Brothers Campfire #5 Colby’s Transition

Cudgel in hand, Colby Feldman went to the door.  It was two in the morning and the dog was barking something awful. A heavy block held the door secure as someone on the other side rapped steadily on the other side.

“Colby, open up! We need to talk! It’s me, Otis! Come on, we used to be friends back in the day!”

“Otis? Get out of here you shameless fanged demon. You all tried to turn my son. If I open the door, it won’t be a friendly conversation.

“Colby, you know I wasn’t part of that. I am here for peace. Now, we are pretty certain you killed Cletus…”

“He had it coming. All of you sick night folk have it coming.”

“Colby, consent has always been protocol and we have cleaned our house.”

“Umm, no. Your “protocol” has been missing for at least 15 years. You all have been running around destroying families for as long as I remember. Now get off my property.”

“I am sorry you feel that way, Colby. I have seen some rough things since the transition, and now that I am the president of the local vampire chapter, things will be better.”

Colby’s wife had a bucket and a will. 

“Unlatch that door, Colby. I’ll talk to Otis.”

Colby removed the heavy block and his wife squeezed through the door faster than she could spend cash at the market. 

“Otis, you chose to live the life you are living, and we don’t have time for your lies!”

“My dearest husband said get!” 

“Now get!”

With that, Colby’s wife threw the contents of the bucket on Otis. 

Otis gasped, then he writhed in pain. 



Otis bared his pointy teeth and snarled.

Colby grabbed his wife by the arm and dragged her back inside before she killed Otis… 

Daybreak came quickly for the Feldman family. Getting up for work came even sooner

There were cows to milk, ducks to dunk, eggs to crack, and compost to be turned. 

There were fences to paint, trees to trim, and charcoal to be burned. 

Colby, bleary-eyed and exhausted, took his stool and headed to the barn for milking, but was unable to find his bucket. Frustrated, he walked up the aisle and into the goat pen, the tack room, the grain bin, and the chicken coop, looking for his milk bucket. 

Striking the palm of his hand to his head, he went to the cow stall. If it had been left there, it would need to be cleaned first. Moreen, his cow, was always ready to be milked for she was a motivated milk cow. 

“Hey there Moreen, I gotta find the milk pail, and then you can be milked!”

Something wasn’t right. Moreen just wasn’t so motivated. A glance told him she had already been milked. 

He shook his head. Burning the midnight oil was tough on him and messed with his head. Had he already milked Moreen?

Grumbling, he ascended the stairs to the hayloft. 

He was just about to the top when he noticed his milk bucket sitting haphazardly on a ledge. 

Colby scratched his head and looked around. 

“That’s strange, I don’t remember putting that there or milking Moreen

The bucket was full of fresh warm milk. He was not about to let it go to waste. 

Measuring every step carefully, he marveled at himself for somehow milking the cow and bringing the milk aloft when he stepped on a bat with a broken wing. 

In alarm, the bat screamed a curdling cry, and Colby screamed himself, slipping down the stairs, Milk splashing everywhere.  

There was a cheesy irony that made Colby chuckle. While there was no need to cry over spilled milk, he lay for a second, wheying whether to move or not. He hurt from his head to his dairy air. 

A gate hinge slowly began to creak. Someone was in the barn. A dark figure approached slowly.

Colby tried to get up, but his back told him he couldn’t. Was this a trap? 

He hoped they would just kill him. If he were turned, ending it all in the sun would be hideous, but he would do it. 

In the fleeting seconds when Colby’s life flashed before his eyes, he regretted many things, but not killing vampires.  

Wincing, he closed his eyes and quickly reopened them. This was his home and he would die with his eyes open. 

The looming form seemed to float towards him with a sort of elegance and grace. It wore long robes, but was surprisingly small. It bared teeth bright enough to see in the dark barn and had snakes that bobbed up and down where the head should be. 

True to his words, Colby looked death in the eyes.

“Sir? … Hey Mister? Sorry about that. I am just so thirsty.”


“Oh, where are my manners? My name is Lily. Mister Otis dropped me off and said I would be staying here now. Sorry that you fell.”

Colby looked in disbelief. It was a little girl. 

Author: Benjamin

Benjamin Thiel is a community leader, urban farmer, and author of The Ongoing Tale at Brothers Campfire. He might know a guy...

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