Everything I’m about to say is purely speculation, of course, because would I really be alive to tell you now if I actually knew the truth?

My boss is a vampire.

I’ve been working at Saffrons for almost a year and I’ve been working on this theory for nearly as long. I mean, the evidence is all around. Let’s first start with the lair, I mean shop. It’s a 15th century building, a measly 600 years old to the undead. The shop has loads of windows, but you wouldn’t know it because the majority of them have been boarded up or hidden behind sky high piles of boxes and stock. A not so subtle attempt at shying away from sunlight?

My boss spends most of his time on the highest floor (and the darkest room); under the guise of a shop manager we could assume he is just organising stock, or doing administrative duties in the office, but what we can really be sure of is that he’s training his legions of rafter bats to carry out his sinister bidding!

And what is the one thing he constantly insists upon? “Make sure you tell everyone that we have an upstairs!” What’s upstairs, you may be asking yourself? Well, besides more cards, gifts, and jewellery, your almost certain demise! …Maybe. I would estimate that I tell about 150 people to go upstairs on a daily basis and I’d further guarantee that fewer than half of those people ever come back down.

Now, I wouldn’t suggest that we operate the smallest shop in the world but it’s pretty cosy. It’s a simple matter of physics versus personal space, the number of people that I warmly usher upstairs does not match the number that trickle down. And there is certainly not enough space for them all to remain upstairs. It is my theory, and most logical, that my boss is choosing from these so called “customers” the juiciest and most blood pumping to drain and satiate his ravenous vampire appetite. What does he do with the bodies? Why, he simply puts their deflated corpses in the boxes marked “off season” for why would anyone look there? It is also possible, though less likely, that his wife is a zombie and consumes the bodies of the lifeless, leaving no trace of them at all. This allegation has yet to be supported with any hard evidence, though, and is further disproved by the fact that his wife tans quite well. Something, I’m sure, zombies are not known for.

However, of those lucky few customers who do manage to emerge from the winding passageways of the second floor all come down with the same vacant, if glossy, look; often chanting the same few phrases, no doubt prompted by the proprietor himself, such as “It’s like Aladdin’s cave up there!” or “You could get lost up there,” or scariest yet, “I never should have gone up there!” This last cry is usually followed by the customer gesturing to a bag or two hanging from a forearm; I can only assume carrying lobotomized portions of their own brains, further supporting the zombie wife theory.

How can we explain away the presence of “regular customers?” Simple. As a business man, my vamboss knows the importance of word of mouth advertising. These customers are pawns to draw in other customers (the dinner kind of customers). The logical thing would be to wonder how one would be convinced to bring innocent lambs to the slaughter. Well, logical questions deserve logical answers. Witches. I don’t want to get into it here, in a story about vampires, because we all know that witches and vampires are immortal enemies, but I’m pretty sure my manager is at least part witch. Her partial status also conveniently explains away the conflict of a witch and vampire working together.

You might be looking for evidence at this point, and I’ve got it, in the form of angels. Our shop carries an inordinate amount of angels, especially for a shop that is neither religious in theme nor centred solely around Christmas kitsch. Quite simply, these angels are a symbol of one vampire’s gross over compensation. Nothing says wholesome and totally not undead like a crystal angel holding a heart holding a smaller crystal angel.

Does he have fangs? Well, no, for as we all know in folklore it is never mentioned that vampires have fangs. It’s just one more thing on the long list of glamorised vampire traits used to further differentiate our human selves from these alternative beings. After all, how would society cope if they thought any old Joe on the street could jump out of an alley and suck them dry? So, no, my boss does not have fangs. What does he have? I’m glad you asked.

His skin is as white as a British sky. This could be written off as an attribute to working inside all the time, or simply to being from England – the land of no sun – but if we are honest with ourselves we will surely conclude that his skin is simply devoid of natural blood and therefore as pale as the alabaster figurines he sells.

Not only does he avoid daylight by holding away upstairs all the time, he even goes so far as to keep the shop stocked up on dead or dying light bulbs. For this he is not so subtle, as there is no way I’m to believe the same hallway halogen can burn out fortnightly.

According to vampiresarereal.com my boss also displays many other characteristics of vampirism, such as, always being hungry and thirsty despite adequate supplies, never requiring much sleep, and often fatigued, not that I needed a website to point that out for me.

You may be upset to know that this particular story does not have an ending – at least not yet. But my time working (and observing) at Saffrons is far from over. In the next three months I will be keeping the closest eye on all the goings-on. I can assure you, dear customers, your visit will be safe now that I’m on the case. I may have watched innocently as scores of you walked your fatal walk up that back staircase, but those days are behind me. I will make it my mission to ensure that everyone leaves my shop with just as much blood as when they walked in; even if I have to increase my garlic budget threefold.

I promise I have your best interest at heart. Unless of course my boss catches on that I’ve caught on. I can’t risk losing my job for you. I don’t even know you. That’s asking a lot, don’t you think?

Safe shopping, everyone!