 Everybody knew Old Miss Robbins was a vampire. Our parents said that we were just being paranoid, but we had evidence. The first piece of evidence was that she almost never left the house and never during the daytime. The second piece of evidence was that she always dressed in black. The most compelling piece of evidence was that Billy Atkins said he saw her watching the sunrise on her porch one time, and when the sun came up she clutched her chest and ran inside. It hadn't been so bad at first, having a vampire in the neighborhood. We knew that we were safe in the daytime and we'd be locked in our houses at night. And everybody knows that a vampire can't come in unless you invite it. But then Miss Robbins began to venture out of the house more often. She'd only go out at night and she'd only go as far as the lawn. She did the same thing every time. She'd stand there staring out into the night, not moving. Then slowly she'd reach into her pocket and pull out her keys, rattling them with a back and forth motion of the wrist as if she were playing with an invisible baby. Sometimes she'd stay until the sun came up and then she'd clutch her chest and run inside. This went on for a couple of weeks and then she started getting closer to the street. First she was 15 feet away, a few nights later she was 10, and then she was 5, and every night she'd rattle the keys harder until the neighbor's dog began to bark at her. But old Miss Robbins didn't pay the dog any mind, she just stood there rattling her keys. Just when Billy Atkins came up with a mission, we'd sneak into Miss Robbins' apartment at night and get a picture of her coffin. All vampires sleep in a coffin, Billy said, and if we can get a picture of it then our parents will have to believe us. It was sound logic. We drew straws to see who would be the one to sneak into Miss Robbins house while she was out rattling her keys. Of course, I drew the shortest one. The next night, while Miss Robbins was on her lawn, I snuck in behind her. It wasn't hard, she left the front door wide open. As I stepped over the threshold, I noted that the place had an oppressive air to it. It was stiflingly hot and smelled like mothballs. I held my phone clutch tight in my sweaty hand as I scanned the living room for the coffin. There was no sign of it, but then I guess there wouldn't be. My best bet would be to check the bedroom. I forced myself down the hall, each footstep feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds. I pushed the door to the bedroom open, and it gave a loud creak. I whipped my head around to see if Miss Robbins had heard me, but I didn't hear any footsteps, so I guess I was safe. There was no coffin in the bedroom either. Maybe it was in the basement. I found the entry to the basement in the laundry room. The door was old and the paint was peeling off of it. I felt sweat beating up on my forehead as I stared at the door. I couldn't tell if it was nerves or just the heat. I pushed the door open and switched on the flashlight on my phone, but it only lit about halfway down the staircase. I took a hesitant step down, and that's when I heard the front door close, followed by thudding footsteps. I couldn't run. My only chance was to hide. I closed the door to the basement as quietly as I could and started down the steps, but there must have been a missing step because my foot found only air and I tumbled headlong rest of the way down. My phone screen shattered, but the flashlight was still on. I swept the beam of light around the room and it landed on something shiny, a shelf full of glass jars. The jars were filled with a murky green liquid and each one had something floating in it. As my eyes focused in the dim light, I saw what was inside of them. A scream gathered in my throat, but came out as a whimper. The whimper was loud enough, however, for Miss Robbins to hear me. The basement door was flung open and light poured into the room. Who's there? Miss Robbins called out. My head whipped this way and that as I scanned the walls for another exit, but there was only one way out and Miss Robbins was standing between me and it. Miss Robbins swung her flashlight beam over me and I was blinded as the light washed out my vision. I dropped to my knees, please don't kill me. I heard a click and the overhead light of the basement came on. I dared not look to my right where I knew the jars of human remains were. So you found my children, Miss Robbins said, giving me a hard look. I won't tell anybody. I swear. I'd prefer that you didn't. Miss Robbins replied, but you're not in any danger. She walked over to the jars inside as she rested a hand on one of them. She shook her head. These were the only children I ever had, but none of them ever made it out alive. I looked at the shelf of jars again and I realized that they were fetuses, not children. In the dark they had seemed much larger. Come on, boy, Miss Robbins said. Have a cup of tea with me and I won't tell your parents that you snuck in here. Miss Robbins turned and walked up the stairs without waiting for my response and after a moment's hesitation, I followed her. I sat on Miss Robbins' old red couch as she put the kettle on and a couple minutes later we were both sipping rose-pedal tea out of delicate china glasses. I noticed that Miss Robbins' hand shook as she lifted the cup to her mouth. Miss Robbins, I hazarded. Yes, boy. You said those were your children. Miss Robbins shifted uncomfortably in her seat. That's right, she said. How come they came out like that all twisted up and deformed? Miss Robbins finished for me. My face flushed red and Miss Robbins sighed. Are your parents good to you, boy? She asked. Yeah, I guess so. Well, my father wasn't good to me and my sisters. He heard us something awful. He messed my insides up. In years later when I wanted to have kids, they all came out like that. I'm sorry, I said. Me too. She replied. I stared into my teacup for a few minutes before speaking up again. Miss Robbins? Yes, boy. You said you had a sister. Yes, she said, frowning. I had three. Now I've got one. How come she never visits you? I asked. Miss Robbins shook her head. I shouldn't tell you any of this, but I guess if you ask an old codger like me a question, they'll tell you their whole life story. I guess it's because the world forgets about us old people, so when someone wants to talk to us, we can't shut up. She took another shaky-handed sip of her tea and continued, this is the house I grew up in. All of my sisters moved away and lived their lives, but I could never leave this place. Back when I was a girl, they didn't have a name for that. Now they call it agoraphobia. Do you know what that is, boy? I shook my head. It means I can't go outside, she said. Too much open space, too much noise, and too many people. It's suffocating to me. I can make it as far as the lawn some nights, but then the daylight comes and the world opens up and I've got to come back inside. But you've been going outside every single night, I said. I've seen you. So I have, she replied. She stared into her tea with a troubled look on her face. My sister is dying. She said. They say she's got a few months left, but it's my last chance to see her before she goes. Why do you rattle your keys? They're my car keys, she said, and anything I hold these days rattles. But I'm fooling myself, she went on. I haven't driven that car in over ten years. Even if I could make it there, it probably wouldn't start. Huh? I said. We just thought you were a vampire. Miss Robin snorted in her tea. You what? She said. Well, you only ever come out at night, and Billy said that meant you were a vampire. To my surprise, Miss Robbins began to laugh. I suppose that makes more sense than someone being afraid of the outside. She said. Well, sure. I replied. Everybody's heard of vampires, but I don't think anybody knows what gophonia is. Agoraphobia. Miss Robbins said. A soft smile lighting her face. Right. I replied. But Miss Robbins, yes? How can anybody be afraid of the outside? Miss Robbins lips creased into a frown. Well, if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that living in fear is like standing under an avalanche. If you don't move out of the way, the snow just keeps piling up on you higher and higher. And eventually you get so deep that you can never dig your way out. It's a shame you're not a vampire. I said. Why is that? Well, if you were a vampire, you wouldn't have to be afraid. I don't think there's anything in the outside tougher than a vampire. Billy says that vampires can't go out in the sunlight, but I figured that they could just wear sunblock. Miss Robbins smiled. Yes, she said. I suppose they could. I went home not long after, but that wasn't the last time I had tea at Miss Robbins place. Once we knew she wasn't a vampire, me and the other kids started to stop by sometimes. She would make us rose-petal tea with honey in it, and to this day I've never had anything that tasted so good. The very last time I went to Miss Robbins house, she wasn't there. Instead, there was a note on the door that simply read, I've decided to be a vampire. Her car was gone, and our parents said that she had moved out to the Midwest to be with her sister. She died out there a few years after her sister did. I only knew Miss Robbins for a short time, but I've never forgotten her. Every time I am too afraid to do something that I really want to do, I remind myself of Miss Robbins and how she decided to be a vampire.