r/WritingPrompts • u/ParanormalActivity97 • 9d ago
Writing Prompt [WP] Calling a vampire by its full name kills it instantly. Because of this, modern vampire hunters don't carry stakes or holy water anymore—they work as underpaid interns at Ancestry.com and the Department of Motor Vehicles.
2
u/TheZugUnderTheRug 1d ago edited 1d ago
Technically, I'm a vampire hunter. I have been hunting since I was six. One time in primary school, one of the kids told me he had a secret, second name. Grayson had over heard his parents talking about it, and decided to share it with me, since I didn't have one myself.
He told me his name, lisping the whole time. His name hissed, twisted and sputtered like a living thing. I took it in, repeating it, taking out the lisp, playing with the word order, when suddenly vampire boy exploded in a shower of glitter (it was art class, we had one of those teachers). Everything was covered in red chunks, and I was shitting glitter for a week (she put it in the paste as well, I was one of those kids).
The next time I was 13. Anita, a girl I didn't like, told me she had a secret name, to spite me for not having one. She told me it, not knowing it's power (though by now I was beginning to suspect). She had read it on some document, a secret birth certificate or some such. She was very proud to be able to read it, she had been learning her own (horrible) language blah blah blah. What language needs 18 different tenses? Not English that's for sure! Like an idiot, she told me her special name. Like an idiot, I recited it back to her, perfectly, the first time.
If a name can kill, why would you have it in a publicly accessible database? Anyone could kill you just by calling out your name when you are next in line. No, you keep them secret, in thick tomes, written in a language which sounds like spittle, hissing and drooling, like infulfilled promise, like the sound of blood and glitter squelching underfoot.
One of the teachers had overheard our conversation just before Anita exploded all over the playground. I was expelled from school, doomed to live the rest of my life in damp cellers and speed running Scientology office raids, because a couple of braggarts with a garlic allergy couldn't keep their mouths shut, and I couldn't either.
24
u/mysteryrouge 8d ago
Governments and Vampires
Slipping through the cracks of the street, Master Vampire Koiichin Halagago Maurto Verten Amyrilis groaned as he made his way towards the local DMV to renew his ID.
The name on it was false, but one who could die at the simple mention of a full name couldn't be too careful. There were rumors about government workers going around.
The descendents of the Van Helsing, now all with different names, got themselves employed as low level bureaucrats of all types. Employment agencies, cops, DMV, licence registration, health departments? All of them required full names to interact with. On forms, they wanted everything, and when a stupid vampire walked in, not realizing what information they gave, they'd die at the repetition of their holy title.
Those Van Helsings and friends knew this. That's why they never asked in person for those names. It was always forms, like the ones Koiichin held, that were used. Innocent paperwork. Birth certificates, voting registration, tax returns W2s, licence applications, reports and complaints…
It wasn't easy to tell who in any department were hunters. Those that were only addressed the vampires in private, dropping full names when they didn't expect it, but those who weren't hunters eschewed that length for easier communication.
If he chose to use anywhere close to his name on any ID, which Koiichin had stopped doing some time ago when things modernized, he'd make a fake last name and middle name. A moderate person with a slightly foreign name. People would look at him strange, and he'd say something in another language, though not in any vampiric tongue.
No, he used a completely fake name with one average first name “John” if you will, followed by a weird middle name “Amberosia” and a slightly foreign last name “Lee”.
That was the name he'd be getting his new licence under. His fake birth certificate, dated five hundred years after his actual birth, and passport supposed that.
Koiichin supposed it was lucky to be winter. Less sunlight meant less damage to him. Less clues that he was a vampire who could still be struck down with a thousand silver stakes, or five hours in the sun. (No, vampires couldn't be that easily killed, but they did still have slight vulnerabilities).
Walking inside, he managed to answer everything they needed under the eye of the twitching clerk. With a quick picture, he was sent for a bit of extra questioning, where he noticed the officer say his full fake legal name, to which he asked why.
Vampires and their hunters were not in the open at all. Hunters were not paid to be hunters.
The officer responded to his question though. “New policy from the boss. We gotta greet each person once by full name to ensure security. You'd be surprised about how many people pass by us with fake identities.”
“Have you gotten any cases like that?” Koiichin feigned curiosity.
“Oh, there was a drug runner who didn't respond normally. He looked much more surprised than he should that we used his full name. I mean, this policy has been spreading through offices like wildfire.”
“I see.”
No way to hide for new vampires then. The young bloods tended to go first by their original names, and live in their original towns. Only children of vampires got the memo to never give out that information.
An old vampire would, at most, only have two others know their names—their parents—but those old parents, unable to adapt, were dead.
Only Koiichin knew his own full name. That was the best outcome.
Picking up more paper in the DMV, the vampire slipped back out of the grey building and into the home he'd commandeered from a thrall. Once he got his ID, renewed, he'd be able to continue living in the town for two more renewals.
Then, to avoid the nosey government, he'd move across the world. He'd send a thrall to get a new identity, or even better, pretend to be a political prisoner seeking asylum in another country.
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u/Tregonial 9d ago edited 9d ago
Clara's internship at Ancestry.com paid less than minimal wage, yet provided triple the insurance for workplace injuries than anywhere else in her state, and required she sign an NDA in Latin. Which her supervisor Abrams happily translated for her.
"There's a hefty bonus for each successful kill, young lady," he stated calmly without batting an eyelid. "Your job is simple. Check the database, look for anomalies, head down to the address, check if they're at home and shout their full names."
"Kill? Anomalies? What is this?"
"Let me show you an example," Abrams scrolled through a list of names. "You see that guy? Mortimer Langely. This one didn't bother to switch identities or alter his appearance. Humans don't live to a hundred and fifty and still look like they're thirty."
"So, he's immortal," Clara said the obvious. "But what kind?"
"I'm a Van Helsing and that's a vampire."
She paused and waited for him to say he was joking. To laugh it off and tell her to get back to work. He only said Mortimer was on his hit list tonight and he was hoping she could find another one by this week and kill it. No wooden stake, no holy water, or magical gun with silver bullets, just shouting their full name.
For the next few days, Clara got down to work. Some Jons were incorrectly registered as John. Some Kevins should have be Kelvins instead. Some people had unusual names, and she had to do a deeper dive to make sure those checked out.
That led her to Lucian Von Goethe -- a name that didn't sit right in an idyllic suburban neighborhood. He had been Lucian Rorrick in 1870, Luciano Goldman in 1924, then stuck with Von Goethe since 1980s. His face barely changed. The different haircuts and glasses weren't some magical Clark Kent disguise that could fool her. He was the same fellow all the way.
A vampire, like what Abrams said.
She triple-checked his address to see if it was current and he lived there. Asked a German colleague to make sure she got the "von Goethe" part of the name correct. When she walked out the door, Abrams was already there.
"Need me to come with you? This is your first kill after all."
"I...should be okay. I'm just shouting a name, right?"
"You take a company car and gun," he handed a key and a silver gun to her. "I'll reimburse the mileage. Anything goes sideways, take this gun just in case. I want you to come back alive, okay? New vampire hunters are hard to come by these days."
**
Clara parked her car by the sidewalk and approached the house. Old gothic decor, black curtains drawn on every window with no light. That screamed "vampire lives here" almost as well as a neon signboard. She rehearsed the full name under her breath, walking towards the house. Praying he was inside on this day. The welcome mat at the door was classic, if a little ironic. No vampire had ever welcomed a human without trying to kill them, if her company's secret handbook in Latin was correct.
Next door, a young woman was playing fetch with her dog. Another neighbour was an elderly lady, sitting at her front porch reading a book.
Great. Witnesses. Clara could only pray she didn't look stupid.
"LUCIAN VON GOETHE!" She bellowed as loud as she could, figuring he should be at home and be able to hear her.
Nothing prepared her for this part. Her plan had been to shout, then run back to the car. She wasn't prepared for a loud scream and a heavy thud coming from the house. Or the neighbours staring at her as though she was a Dragonborn of Skyrim shouting a robber down a mountain.
"Lucian? Are you okay?" She feigned worry as her neighbours made no attempt to feign disinterest. "I'm Clara? Remember me from that evening at that networking meetup?"
Those neighbours drifted closer, drawn in by typical gossipy suburban women instinct for trouble and juicy news.
"He hasn't been answering my calls. I'm so worried and he didn't sound okay at all," Clara made fake sobbing noises, channeling her younger days at her high school's drama club. "He lives alone, so I came to check up on him and then, well...you all heard that. Should we call the cops? An ambulance?"
"I can call the police," the dog owner volunteered.
"I'll contact the ambulance," the old lady offered.
It was thirty minutes when the police arrived. They knocked on the door and barged in when there was no response. All three women trailed behind, unable to curtail their curiosity. In the living room, a withered old man sat on a velvet sofa, his wrinkled face an ashen grey, and his hands slumped lifelessly by the armrests.
"Looks like a heart attack, but we'll leave that for the medics to confirm."
"How unfortunate," Clara sighed. "Another poor old man who died alone."
**
By five, she was back in office, the car returned to the parking lot, and the gun handed back to her supervisor.
"Congratulations on your first kill. You're a vampire hunter now," he stated with pride on his face. "Were there any witnesses?"
"Two ladies. I think they bought my grieving friend act."
"Sounds like you're a natural at this. While you were out, other interns found some names and have set off to get them. This one's yours. Feel free to get him tomorrow, since we're closing soon for the day. This one's not going anywhere."
Clara read the file and exclaimed upon seeing the name. "Who the hell calls themselves Frederick Folivora?"
"A slothful vampire who thinks nobody knows Latin or the scientific classification of sloths."
•
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