Romance Under An October Moon

I watch my husband Teddy move about the room and think he could be right off of the cover of one of those sexy Vampire books… only a lot hotter. Or I suppose colder if you’re a Vampire.

My own personal history is somewhat off limits and wide open (I’m blogging aren’t I.) But this is about a full moon in October and the love of my life. Sometimes we forget as parents that we had a life before the kids came along.

I have known Teddy forever, at least my forever. From the day I was born he was always there, then he wasn’t there, and over the years we were like two ships that passed in the night.

It was October 16, 1959 when we saw each other at a party at my Uncle Rob’s house in Santa Barbara. It was a perfect night under a full moon with the first nips of fall in the air. A perfect night for Vampires.

Teddy was there in a beautiful black suit. His silk tie was a geometric pattern of reds and gold. Every head in the room turned to look at my handsome friend. A few days before he’d come up from Los Angeles where he’d had business dealings, and I’m sure plenty of pleasure. Back then could outshine any of the old Hollywood stars day or night. He still can.

I wore a red satin wiggle dress to the party. My hair was pale blonde at the time and pulled back into a fashionable elegant twist. I think of myself now always in jeans and sweaters and remember the progression of fashion from hoops and corsets, wiggle dresses and garter belts, mini skirts and tights to my current collection of little A-line dresses, pencil skirts and crisp white shirts, well, and lots of jeans and tees.

Anyway, it was great to see Teddy. As usual I was living and traveling with my brother Valentine. Val and I were never anywhere more than a year or two. It had been at least a year since I’d seen Teddy. Tonight Val was at home miles away. I was at the party enjoying company of the other guest (especially the delightful Regular Human guests.)

So Teddy and I took time out and went outside for some time to our selves. From the large back deck we watched a pack of large dogs run across the beach. The moonlight bounced off of their fur.

“Those aren’t dogs,” said Teddy.

I looked at him, puzzled.

“They’re werewolves Juliette.”

It had been years since I’d seen werewolves in their wolf form. It brought up memories of our childhood. The only difference was that I knew who the Werewolves were in California of the 1860’s but he had no idea such beasts existed. He was human back then, a Regular Human, before he became a Vampire like my brothers and me. Oh well.

We talked through the night as old friends who have known each other forever do. We also spoke like new friends with a quick and comfortable attraction.

The following night we took the train north to San Francisco where Teddy lived with my eldest brother Max.

Their house was Victorian but the furnishings were modern and stylish. Max wasn’t home, but that was fine with me. Teddy didn’t offer to take me to my parent’s house or to stay with my brother Andrew. He didn’t show me to the guest room.

We fixed cocktails, talked a bit and laughed a lot. Then we went upstairs to his bedroom and made love for the first time.

Everything was perfect and right and comfortable and passionate and I knew he was the one I wanted to be with always. I’d known him forever but now things had gone a step, a big step, beyond friendship.

I thought of how if he never had become a Vampire he’d be gone, or 110 years old in 1959. How I would have missed him. I’ve missed so many friends over the years, but it is something we accept. We don’t have to like it, but we accept it as the way things have to be.

Max came home in the wee hours of the morning and while he said nothing to me I knew he was slightly annoyed. After all, his baby sister had just spent the night in the bed of his best friend.

He spoke to Teddy alone with low tones. I could hear Max calling him Theodore. It is always serious when those two are called Theodore or Maxwell. Max eventually had to admit to himself that Teddy and I had always been close.

Teddy and I didn’t really make things serious until the early 1990’s but we always knew where we could find each other.

I think of those few days in 1959, a few weeks before my 100th birthday and it seems like a million years ago, and it seems like yesterday.

Now we have one child in college and one in High School. Our discussions center around hilarious tales of high school, things that need to be done around the house, and our busy October schedule. We each have our jobs, we have a lot of friends, and we have our children. The kids come first. Despite any frustrations and road blocks and tragedies and stupid things (our lives are full of stupid things) we manage to make it work.

But still, there are times when we find those moments of passion together, or just quiet time under the light of the full moon.

Of course this is the short version of a longer story. A much longer story.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Vampire Love

Short Story Sunday

Morning at the Vineyard

Andrew didn’t remember much when the door opened with blinding light waking him from his sleep, much less the voice that said “You aren’t dead.”

“Of course I’m not dead.” Andrew lifted himself up on his elbow and looked around at the bedroom.

“You were so cold. We couldn’t hear your heart.” A slim woman with long slightly graying hair stood near the bed.

“That’s what all the girls say.” No response. “That was a joke.”

“Oh. Ha ha ha. Good one.” Uncomfortable laughing.

There was the taste of blood in his mouth, but not his own. It must have been a Hell of a night. He looked at the woman again. She was pretty but not young, standing there in a flowing sundress and pretty light summer sweater. Nice. This would be fairly easy staying here for a few days, but he would still be cautious. Sometimes the most easy ones turned out to be the most dangerous.

Andrew started to get up and realized he was naked under the sheets.

“Your clothes were soaked and also covered with blood. We thought about calling the police but my husband Ian said to wait until morning. My husband Dennis said the same. I don’t agree with them. We should have called the police as soon as we found you.”

“Where was I?”

“In the vineyard, face down in the dirt. Your car was in a ditch with four flats and the front end smashed in. We pulled it out.”

The Tesla. Quiet and fast and expensive. Then he thought about what she said. “Husbands? You mentioned two husbands.”

“We practice polyandry. Two husbands, one wife, one family. It isn’t legal or common or accepted by most people but…”

“I don’t have a problem with it. As long as it works for you.”

“It does.”

She took a stack of clothing, jeans, a shirt, etc, from the top of the dresser and gave it to Andrew. “Clean clothing. Breakfast will be ready in about a half hour. And we’ll discuss who you are and why you’re here and where all the blood came from.” Then she turned and left the room.

What a night. The fog started to clear from Andrew’s brain. He staggered up out of the bed and closed the window shades. Damn sunlight. Looking in the mirror the reflection looked back showing a well built man with alabaster skin, long chestnut curls flowing down his back, a classically handsome face and hazel eyes the color of the blue green southern seas. His mouth twitched showing fangs. He quickly gained his composure and hid the teeth and rubbed his tired eyes.

“Shit. What the crap happened to you Andrew,” he said to himself. There was wine, a lot of wine. There were women. There was a guy named Brant and his friend Chet. There was the girl Ginger…she had AB + blood, Chet had O. Oh no. Why didn’t he remember? And how’d he end up face down in the middle of a vineyard? Zinfandel. He knew what kind of grapes they were.

Taking a 3 minute shower, he towel dried his long locks, pulled on the clothes the woman had left him and went down the stairs. He could smell food cooking and coffee. He gripped the banister to prevent himself from throwing up everything inside of his stomach. He’d over done it for sure, blood and wine. Wine and blood. Sex too but that was a blur. Food might do him some good.

In the kitchen were two men and the woman, along with half a dozen kids in who ranged from about 8 to 17.

He looked at the men. A large blonde man who looked like a former football player introduced himself as Ian. Dennis was shorter with the look of a History Professor or some sort of thing like that. They called the woman Carrie. One big happy family.

Ian poured Andrew coffee and welcomed him. They all welcomed him. This was getting creepy. Then again, Andrew was the Vampire, but he was sitting in the home of a farmer and wine maker and her two husbands and six kids. It was weird. But hey, he decided to make the best of it.

They made small talk. He thanked them for taking him in. Carrie put plates of eggs and fried tofu and toast and fruit and bacon and mushrooms on the table.

The teenage girls thought Andrew’s hair was great and asked him if he was in a band. He smiled minus fangs. He must have had at least five cups of coffee.

“Last night I thought you had some nasty scratches on your face,” mentioned Ian.

“I, uh, heal fast.” Andrew said that then wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He healed fast because he wasn’t like them. He took the blood and energy of regular normal people and in return, he made them feel good – like a rush that would last at least a week. Well, if he liked them and made a connection.

“Where’d all the blood come from? Except for the scratch on your face you didn’t have a mark on you.” As Carrie said that she gave him a long cold look.

“Blood? On me? I guess I drank too much. Too much of everything and threw up. I don’t know. My friends drank a lot and someone was doing some sort of recreational drugs or maybe prescription pain killers, I’m not sure, but I over did it. Listen, I’m so sorry about this and I really appreciate your hospitality. I’ve imposed on you. I wish there was something I could do to pay you back. Let me know.”

Ian gave him a pat on the arm. “We know what it is like to be different.”

“You’re a Vampire aren’t you?” Dennis asked as the kids all looked on.

Andrew brushed a damp lock of hair out of his face and suddenly felt a little warm. “Yes, but…”

“How long have you been a Vampire?” Carrie was asking now.

“I’ve always been one. My parents were Vampires. Um, I was born just down the road from here. October 22, 1851.”

The children were transfixed.

“We don’t have a problem with Vampires. Some food might settle your stomach Andrew,” said Carrie. “And you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. We found your phone and called your sister. She’ll be here in a couple of hours.”

This was all too strange for Andrew. He’d spent the past 100 years or thereabouts avoiding families and any kind of normal human lives. Years had passed traveling, and performing and enjoying wine and women and wild nights. But now he sat with a nice family with no pretenses. And rarely had he ever met humans who knew or even knew about real Vampires. It was so unusually weird.

“I sing opera,” he said to the kids. “Mainly opera but I can sing just about anything. Just got back from Patagonia and learned a bunch of folk songs. I can do metal too. That comes naturally.”

“I can imagine you do a great power ballad,” Carrie said with a smile, then she told the children to leave the room.

Andrew had to smile. This as so weird but he could get used to this. He looked at Carrie’s golden brown eyes. A positive blood, just like his. She’d make a good Vampire, or even just a snack.

He thought about his sister. It had been forever since he’d seen her or her children. It would be nice. More than nice. Maybe she’d get another husband too. He might suggest it. He smiled. That would be funny.

“What happened to my friends? Did you see any of them?” Andrew looked from Dennis to Ian then to Carrie. “Did they say where they went?”

Carrie looked him in the eye as Dennis and Ian flanked her side. “We buried them in the garden behind the carriage house.”

“Don’t worry,” said Dennis “Nobody ever found the other bodies we’ve buried, so they won’t find your friends.”

Andrew took another gulp of coffee and hoped his sister would arrive soon.

And that was the entire truth just as my brother Andrew told it to me.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Summer-Sun-550

First posted 7/13

Featured in the Short Story Collection: Morning at the Vineyard

Kbatz: House of Usher (1960)

Horroradicts.net is such a fun blog. Halloween is coming so now you have no excuse not to follow it.

Love this post. Poe and Price totally ROCK the gothic horror universe.

HorrorAddicts.net

House of Usher is Creepy, Gothic Good Fun

By Kristin Battestella

220px-House_of_usher1960American International Pictures and director/producer Roger Corman took their low budget horror productions to the next atmospheric, macabre level with this 1960 Edgar Allan Poe adaptation, the first of eight delightful, demented Poe-isms.

Philip Winthrop (Mark Damon) arrives at the gloomy Usher estate to inquire upon his ill betrothed Madeline (Myrna Fahey). Though longtime family butler Bristol (Harry Ellerbe) is kind to Philip, Madeline’s elder brother Roderick (Vincent Price) fears for his sister and the engagement thanks to a history of family illness and vice. The siblings suffer from several afflictions and sensibilities, and marriage, life in the outside world, and having children is out of the question as far as Roderick is concerned. Nonetheless, Philip wants to take Madeline away – but the Usher lineage and the crumbling mansion itself threatens them all…

Corman’s (The Little Shop…

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Even Vampires Get The Blues

Family lore said he left the battle fields of the war between the states and ran California to seek his fortune. There he died in a mine explosion. But he really went to Patagonia where he met a strange man with the voice of an angel. From there he met a man with the voice of an angel who hired him to go to London to hunt Vampires. And that is exactly what he did before he was murdered by a whore who said she did it for love. His niece ended up with all the gold and didn’t tell anyone.

 

I have the house to myself today and I was trying to pound out a blog post when my brother Andrew staggered down the stairs. Not quite alone. Andy had bad days, weeks, months… He tries to get in a good place by not spending too much time alone.

I give him coffee. He sits across the table from me. I can tell he is feeling numb and helpless. This extraordinarily gifted being feels this way for no reason – it just comes on like a wave, or so he describes it.

“I’d take drugs for this if I could but they don’t work for us,” he told me.

“I know sweetie,” I told my older brother. All four of my brothers are older. Andy is the second in line.

He is good at hiding it and dealing with it and avoiding it and trying not to acknowledge it. He doesn’t let it define him. But it is hard sometimes.

Andy had inspired a lot of my stories. My book Morning at the Vineyard is titled after a story about one of his misadventures. He is a musician, a lover and gentle soul and can party like no other. He is impulsive and the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met.

When he arrived I had a list of activities. No matter how painful it was he always tried and often the flurry of action and stimulus would knock him out of it. Odd how it works.

We chatted for a while over coffee. I poured a liberal amount of blood into his (remember we’re Vampires) and told him of some fun people we’d meet later tonight… yes, we’re Vampires remember.

But no matter what you are, if you’re a little bit of human you can get the blues. Werewolves get it bad. Regular Humans get it really bad. We just need to be sensitive and help those who have it. Just telling someone to snap out of it is like telling someone with a broken arm to snap out of it.

Andy asked about my blog post, the silly stuff I was writing about hidden stories. We takes about our family, my kids, or brother Aaron’s kids, our pets, music, his work and a lot of other things. He ran his hand through his long brown hair and closed his eyes then gave a slight shake of his head, as he does sometimes.

He takes my hand. “Thanks Jewels, I’m going to be fine.”

“I know,” I tell him. He’ll be fine as long as he remembers that it isn’t him. It is something else. He told me that a long time ago.

So anyway, we have a lot to do so we’ll get on with our fun.

Hope everyone has a good weekend full of love and understanding and good coffee.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Dragonbride

Once upon a time, when I first started to blog I came across the blog of Raani York. The first post I ever read was about the do’s and don’t of kissing – for guys. I laughed out loud. Then I discovered her brilliant letters to celebrities. From there I met Jake the Cat Prince, read interviews and since then I’ve met other authors/bloggers through Raani’s extensive following. You never know what sort of fun you’ll find on Ranni York’s blog.

That is why I’m so excited and honored to help introduce her new book Dragonbride.

Imagine a world unlike any other. A world of dragons and magic and adventure… and romance.

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Dragonbride

(The Dragon Chronicles, Book #1)
Shalima, “Daughter of the Light”, was born under special circumstances. She was raised by her aunts instead of her mother because she needed to be prepared to fulfill the prophecies of the Old Scriptures, which told that she was the only Magician on Earth.

Her aunts carefully prepared her for her obligations and her sacred duty. She will have to get married to the Holy Golden Dragon, the King of the Dragons, a huge Earth Dragon with magical talents. She cannot believe that she is the “Chosen One”, who has to protect the Dragon Species, all of Nature and finally the Earth. But when she turned into a teenager it seemed that the Old Scriptures were right.

Buy the Book:

on Smashwords: https://smashwords.com/books/view/479647

As an Ebook for following formats: epub, mobi, pd,f rtf, lrf ,pdb, txt, html

The Paperback version on Amazon will be released very soon! More buyer’s links will be available within the next week.

About Raani York

Ranni York Author of Dragonbride

Ranni York
Author of Dragonbride

Raani York has been a high volume writer for years. She has published articles, letters, short stories, poems, continuation stories and descriptions of all kind. She also writes novels, some of which can found on her website.

Raani has been educated in Switzerland and in the U.S. She holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration. She also obtained diplomas in Graphic Design, Color Studies and won a prize as a Logo Designer. She speaks four languages and several dialects.

Raani York works and lives in Switzerland and the U.S. and travels often.

Next to her writing and her cats, Raani likes reading, blogging, Martial Arts, skiing, horseback riding, sky diving and enjoys playing the classical piano.

Contact:
Website: http://www.raaniyork.com
Blog: http://www.raaniyork.wordpress.com
Email: raaniyorkca@aol.com
Google: https://plus.google.com/115854197563561201228/posts
FB: https://www.facebook.com/raaniyork
FB Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/DragonScriptures
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RaaniYork
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/raani-york/5/922/b37
Myspace: https://myspace.com/raaniyork
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/12628426-raani-york
Microcerpt: http://microcerpt.com/raaniyork/
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/raaniyorkca/

Dragonbride Teaser:

The mountains possessed a dark but seductive beauty, and they lay in wait for the ones who came through the Fire Hell. The powdered white peaks of the sparkling black mountain-world watched for them with longing.
The Diamond Mountains gave the illusion of being much closer than they really were, and many a pilgrim had been lured to his death by the promise of riches hidden on their slopes. These mountains were so named because of the rough gems strewn about the black volcanic soil. When the sun shone overhead the gems made the mountains sparkle and shimmer brightly, and at night they made the moonlit mountains glow with a soft silver light.
People, blinded by both their greed and the tantalizing glittering of the sunlit earth, imagined that there was immeasurable wealth lying there on the ground, just waiting to be picked. However, the mountains never betrayed the secrets they held. None who had ever walked those slopes could find the diamonds hidden within the black soil, for the mountains protected themselves.
Although healthy forest still grew in the foothills, the undergrowth became sparser just a few hundred feet up, and then the treeline ended. Where stunted trees would normally grow the forest just stopped, as if some unseen hand had cut it short. All that remained were dangerously sharp, dry rocks. Just below the snowline, the rocks disappeared, and the glittering black soil took their place.
Moreover, at the summit it seemed as if the Creator of All Things had dusted the peaks of the fissured mountain range with powdered sugar, for they were covered with a deceptively soft-looking, yet extremely sharp-edged eternal snow.
The mountains never betrayed their secrets…
And if a wanderer were to climb those peaks, going up to the Fire Hell and searching to quench his thirst at a splashing mountain spring, he would find no cool, refreshing water. Instead, these living mountains would seek to frighten him by shrouding the ground with a mysterious fog that made it impossible to see where he was putting his feet. Pilgrims sometimes drowned in the sulfurous pools of water hidden within the hellish rocks when the fog appeared, and if they left the main trails, they would know true fear, for they would be led down treacherous sidepaths that seemed to take them somewhere, yet actually led them nowhere but to their doom.
The mountains never betrayed their secrets…
Though many thought they would find the cool relief of the shadows by early evening, the ascent would continue for another three torturous days. During those three days, their throats would scream for water, and their eyes would tear up in the swirling sand. Blown up by the hot desert winds, the sand burned as it fell upon a traveler’s face and skin. Eventually their limbs would become heavy, and they would barely be able to move; thus, the wanderers would be forced to crawl on, farther and farther, until sheer luck eventually brought them to civilization… to people.
In a canyon between two hills below the mountain range there was a village. It had no official name, but the people living there called it Alpcateçu, which meant Oasis of the Mountains. Anyone who wanted to climb the mountains had to pass through the village. A few taverns and inns surrounded the village fountain, where a market was sometimes held.
Some houses and huts had been built in the wide hills and even at the edge of the forest… and in one such place, hidden within the woods, almost four hundred feet past the deepest thicket and connected to the village only by a sidepath lay the place in which I had been born.

dragonbride-e-book-format

Dragonbride will also be featured on the blogs listed below. Please check out these blogs – you’ll thank me for it later.

Juneta Key http://www.junetakey.com/posts/want-featured-guest-author-blog/

David Beercroft http://www.davidmbeercroft.wordpress.com

Tammy Shanks http://www.manippydippytactics.com

Joyce Slobogian http://www.joyslobogian..com/blog

Peggy Stankiewicz http://psbartlett.me/

Laurie Smith http://laurie27wsmith.wordpress.com

Scarlett Flame http://missscarlettflame.blogspot.co.uk/

Patricia Pierce-Garcia-Schaack http://www.patgarciaschaack.com/
. http://www.patgarcia.co.uk/
. http://patgarciabookreviews.com/

Shirley McLain http://shirley-mclain.net/

Patricia Salamone http://theitalianthing.com/

Kelly Heckart http://www.kelleysrealm.blogspot.com/

Lexie Conyngham http://www.murrayofletho.blogspot.co.uk

Richelle Goodrich http://www.regoodrich.blogspot.com

Darian Wilk http://darianwilk.weebly.com/blog

Kelley http://www.thebookstalker.net/

Linda W. Yezak http://lindayezak.com/

Marta Merjaver Kurlat http://www.martamerajver.com.ar/marta/index.php/blogroll

Ashlee North http://ashleenorthauthor.com/index.html

Jeanette Andersen http://jeanettesandersen.blogspot.ch/

Merlin Fraser http://merlinfraser.wordpress.com/

Denise Bartram http://debooksharing.wordpress.com/

Juliette Kings https://vampiremaman.com/

Marla Todd http://www.westcoastreview.wordpress.com

Lisa Vandiver http://www.lisavandiver.blogspot.ch

Renee Scattergood http://reneescattergood.com/shadow-stalker/

Rebecca Draco http://rebeccadraco.com

Chelle Cordero http://ccepotourri.wordpress.com/

Kathryn Jenkins http://dkchronicles2013.wordpress.com/
. http://dkcwriterscorner.wordpress.com
. http://dkcreaderscorner.wordpress.com

Kirstin Puliof http://www.kirstinpulioff.com/

Elle Lisa Klaes http:// thetroubledoyster.blogspot.com

A. G. Moye http://booksbyagmoye.blogspot.com

Megan Cyrulewski http://www.megancyrulewski.com

Allan Krummenacker http://akrummenacker.wordpress.com

Lorraine Reguly http://wordingwell.com/blog/

August McLaughlin http://augustmclaughlin.wordpress.com/

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Let your imagination soar…

~ Juliette aka Vampire Mamam

Note to Raani: Max said he was going to download this and read it. He’ll let you know what he thinks.

Tag Hash

taghash_ancient-rome

“It is called Tag Hash. You add stuff as you go, as in tagging it on to the end,” explained the ancient Vampire Tellias. “I learned to cook in Rome, when I was a much younger Vampire than I am today. Tiberius was emperor at the time. God, that was a strange time. Fun if you were on the top of the food chain like I was. They thought I was a demigod. Oh, I had my share of torrid adventures. Nothing I’d recommend either one of you try, but it was fun.”

Tellias pulled out a large cast iron skillet then rooted around his kitchen for various knives and bits of food. Vampires don’t eat a lot of regular food but we do, from time to time. One can’t live on blood alone.

With his white blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a red apron over a tuxedo shirt with a thousand little tucks and blue plaid pants he was quite the dashing cook. He looks all of 19 years old but Tellias is as ancient as modern civilization and much more civilized. My 15 year old daughter Clara and I were visiting and chatting and having a lovely time in large Victorian kitchen.

Tellias talked as he cooked. “We made Tag Hash back then too. I believe I’ve had this made with everything from chopped mouse to wolf to mussels. Once a group of superstitious soldiers even added the body parts of slain heroes. A bit of human heart or liver that made the soldiers feel special. It wasn’t very good, in fact it was horrible and a bit disturbing, but they thought they were stronger after eating it. Anyway, people used to do all sorts of nasty things. They still do. So, where was I? Tag Hash. Ingredients come and go with fashion but everyone likes to add bits and pieces together and think they have something special. Sort of like a romance – all bits and pieces.”

Tag Hash

He took a few mushrooms and chopped them up, then grated a carrot and a few squash he’d picked that morning. After that he added finely slivered onion and shallots to the mix and a bright red bell pepper. He chopped a small mountain of spinach and Swiss chard together. Throwing in a bit of thyme, salt and pepper he mixed everything in a bowl with a hand full of chopped oysters, some raw steak thinly sliced steak and a slash of white wine.

Next he took out some thick smoky bacon and cut about 8 pieces into small bits and threw them in the cast iron skillet to fry. He said he never cooked the pieces whole. It was easier this way and much more fun.

Throwing a bit of olive oil and a hint of grape seed oil in the pan he added the chopped ingredients and flattened them out.

“One must wait a bit to make sure everything browns.” He said with a sly smile, and then flipped the crispy hash over. Then he cracked a few eggs on the top and left them to cook.

When it was brown on both sides and the whites of the eggs had cooked, he moved it to three plates and we proceeded to the table. He sprinkled a bit of chopped tomato and green onion on top for color and a little zest. The vegetables were tasty, the oysters were done to perfection and the steak was rare.

The dish was served with Bloody Marys (made with real blood of course), and Clara had some spiced Poet’s Blood.

It is a dish that is served different every time because it is Tag Hash – just tag things onto it until you get it like you want.

“I like to fix this around Halloween.” continued Tellias. “I add pumpkin and winter squash with a bit of sweet potato. It adds a delicate sweetness without processed sugar. If I was a Witch I’d add small children, monkey balls and bat eyes, but I’m not a Witch. Luckily none of us are Witches or Warlocks. You have to watch out for them. Always question what they’re cooking, or better yet don’t dine with them at all.”

Long long ago his wife had been involved with a couple of Warlocks so Tellias never trusted any kind of Witch. Come to think of it none of us really trust them or like to spend much time with them. They’re as creepy as Ghosts as far as I’m concerned and far weirder and one can never trust a Witch. Never.

I wouldn't recommend eating ANYTHING a witch serves you. Just smile and say you have a stomach flu or better yet, run away.

I wouldn’t recommend eating ANYTHING a witch serves you. Just smile and say you have a stomach flu or better yet, run away.

We didn’t have any left over Tag Hash but we had some left over hash tags: #taghash, #hashtag, #vampirecooks, #vampiremaman, #modernvampires, #Tellias, #ancientvampires. I’m not sure what to do with them but we’ll figure it out before they go bad.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman