The Interview

Here is another story for a Flash Fiction contest. The theme was Immortality, with a 1,000 word limit. It is more of a parody, but I enjoyed writing it.


The house was smaller than I thought it would be: just a small cottage in the middle of a densely wooded area. Beneath a thatched roof, a flickering candlelight faintly illuminated a solitary window. The dirt driveway leading to the hovel was long and winding, with a heavy iron gate at the entrance. The trees, which stretched for miles on either side, stood spectrally under the pale glow of the waning crescent moon. It was all a very eerie sight, but he had mentioned that I was to come at night if I wanted the story. I had contemplated long and hard about coming out here, but in the end, my curiosity prevailed.

I had no trouble getting through the gate since he had sent me the curious-looking key - also of iron, the initials T and B wrought in bronze upon it – within his correspondence requesting me to interview him. The letters he sent me, written in an elegant longhand, were all signed with a single name, Theodore, so I could only presume the initials on the key were his own.

The door opened slightly as I approached, and a small silhouette stood in the doorway. My initial impression was that he was wearing a disguise to keep his mysterious identity concealed, but as I drew near I discerned he was covered in a thick coat of fur-like hair. He had warned me of a condition he had, and of his small stature, but this was unexpected. I stared down at the dwarf-sized figure for a moment before I greeted him, wondering if what I was seeing was real.

“I was beginning to doubt that you would show, Mr. Walker,” he said in a voice almost as quiet as a whisper. “You know, it is not wise to keep a man of my caliber waiting.”

“Your...caliber, sir?” I was dumfounded; the man before me was extraordinarily small and furry, and seemed as harmless as a garden gnome. I thought then that maybe he had some strong political influence, but it was difficult to see him as anything other than a laughing stock.

“I see you are unimpressed at my physical appearance. Very well, then. Please, come in, and I will relate to you how I became what I am today.” In a blur of movement, I was shoved inside the house and the door was slammed shut behind me; Theodore was sitting in an antique leather wing chair next to an empty fireplace. He motioned for me to sit across from him, and I obeyed. Before I could ask a question, he was telling his story, and so I took out my notebook to record it.

“Before I was turned, I led a life of darkness and despair. In my childhood, I was continuously locked in chests and closets by other children of the orphanage. They beat me and bit me and threw me around because I was smaller than they. The matrons never showed an iota of care about this abuse, and refused to listen to my pleas for help. It was a lonely and desolate road to adolescence.

“But then one day, the closet door opened, and a new face appeared. I tensed, bracing myself for the normal poking and prodding and biting that I had become accustomed to. But the mysterious figure only stood there, staring at me sympathetically. ‘Would you like to live forever, young Theo?’ he asked.

“What a ludicrous question, I had thought. Not a day had passed that I hadn’t wished I was dead, and this fool asked me if I wanted to keep living. But before I could offer my retort, he posed another question, one much more intriguing than the last. He knelt down and put his face close to mine. I could see that his eyes were vacant and he smelled faintly of cranberries. ‘How would you like to possess unimaginable power?’ was the question he asked, and of course, I consented.

“At first I was thrilled at the ability to exact my revenge on those wicked people of the orphanage, and I reveled in my newly acquired power. But once they were all dead, I was at a loss of what to do with the rest of my endless life. I wandered the streets of the world, once again alone. I could go anywhere and do anything, but I could not help but feel vacant inside. I had no friends and no family; even my maker had gone off after he turned me.

Theodore paused for a moment. He could see that I was losing interest in his depressing tale. “Do I bore you, Mr. Walker?”

“Oh, no, sir, this is all very interesting. But there is something else about you that I would like to know more about.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, obviously annoyed at my apathy. “Do you wish to know the size of my fangs?”

“Actually, Sir, I think the public would be more interested in how you became a living teddy bear.”

Theodore looked at me bewildered. “What do you think I was just telling you?”

“Uh...excuse me? Weren’t you just telling me how you were a vampire?”

“A vampire? How on earth did you get that impression?”

“Well, I...uh...just thought that-”

“No, Mr. Walker, I am not a vampire. I do not suck people’s blood to survive. I am a teddy bear, given power beyond anything comprehendible, and doomed to an immortal life for the sole purpose of wanting to get back at my childhood suppressors. I contacted you to publish my story, in hope that I would not spend the rest of my miserable, eternal life in solitude.”

“I apologize, sir, I did not mean to-”

Theodore hopped out of his chair and waved a furry paw in the air to cut me off. “Just get out. Go!” he said. Reluctantly, I gathered my possessions and obeyed his command, leaving him to be alone once more.