Alara Alara The Place

The sky was dark and clouded, no stars in the sky, and a general impression of pale pink and orange overlaid on the gray and black, light pollution from the streetlights reflecting off the clouds. A pale, lanky man with light brown hair parked his car on the street and went to the door of one of the townhouses, climbing up a short flight of stairs. He pressed the doorbell. The sound of “Westminster Chimes” rang out inside.

Within a minute, a plump woman in her 30’s, with tan skin and thick black hair in a short wavy cut framing her face, opened the door. “Hello! Come in!” She stepped backward, allowing him to come through. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Some cold water if you have it,” he said, sitting down on the soft leather couch. There were magazines strewn all over the coffee table in front of him. He glanced briefly down at them, and then back up, as the woman bustled off to a door on the right of the room, went through it, and came back with a paper cup full of cold water.

“Shall we go back to my office?” the woman asked.

The pale man pulled out his phone and looked at the time. “I guess it’s appointment time, so might as well.”

He got up and followed her into her office. It was papered with certificates she’d earned as a therapist, and children’s drawings. Possibly her kids’, or possibly children who were patients. He’d never asked.

She sat down in a chair next to her desk, so there would be nothing between them once he sat down in the comfortable chair across from her desk… but he didn’t.

“I feel like I need to be more honest with you,” he said, wringing his hands nervously as he remained standing. “Like… I’ve tried to do this without telling you the whole truth, but I feel like you’re not going to be able to advise me about this unless you know at least the basics behind my issue.”

The therapist nodded. “I agree. You’re definitely not going to get as much out of therapy if you keep important information about your life to yourself, if it has a direct bearing on your issues.” She leaned forward slightly, her hands flat on her thighs, looking up at him. “If you’ve kept it secret this long, it must be something that you’re very anxious about. I hope you understand that this is a space without judgement. Whatever the secret you wanted to share with me, I’m not going to look down on you or think differently of you.”

He shook his head. “No, but you might have me thrown in an asylum for being out of my mind.”

She laughed slightly. “That’s… not exactly how it works anymore. Television and movies tend to be behind the times for dramatic purposes, but if you’re not an immediate threat to yourself or others, no one can commit you to a mental hospital against your will, no matter how… unusual the things you say are.”

“Oh!  Well, no.” He sat down. “I’m not an immediate threat. To anyone. Not anymore, anyway.”

“Not anymore?” Her eyebrows went up.

“Yes, well, that relates to what I wanted to tell you. You see… I’m a vampire.”

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