Reg the Vampire was in a quandary.
He’d only seconds ago confirmed his attendance to the Annual Fest on Halloween, and had now heard that he was due to be visited on the very same day by his second cousin Yvette.
Yvette lives out of town.
Out of the country, in actual fact; and she only visits for special occasions. She expects everyone to be ready and waiting for her arrival, and requires only one thing when she visits – people do as she says.
He looked at his grandfather clock – the one that ticks twice before tocking – thinking that time itself would give him inspiration for a way out of this problem. He was looking forward to the Fest, and didn’t want to miss it this year, especially after last year.
He’d set off at a more than ideal time, in order to arrive early. He’d arrived at the Mystic Portal by the Olde Oak Tree in Dingle Wood, and touched the bark of the tree to activate the portal. Only, he touched the bark in the wrong place and found himself transported back to the Middle Ages, and in the middle of a great battle. (These Mystic Portals operate similar to lifts only instead of pressing a button for the required floor, touching the bark of the tree, or the brick in the wall – or wherever else the portal is hidden – will transport the user to wherever and whenever they need to go. Sometimes portals overlap, and that is where problems occur, as Reg found out last year.)
So, Reg was in the middle of a muddy puddle in the middle of a bloody battle, dressed up for a night out. He was completely out of time, bewildered, and now wet. Luckily for him, he’d arrived in such a bright flash of light, the ancient warriors thought he was a god arriving to let them feel his wrath, so fled leaving their spears and swords, shields and hammers and injured behind them.
Tending to the injured was a woman. Reg couldn’t believe that in the middle of what was an horrific and savage battle, one person would be there tending to the cuts and bruises of those who had been hurt. He then noticed that she wasn’t wearing the same kind of leathers as the people she was helping. And he then noticed that she was wearing a ruby ring. He recognised the ring. It belonged to his good friend Monique DuPont, and when he looked at this woman’s face, it was her. She had also pressed the wrong piece of bark and had ended up in the middle ages too.
Monique noticed Reg in the puddle, and laughed. She always managed to find something funny in any situation, and this was the funniest thing she had seen for a while.
Once the final casualty had been sorted, Monique helped Reg out of the puddle (Reg could never work out why he stayed in the puddle so long) and they went back to the Oak Tree to reactivate the portal to travel to the correct place.
Time through these portals is relative, so an hour there means an hour passes here, and also an hour passes in the ‘Dimension of the Dark’ where the Fest was taking place. By the time Reg and Monique arrived in the correct dimension, the Fest was well and truly over, and the trolls were tidying up. The Skeleton Master was asleep in his thrown at the end of the great room, with his party hat creased and tilted to the right side of his skull.
Reg, sadly, left the great hall and returned to his bungalow, and was greeted by the two Shawns, his cats. He was determined that he wouldn’t miss the Fest again.
Yvette doesn’t like too much fuss, and she is not too keen on the Annual Fests that the dark brethren and sisterhood rave about year after year. Being the queen to a long forgotten country within a mountainous European range is something she expects people to remember, even though her palace, her state and her people no longer exist. Well, the people do as they are spread all over the world, and her palace is now a hillside cottage in Wales. She still holds on to the title of queen, as it is rightfully hers and has been for the last seven hundred years, and she expects people she visits to treat her as such. Even distant relatives.
So, Reg was in a quandary. Does he miss the Fest to please his queen, who needs to visit him on Halloween…?
The Mansionic Perspective 
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