It was a dark night in the month of November, 2023. The time was around midnight. I pulled the controls one by one, making mental calculations and keeping an eye on the huge gear system. My grandfather's time-machine, named "Believers' Craft" by him, was lying completed in our backyard and he had been running around all month submitting papers to get a patent, but most people laughed off his invention as utter nonsense that didn't work. But no one, except me, of course, cared about the fact that my grandfather meant it when he said that you have to believe in it to make it work. "The belief is a major part of the formula" , my grandfather kept saying, "If you don't trust it, it won't start. If you are not confident, you will end up at a different time and place."

The inspectors who visited day and night to look at my grandfather's latest invention, all came in with a pre-biased mindset that the machine wouldn't work, and as a result, of course, failed to start it. That night, I took the liberty to jump into the machine. It was a spherical contraption, with various gears and buttons inside, and had two large open windows. There were two chairs inside, with snake-like coiled seatbelts attached. My grandfather was fast asleep in the only bed in the house, all those ramblings of non-believers day and night about how time-travel was impossible, and all the criticism he faced, genuinely took a toll on him, and his features were warped and twisted with anger, even in his sleep. I usually spent my nights sleeping on the couch, but that night I had sneaked out into the backyard after a quick look at my grandfather in bed. Then, I had gone into the backyard and jumped into the creation he was so proud of. I strapped myself with the help of the seat-belts to one of the chairs inside. The gentle tick-tock of an hourglass, that looked a lot like a time-turner, at the front of the time-machine indicated that I had managed to start the contraption, brilliantly designed by my grandfather. Gears whirred and a screen appeared, asking me to punch in the date and place. I chose November, 100 years into the future, at exactly the spot where the time-machine was. Then, I closed my eyes, hand on the red button in front of me, and pressed. I admit I was a bit scared of landing in an unexpected year. Blinding light forced me to keep my eyes closed for a whole minute, and a pounding headache made me double up in the chair. The gentle tick-tock of an hourglass, that looked a lot like a time-turner, at the front of the time-machine indicated that I had managed to start the contraption, brilliantly designed by my grandfather. Gears whirred and a screen appeared, asking me to punch in the date and place. I chose November, 100 years into the future, at exactly the spot where the time-machine was. Then, I closed my eyes, hand on the red button in front of me, and pressed. I admit I was a bit scared of landing in an unexpected year. Blinding light forced me to keep my eyes closed for a whole minute, and a pounding headache made me double up in the chair. Slowly, after a minute or so, the headache reduced in intensity and disappeared and I opened my eyes, a bit scared at the thought of whether I would be able to return to my own era safely. I was still in the interior of the time-machine, but the machine itself was in a very dark and horrible smelling place, as I could make out from the lack of light and the foul smell coming in through the open windows. I covered my nose and descended down the stairs, binoculars in hand. I expected to see my great great grand-children through the window of a renovated and beautified house, sleeping on comfy beds, probably in oxygen masks, because of the deteriorating condition of the environment and the increasing pollution I had witnessed in 2023. To my great surprise, the air was quite clear and breathable, only full of a rotten stench. There were no dirty fumes or dust. Moreover, there was no house. I found myself in a cemetery. So, my family-line had died out and I had no great great grand-children, or that's what I concluded. A bit saddened at the prospect, I walked around looking for a grave that belonged to my grandfather or to myself. My parents had died in an airplane crash and were never found, so I didn't expect to see their graves. There were moldy rocks everywhere and dilapidated graves. I could hear a distant digging. I was on alert immediately. Someone was digging my family members' graves. I quietly followed the noise with stealthy footsteps. The first gravestone I passed read Lora Baker, died 1823. I wondered who she was. I did not belong to the Baker Family, nor did I even know a Baker relative in my lifetime. The next gravestone read Percy Sanders, died 1716. Another unknown name. By now, I was suspicious. Where on Earth was I?

Looking around a bit in confusion, I spotted the large yew tree that was in our backyard, and that my grandfather said was about 500 years old and haunted. I had never believed that it was haunted, but it looked gloomy nevertheless. I would know it anywhere by the weird designs and patterns on its trunk. So, it was our backyard after all, I realised, though I admit that the yew tree looked a bit weird. In a trance, I walked towards it. The noise of digging grew louder. I hid behind the tree and discovered the source of the noise. There were a group of hooded people digging away at a grave. "Grave burglars", I thought. It was too soon to give myself away. I could not see the name on the stone above the grave being robbed, because of the angle and the bodies of the grave-diggers. I stayed quiet and looked around for a quick way to summon help. There was a light visible beyond the nearest boundary and I knew that if I screamed, someone would hear me. But I for the right moment to shout for help. I needed them to be caught red-handed, preferably at a time when they would find it difficult to escape quickly, such as when they were half-way through packing the robbed riches. However, they did not dig out any riches. To my surprise, they only brought the corpse out. Now, I could see the name on the gravestone as clear as day as they moved the corpse to a little distance away. The name read Lucy Kingston, died 1210. I watched on silently in utter confusion. I knew no Lucy Kingston, and I had this habit of reading up the history of all my family members, and I was also half-way through creating the largest family tree ever drawn in history, so she couldn't be my long-dead far away relative, or I would have known. At this point I knew, that even if the place was my backyard, it had been converted to a cemetery, that housed graves not belonging to my own family members. I still decided to watch the situation unfolding, nonetheless. The corpse looked a bit fresh. It was quite pale, but the lips looked engorged and red. The cheeks were rosy and the eyes looked like they could snap open at any moment. I turned to the gravestone once again to check the date. Had I read it wrong? No, it was quite clear. "Died 1210". I thought hard. Why was the corpse so fresh? I witnessed the answer to my question in the next few minutes, through a blood-curdling scene. The grave-diggers pulled out a wooden cross, the longer stick pointed at the end like a stake. They drove it right into the corpse's heart and blood spilled out like a fountain. I screamed and then put my hand on my mouth, terrified. My eyes turned wide, portraying sheer fright and shock. However, the grave-diggers didn't notice me, and I realised  that they couldn't hear me. I realised that no one would hear my screams for help either. I wondered if they would even be able to see me. But I decided not to experiment, not when I was worried I could be killed. Then, they pulled out a handful of garlic cloves and stuffed these into the corpse's mouth. The impact was visible. The freshness of the corpse disappeared. The rotten flesh began to show. The body spoiled pretty quickly and was gone, changed into dust, in a few minutes. "That was the last of the known vampires", said one of the grave-diggers, removing his hood. I could see his face now. He looked like an old man, with a typical priest-like face.

"Vampires", I thought, "that explains why the body looked fresh, and disappeared into dust when staked."

"All thanks to you, chief", a younger one said, removing his hood.

"Yes, I agree", chirped in the third one, keeping his hood still on, "By the end of this century, you will be the greatest vampire hunter in history, chief. I already have 250 vampires successfully hunted by us this year, excluding Lucy Kingston hunted today, listed in my record book." As he said so, he removed a book from his cloak and showed it to the others. It was leather-bound, and "Vampire Hunt Records of the year 1923" was written clearly on the cover in gold letters. That's when I realised where I was, or to be more precise, when I was witnessing all of this. It was the year 1923. And it was possibly still our backyard, because of the yew tree I recognized so well. However, I was curious to find out more now.

"One more to add, buddy. She was quite the famed one in the years that she lived as a human.", the younger man who had spoken earlier said. The priest-like old man was packing up everything and then began to sprinkle holy water on the surrounding soil. "My boys, seal up the grave, and let's go. This vampire business is taking its toll on me", he said. They resealed the grave and left the place. Trembling from head to foot, I took a few cautious steps out of my hiding place. No one heard me, of course. As they walked away, the priest-man turned around and looked at the place for a while, but did not react at all to my presence. It was as though he was looking right through me. They then walked away calmly.

So, I had ended up 100 years into the past and not into the future. No one could hear or see me. And there were vampire-hunts going on in my backyard, not more than a century ago, calculated from the time I actually live in. I decided to explore the yew tree to confirm that I was where I thought I was. Yes, it was the same yew tree, the one grandfather said was haunted, and the one that was supposedly in my backyard for more than 500 years. Disengaging myself from my musings, I noticed that the yew-tree was actually quite younger, which is why I had thought it looked weird when I first saw it after travelling to this time in my time-machine. I had a few questions now. Why was my house built on a cemetery? I had initially planned that I would explore the streets and the people, but after the grueling occurrences I had seen, I was too tired to do so anymore. I searched around for any clues to the answer to my question about living in a house built on a cemetery, but found none. I must have searched for a few hours, because I felt quite sleepy and tired. As I looked up at the sky, I noticed that the Sun was about to rise. It was almost dawn and my grandfather would be awake soon. So, I traced my steps back to the time-machine and stepped back in. It stood there, tranquil, quiet and calm, unaffected by the passage of time, and the least bothered by how un-matching it looked in contrast to it's surroundings. It was a time-machine after all. Travelling between different times was like going on a long-drive for it. I settled down cosily on one of the two chairs inside the time-machine, trying to assume a calm demeanor like the machine itself. I wrapped myself in the snake-like seat-belt and pressed the red button again, after issuing a verbal command, "Take me back to the present, right here", because I was too tired, emotionally, to punch in dates, times, and places. My grandfather had included a feature into the time-machine, that could understand verbal commands, much like Alexa or Siri. I laughed a little at how stupid my command sounded as a sentence. Typically one would say, "Take me to this place, right now." But, I asked to be taken to a certain time, right at that place. The time-machine didn't wait for my musings. And thankfully, this time, I was super-confident that I would reach the exact year I wanted to, and as a result of my confidence, the time-machine didn't malfunction this time, but brought me right back to 2023. Again the blinding lights and the pounding headache, and the machine was in my backyard. For a while I wondered if it was all a dream. But I was still sitting in the time-machine and my grandfather was up and about, calling out my name. I jumped down the stairs of the time-machine two at a time, and ran to my grandfather. "Grandpa, tell me more about why the yew tree in our backyard is haunted", I said, impatiently. Grandfather stared at me in utter surprise. I had never been interested in this story until now. "Well", Grandfather began, "This used to be a cemetery, and a prime vampire-hunting spot about a century ago. Most of the graves were dug up and destroyed in search of vampires, and the gravestones were removed. Some loony built a house over the graveyard and cut away all the trees, except the yew tree. He could not cut the yew tree down because strange occurrences prevented him. It is said that the spirits of the dead who were buried here live on that tree. The loony sold this land when he knew he was about to die, and left on a pilgrimage. I had nowhere to go and was penniless, when your parents died, having sold off everything to buy materials to build my time-machine, and I had to take care of you all alone, so I bought this land for a low sum of money." As he finished, his expression began to change slowly.

I had been listening to him intently all along, belief evident in my eyes. "I believe you, Grandpa", I said. A knowing smile passed over my Grandfather's face, as he read my expressions. "And where have you been? Why couldn't I find you around all morning?", Grandfather asked.

"I have been taking a test-ride on your time-machine", I replied, "It works".