A short story I wrote for this political season…
by Juliette Kings aka Vampire Maman
I’d dined with The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, alone. It had been a private affair with only the two of us. I’d acquired signatures, state secrets, just the right amount of English blood, and enough charm to last me a while. He came away from it feeling quite satisfied with himself, though a little pale.
Heading to my private quarters I was stopped cold in my tracks. There he was, at the end of the hall.
“Well, this is random.” I said to the familiar apparition.
“I have been waiting for you madam.”
“I never imagined you’d stoop so low as to be a ghost.”
He smiled. “I never imagined you’d stoop so low as to be president.”
I smiled back. “The first woman president. I bet you never thought you’d see that in your lifetime.”
“I’m dead my dear. Remember?” He laughed in a cold manner that made my breath turn to a cloud before my face. “I loved you.” He whispered.
“You used me.”
“You used me as well Madam.”
“So I did. But times have changed Mr. President.”
The ghost smiled and came close. “You amaze me Madam. Never has there been a president so popular or successful. The economy is good. Unemployment is below 2%. We’re not in a war and our schools working. How do you manage it?”
I shrugged. “I love the American people. I love my country.”
The ghost laughed. “You don’t have to campaign with me dear.”
I had to smile. At one time we’d been so close. “Why did it take so long for you to show yourself?” I asked.
“The White House isn’t my usual haunt. If I’d known you’d be wearing that dress I would have come back sooner.”
“I’m not even wearing a corset.”
“Or a bustle. That is one reason I never gave women the vote, you do know that. Damned bustles looked so silly. Who could take a creature who wears one of those things seriously?”
A song blasted from my hand. The ghost looked startled. “My daughter just texted me.” I held up my phone. She was just down the hall but I’d promised I’d check in before I went to bed.
“How is she doing since…I’m so sorry.”
“She’s doing ok. Some days are hard, especially holidays and special events.” My husband had passed away during my first term of an unexpected illness. I would never admit it out loud but grief, combined with my dedication to the job, shot my ratings in the polls up to 97.4%.
I looked fondly upon my ghostly friend, a great man who was rarely remembered. One of the many forgotten 19th century presidents. Just so many men with beards. What a shame.
“I wish I could hold you.” I said, remembering a time long ago when that was possible.
“I should have asked you turn me when you had a chance.” He said, standing so close I could feel him but not touch him.
Passing my hand through his heart I told him the truth. “You made a good president but you would have been a horrible vampire sir.”
“I suppose you’re right. Good night my dear”, he said with a gentle smile. “Be careful.”
I smiled. “I will, my darling. I will.”