The excursion steamer brought us from Constantinople to the shore of the island of Prinkipo and we disembarked. The number of passengers was not large. There was one Polish family, a father, a mother, a daughter and her bridegroom, and then we two. Oh, yes, I must not forget that when we were already on the wooden bridge which crosses the Golden Horn to Constantinople, a Greek, a rather youthful man, joined us. He was probably an artist, judging by the portfolio he carried under his arm. Long black locks floated to his shoulders, his face was pale, and his black eyes were deeply set in their sockets. From the first moment he interested me, especially for his obligingness and for his knowledge of local conditions. But he talked too much, and I then turned away from him.
A very good story for its brevity. Set on a Turkish holiday island, the descriptions, characterizations and moody atmosphere are surprisingly good for something so short.
It's not a spoiler to mention that no one sucks blood.
Not really a vampire story, but it is an original supernatural short story. The ending is good, but the choice of words and sentences could have been better, so as not to appear abrupt.
This tale from the early part of the 20th century is part travelogue of Prinkipo, a Greek island, part traveler's memoir of the interesting party he travels with, and part vampire tale with a rather odd, artistic vampire.
The story is short and the ending is abrupt, but does bring a different aspect of the vampire legend.
Good short horror story about an artist with a supernatural ability.