Stories for intermediate-level students, equivalent to CEFR B2.
I don’t expect you to believe what I am going to tell you, but hopefully you will understand. I’m not sure I believe or understand it myself. I’m not mad, and this is not a dream—it is stranger and more horrible than any dream I have ever had. But maybe a clever reader will see my story, and find an answer to the madness. That is all I can hope for.
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‘I guess it could’ve been a coven of v-vampires. But do you think this place is really…?’
‘Poorly looked after? It appears to be. Suppose we go to the kitchen and try to find some food?’
He began hopping towards the door, but then there was a strong gust of wind and it slammed loudly, putting out two lights with it. Pelha screamed.
‘Oh well, I suppose a vampire’s kitchen would be empty.’
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Once upon a time, in old Japan, there was a Buddhist monk named Zenchi. Zenchi was well-known at the temple where he lived because of his nose. It was about five or six inches long, and it hung down his face, from his upper lip to the bottom of his chin. It was fat at the top and fat at the bottom, and looked like a long sausage, which hung off his face and swung from side to side.
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