around me and I stand there frozen, not knowing how to react.

“Thank you,” says a girl.

“That’s my sister,” the boy explains.

“You got her out.”

He nods.

We talk a moment longer, but I feel out of place.

I must leave.

They wave at me as I walk away.

I do not look back.

The sky is still dark as I set on my path again, still hoping I can become a better person.

Someday, perhaps.

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Enjoy my writing and want more Varushka tales? Check out these stories:

• The Delicate Art of Stealing Shadows (the Count helps a man recover his shadow)

• Mazes Burnt and Ageless Gods (trapped in a maze, the Count faces ancient gods)

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Text (c) 2024 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock images and a picture of my brother as Varushka, edited by me.

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