Vampire Diary: It Will Be Fun

Dear Diary,

I went to my mail box today. Unlike when I lived in my castle the mail box is in a wall of mail boxes built like a columbarium with a lot of little boxes all together with names on the, except mail is put there. It would not surprise me to find ashes, or even a skull in my box one day. That would be a pleasant change from so many advertisements.

The two cats, and the Jane the coyote pup with the soul of a Werewolf, followed me to the mail box. They ran around together then as I stopped the cats climbed a nearby tree, and Jane sat on my foot and leaned against my leg.

As I gathered up my mail, glad to see a packet of letters from Europe, my neighbor , a woman named Liz whom I am friendly with and drink wine with came to get her own mail.

“I am so glad you and Gillian are going to see Beauty and the Beast with us,” she said with a big smile.

I did not understand. What had my lover Gillian agreed to?

“I do not understand,” I said to Liz.

“You’re so cute Vlad. The movie. Gillian said you’d go with us. We’re getting a group together. It will be fun.” Then she scratched Jane between her shoulder blades. Jane licked Liz on the chin.

When I arrived back at my house, behind closed doors, I thought about what Liz had said. It will be fun.

I thought about a long time ago when I was a young man of seventeen years and someone said to me it will be fun.

In the court of my father was a Vampire called Lord Cuthbert. Cuthbert was not only large and handsome, but he was also vain and cruel.

One day he said, “Come with me Vlad. We will go to the woods for sport. It will be fun.

When we arrived in a dark spot in the woods Cuthbert took out his whip and started to beat me. Then he pushed me to the ground and held me there with his foot.

“You are too pretty to be a man. Maybe I should make you my bitch,” he said laughing and showing his fangs.

I was strong and young. I pushed him off of me, but he sliced open my arm with his knife. I stood in shock as he laughed in my face. Then he took my horse and left me in the woods.

“Next time Vlad, I will make you cry like a little girl,” he said as he rode off.

I said nothing to my father. Only my friend Randolpho knew what had happened.

The following week Cuthbert said to Randolpho, “Come to the woods with me. We will hunt wild boar. It will be fun.”

Randolpho went to the woods with Cuthbert. There Cuthbert beat Randolpho with a club, and stabbed him over and over with a knife. Then he took Randolpho’s clothing and left him naked to walk home.

The following day Cuthbert said to a Vampire girl called Sabine, “Come Beautiful Sabine, see the wild flowers with me. It will be fun.”

Cuthbert overpowered Sabine and violated her. He cut off a large chunk of her hair. He cut her face. He carved his name on her belly with his jewel handled knife, and threatened to kill her if she told anyone.

Sabine told Randolpho for he was her sweetheart.

The following day I said to Cuthbert, “Come to the woods with us near where the Wolf Folk live in their rough cottages. We will play a trick on them. It will be fun.”

Cuthbert was happy to go with us. He enjoyed nothing more than taunting and molesting Wolf Folk. We passed the village of the Wolf People, those who are part animal, and live as poor sad outcasts in their rough villages. They looked at us from the windows of their crude houses. They licked their lips with fear in their eyes.

“Look at you ugly filthy creatures,” yelled Cuthbert. “Go back in your dens before I put chains around your necks and pull you to Hell. But first I will take your women dog style.” Then he laughed a full belly laugh and showed his long sharp Vampire fangs. I was disgusted with him but said nothing.

To make this long story somewhat shorter I will finish up as not to get hand cramps. Outside of the Wolf Village I told Cuthbert to get off of his horse. When he did I struck him down with my sword. I cut off his right hand. He fell to his knees. Randolpho kicked Cuthbert down, then took out his knife and cut off Cuthberts manhood. As he lay screaming, the Wolf Folk gathered around. I sliced into Cuthbert’s flesh and threw it to the Wolf Folk who quickly ate it up. Bit by bit I flayed him, feeding the hungry half humans. Small Wolf Children ran up and begged for his nose, lips and ears. Cuthbert watched as he was devoured and begged us to stop.

“Sabine begged for you to stop and you laughed in her face, and made her suffer the worst humiliation. You disgust me. This is for Sabine,” I said as I cut off his nose and threw it to the laughing Wolf Children. Then Randolpho and I left. The sounds of Cuthbert screaming could be heard as the Wolf Folk ate him alive, and did not leave a single bone untouched. From a place behind the Wolf Folk Sabine watched and smiled.

Then Gillian came into the room and asked, “What are you thinking about. Vlad, the look on your face…”

I smiled. “Nothing darling. Liz told me that we were going to go see a movie. It will be fun.”

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Movie theaters fascinate me. There are times when I am unable to tell I am just sitting and watching. I am transported into another world.

This movie Beauty and the Beast is an old story. Like a girl falling in love with one of the Wolf Folk, only this man is enchanted by a wizard. He is a beast in a land of no other beasts. That is how some Vampires feel when they are out of sorts and wonder who could love them. Oh the prisons some put around themselves.

It was fun, but the theater was full of people so there was no chance to go to a back rows for snacks.

But the story was odd. I prefer the film Gillian and I saw last week. It was straight forward and to the point. It was about a man called Rick who owned a bar in a place where refugees met. The woman he loved and mysteriously lost showed up with a new husband who was a famous leader. Rick let her go despite the agony in his heart because it was for the good of all. I might not have been so noble. A kiss is not just a kiss. A bite is just not a bite. And all beautiful friendships have notable beginnings.

All of the women who went to view the movie with us said I reminded them of the Beast. I asked why. They said it was that we were both cute. I do not understand, but I smile without my fangs to be polite. I do not want them to ever consider me a beast. I thought of the Wolf Folk. I do not ask Gillian about it because she would only roll her eyes at me.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I had a dream about dancing with Gillian in a huge ballroom. She wore a yellow ball gown. I’d never seen her look so beautiful. We danced around the floor with eyes only on each other, then the chairs around the edge of the room started to move towards us. When they started to attack I woke.

Tonight I went out to more adult places to hunt. I had had enough of fairy tales and talking furniture. At one intersection there were bars, alleys, dark corners, and people wanting companionship, if only for a night.

When I arrived home, full from a successful night, the cats and Jane were waiting.

Gillian came out wearing something pretty, yellow, extremely small, lacy, and almost completely transparent.

She held out her hand and led me towards the stairs to the bedroom. “It will be fun,” she whispered.

“I have an idea for some games,” I said.

“Be my guest,” said Gillian, as she put her lips to mine in kiss that would enchant the coldest heart and deadest soul. Then she…oh yes she did.

And she was telling the truth. It was fun.

~ Vlad

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trigger Words and Neutrality

A year or two ago I read an article that some colleges (not any my kids will ever go to) were telling professors to not say certain “trigger words” so sensitive students wouldn’t get upset and kill someone, kill themselves, cry, attack classmates, get depressed, or drop out of school.

No kid should be that sensitive. My feeling is that kids in college need to learn to backhand trigger words like Venus Williams backhands a tennis ball. Bring it on. Make it a sport.

We banter and discuss and generally talk a lot at my house. It’s a good thing. If someone throws an issue out there we’ll talk about it, or at least acknowledge it.

But still, we all have our trigger words. I can hear my husband whispering to the kids, “don’t say that around your mom. It’s a trigger word.”

I have a long list of trigger words that have the potential of sending me right on top of my soap box with a tirade of well grounded opinions. I dare say I’m sure I’ll offend some of my readers but here it goes. Yes, this is a warning. You can leave now if you want to.

Juliette’s Trigger Words and Phrases and Subjects With Pictures

Anything to do with the Trump family. In case you don’t know who they are I’ve posted this photo of them. (from left to right Melania, Donald Jr., Eric, Ivanka)

My political trigger words include: Trump, Shitgibbon, Bannon, EPA, Arts, Education, DeVos, Melania, Trump Children, Marla Maples, AND about a million other words…you get the direction this group is moving in. I also have no kind words for those who are bigoted against my LGBT friends, those who are obsessed with marriage, the sex lives of others, or any other kind of ignorant and hateful bigotry.

Don’t talk to me about RELIGION. That is YOUR business. When I hear the following it drives me NUTS:

  • It happened for a reason.
  • It is God’s will.
  • God has a plan.
  • God had a reason for it.
  • The Bible says so.
  • God only gives you what you can handle (if that is the case then most people I know can handle about six nuclear wars, a plague of yellow jackets, and rattle snakes in their beds, and their ex-lovers in their shower – all of their ex-lovers at the same time naked in the shower with them and NO HOT WATER.)

You get where this is going too. I’m not an atheist by any means (read my blog) but ugh. And don’t even get me started on people who say they don’t believe in science or evolution. Trigger trigger trigger trigger.

Vampires. 

I’m not going to bash Twilight because it got so many teens to start reading. They went from Twilight to other books and that was a good thing. BUT don’t talk to me about Twilight. Don’t. Just DON’T. I don’t want to hear it. I also don’t want to hear anyone say, “I don’t like to read about Vampires.” Fine then don’t fucking read about them. You don’t have to tell me about it.

Other literary and film triggers:

I don’t like (I despise) Eat Pray Love, Bridges of Madison County, Steel Magnolias, Little Women, 50 Shades of Whatever BUT –  I don’t care what you like to read as long as you’re reading. Just don’t question what I read. In fact don’t question what anyone reads. If you want to bash a genre then fuck you. We all have our ways to relax in private with a book. It isn’t for anyone to judge what anyone likes to read. With one exception….

Self-Help Books

90% are SCAMS and GARBAGE that spout Sunday School crap to confuse people, rip them off, make them feel bad, and … it just pisses me off. There are a very few good books out there for those looking for help, but proceed with caution or you’ll have me screaming.

All of that said…

I usually don’t say anything UNLESS I’m with my husband and children. I’m talking about real  life, not Twitter, or someplace else on the Internet (which by is now going to be a place where YOU will be sold like a piece of meat.) I’m speaking of real life.

In real life I tend to be neutral. I’m like Switzerland. I don’t take sides. I distract others away from trigger situations. I move conversations forward and back to where those conversations should be. I can take the most hair-brained off-target discussion and steer it back to where it is supposed to be. And unlike this post, it will all be in a thoughtful and usually good-natured way. My voice is calming and quiet. I’m like cool jazz background music, that calms, but you aren’t even sure you even heard it.

So I’ll rant about my triggers words right here, right now (don’t tell me later that the Jesus Jones ear worm is from me) because this is MY BLOG. I’ll turn it back to you later on with something witty, useful, and profound, and maybe marginally entertaining.

In the world of Vampires we see a lot of things come and go. We try to take everything in stride knowing that most things do pass. Then again a lot of things don’t pass (no puns please) and so THAT is why it is OK to get mad, speak out, vent, and use your voice sometimes.

That’s it.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

And this is a bunch of guys in hats for no special reason.

 

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: One Night

Andy opened his eyes. His head was still in tact, or at least he imagined it hadn’t completely exploded.

She’d called his name then jumped in his lap, knocking over the chair he was sitting in. As he tried to move he discovered his hair was caught under the top of the chair back. Someone pulled Taylor off of him, and helped him up.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said to everyone who asked.

Taylor, a small young woman with a black bob and a quick smile, was fighting back tears. Andy figured at least three if not four fingers were broken, and maybe some other bones in her beautiful delicate hands.

He kissed her hand. Some of the pain went away. Then he slipped her six fresh one hundred dollar bills.

“This should cover your deductible and any other expenses tonight. Call me tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing. I’ll come see you.” Then he kissed her cheek. “We have to stop having so much fun.”

He declined help and decided to walk towards home. He’d had enough of clubs, and people, and the last place he needed to be was a hospital. Unknown to most of his friends he was a Vampire. He’d be fine.

As he walked along the city streets he thought about all of the women he’d ever known and all of the parties he’d ever been to, and all of the stupid things he’d ever done. His mind wandered to lost loves, and music, and how hungry he was. His head still hurt. The fall was harder than he’d initially thought. Blood would be good right now but he didn’t want to put out the effort for anything fresh. There was blood at home in the refrigerator.

He took out his phone and pulled up his Uber app, and called for a ride. It was another four miles at least to his house and he was tried of walking.

A song would take his mind off of it all. He started to hum the St. Motel song Midnight Movies. And right as he got to the verse,

Stories get told, I hear the plotlines unfold, it seems they’re handing me gold
Stories get told here at the midnight movies

The back of his head exploded in pain again. Someone, or something had slammed into him. He stumbled and went down on his knees, the palms of his hands scraping the sidewalk. He was grabbed and someone dragged him into an alley.

He heard a voice in his ear, “Andrew Todd, there you are in your long hair, and your Vicuna coat, and your expensive jeans, and your Italian shoes, thinking you’re better than the rest of us.

Andy smelled the foul breath in his face. It was a mix of old blood, rotting flesh, and dog farts. Opening his eyes he saw three figures. Vampire trash for sure. Shadow creeping bastards who lurked around in the dark damp corners of the city.

“Come on guys. Don’t make any problems with me. I’m one of you.”

The three, one large, one medium size, and one small, looked at him with dark lifeless eyes, showing their fangs.

“You think you’re better than us. Well you’re not, you perfume sucking faggot,” the smallest and ugliest one hissed at him.

Andy knew better than to try and argue with them. They were idiots, but dangerous idiots. They circled him, three against one.

A car stopped in front of the alley. A large man yielding a sword stepped out.

“Hey, ass-wipes,” he yelled, and he swung the sword. Three heads went flying into the alley, rolling like bowling balls down the lane.

Andy got to his feet and staggered back.

“Hey man, don’t worry, I’m your ride,” said the driver.

“You’re a Vampire Hunter,” said Andy, still sort of in shock.

“Sure, but I don’t go after your kind. Get in. Go on. I won’t hurt you.”

Andy gave the driver a large tip, locked the front door of his house, and went to the kitchen for blood. A small orange cat wound around his feet purring. He stroked it’s head and said “good kitty.”

Then he texted Taylor’s boyfriend to see how she was doing, went upstairs, and fell into bed.

A few hours later he woke to find a beautiful woman sitting next to his bed. She was dressed in jeans and a white button down men’s dress shirt, with pearls around her neck and on her ears. Chestnut waves of hair fell down her back. She stroked his cheek. He took her cool hand.

“Mom,” he said.

“I had a feeling my baby was hurting. Oh Andy, you have to be more careful.” She put her hand on his forehead and his headache vanished.

“Thanks.” After 163 years there was still nothing better than to have his mom there for him.

His phone dinged with a message. His mother picked it up. “That was Taylor’s mom. She wanted you to know she is going to be fine. Three broken fingers, and a broken bone in her hand, but no surgery is required. She wanted to know if you were ok. I texted back that you’re ok.”

Then she smiled, with a little big of fang, that beautiful smile that all moms have when they know their children are alright, and that they will be alright.

~ End

Short Story Sunday at Vampiremaman.com

 

 

Musings on Parenting and Vampires

Love is in the air. I know because by 4:00 am the turkeys are already out making their gobbling love calls all over the neighborhood. They’re in the park, in front yards, in side yards, in driveways, on the sidewalks, and in the streets.

Sleep is also still in the air for teens who have nearly an impossible time getting up in the morning. Bribes of coffee and blood & berry smoothies goes on sleepy deaf ears.

But now I’m fast forwarding to school where the child texts me and says she needs $200 for AP tests (Advanced Placement.) If a Junior or Senior pass an AP test then they might be able to skip a college class. And why yes, the fees are cheaper in states I don’t live in.

So while I get texts from the kids, and listen to the turkeys, rain, and leaf blowers from the gardeners next door, I’m trying to think of a plot twists over coffee.

I explained what I was trying to do with the plot twists to my 17-year-old daughter.

“Don’t do something stupid with it. It has to be realistic, but not stupid,” she told me.

Thanks for the advice honey. I’ll be driving back to school in an hour to drop off the AP test fees.

I think about all of those Vampires who spend their days doing lofty things like fighting off rival Werewolf gangs, or lurking around in formal wear with blood dripping down their chins, or discussing with a far off Vampire council the paranormal forces and fuck it, that just isn’t the world I exist in.

This afternoon I’m meeting with an attorney. I’ll be getting about a pint of blood from him, and as usual I’ll leave cookies and juice (just like at the blood bank.)

Other than that things are pretty normal, not just for me but for most of us. By normal, I mean we’re not living some Peter Cushing/Christopher Lee movie script. Sure there are those assholes and misfits who lurk under floorboards, and graveyards. There are those without souls who haunt dark places in the cities. But who needs that? Seriously, WHO needs THAT.

We tell our kids, and other young Vampires that they have a choice. This goes for any kid.

There are choices. They don’t have to do what is expected by media or public opinion. They don’t have to be like everyone before them. If you’re different you can still be with everyone else. You know why? Because even if you’re different, you’re probably more like everyone else than you think. You’ll fit right in and be happy and nobody will know the difference. As long as they don’t know you’re a Vampire (or whatever) then do what you want.

So put away that red lined cape, and put on some jeans. Believe me, it will make dinner a lot easier. Then again, a little black dress is never a bad thing (but that is another story.)

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

Slut

A story from my friend Bart. He’ll tell you all about it (you might have heard this before but it is a story well worth repeating – I’m sure a lot of you can relate.)

Slut

A lot of us have kids in college, or starting college in the next year or two. One of the big things everyone is talking about is sexual assault on campus or in college towns. I’ve talked about it with my two kids who are in college. Everyone has, at least everyone who is a decent parent.

So I get this call from Hodge Williams. Yes, that Hodge Williams. Everyone remembers him.

“Bart, how are you?” As soon as he spoke I wondered what he wanted.

“Hodge. Fine. Great. Life is good. What’s up?”

“I’m writing a story on the history of sexual harassment and violence at universities in the US. I tried to contact your sister but she wouldn’t return my calls.”

“Beth?”

“Yes, Beth. She kind of got around so I was thinking she might have experienced first hand, you know, she was at risk.”

“What do you mean by at risk?”

“Oh come on, your sister was a slut. Everyone knew it.”

I sat there with the phone a bit stunned. He just called my sister a slut.

“Hodge, you’re an asshole. In fact you’ve always been an asshole.” I hung up the phone. What an asshole.

After sitting for a few minutes and collecting my thoughts I called my sister and told her about the conversation.

“What an asshole,” she said. “Sure I was sleeping with his best friend without the benefit of being his best friend’s official girlfriend. OK I also slept with another one of his friends but we were in college. We were young.”

“Did you ever sleep with Hodge?”

“No. Hell no. He was always making passes at me and grabbing me. Hodges had that Madonna/Whore things going on in his head. A girl was either a virgin until marriage or a whore. Plus we’re not like him, you know the religion thing, so he just assumed I was a whore.”

“But you didn’t have sex with him.”

“I know. That makes me a whore. He called any girl who wouldn’t have sex with him a whore.”

“What an asshole.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. I mean, if the guy had asked me to go see a movie or go for a walk or just spent time talking that would have been different but he was just all over me like…yuck. He really called you? I can’t believe he’d have the gall to do that. Asshole.”

After we got off the phone with the promise of a lunch date later in the week I got to thinking about my own kids.

I’d spoken with both my daughter and son about sexual predators. I’ve done the best to teach them not to be bully bait. I’ve taught them to stand up for themselves and for others.

From experience I knew that bullies never grow up and most don’t change.

Hodge never got the answer he wanted. Over the years Beth had a few close calls with sexual predators but she always ended up safe either by being with friends or using physical force to get out of it (exactly twice as she told me.) That didn’t include unwanted advances by guys like Hodge. And even though Hodge didn’t use force it still hurt emotionally that he’d think so little of her or of any girl.

I wanted to pound the crap out of him. Then I thought about how many other women out there who thought the guy was an asshole. That made me smile. Spread the word ladies, spread the word.

That evening after work I talked to my wife about it. She shook her head and said she’d had similar experiences. More anger surged through my brain, then sadness deep in my soul.

We all judge others. We all make assumptions. We all call names even if it isn’t out loud. We all talk behind the backs of others. Maybe we need to stop. It isn’t easy. It isn’t even practical.

Anyway, if you see Hodge Williams call him and an asshole, and tell him that Beth and Bart don’t say hello.

 

An Afternoon Haunting Over Coffee (With A Ghost)

Some are haunted by the thoughts of “what if.”

Some are haunted by loves lost and missed opportunity.

Some are haunted by terrors in their closets, that come out at night and stare at the foot of their bed with lifeless black eyes, and claws like razors.

Some, like me, are haunted by another kind of ghost.

This afternoon, as I was working on an outline for a book, I heard music coming from the family room of my house.

Telegram force and ready
I knew this was a big mistake
There’s a fine line drawing
My senses together
And I think it’s about to break
If I listen close I can hear them singers, oh
Voices in your body coming through on the radio

The union of the snake is on the climb
Moving up it’s gonna race it’s gonna break
Through the borderline

Nightshades on a warning
Give me strength at least give me a light
Give me anything even sympathy
There’s a chance you could be right
If I listen close I can hear them singers, oh
Voices in your body coming through on the radio

The union of the snake is on the climb
Moving up it’s gonna race it’s gonna break
Through the borderline

I looked from where I was sitting in the breakfast room to see a figure singing and slowly swaying to the music. Black shining shaggy hair came down to the top of his shoulders, hiding the collar of his white shirt. He turned and glared at me. The music stopped. His form went in and out of an odd translucent state. I hate it when they do that. I hate Ghosts.

Then he started to talk. “You’re writing. How quaint. Well, maybe it isn’t so quaint considering you’re a blood sucking cold as death Vampire. Have you prepared your speech for the National Book Awards yet?”

“Go away Nigel,” I said to The Ghost.

And he continued to talk. “You should write something edgy that you can make into a movie. How about a powerful handsome black man, played by Michael B. Jordan who marries a beautiful blonde played by Jennifer Laurence. He promotes one of his younger men, played by Zac Efron over an older man. The old guy, that would be Robert De Niro, gets pissed and makes the Michael B. Jordan character think Jennifer Laurence is having an affair with the young guy and…”

“Othello.”

“I know, I know, but do a new twist on it. Make everyone black except make Othello white. Othello sounds sort of Italian. He could own a chain of successful upscale restaurants. You can add in a character called Mama Othello. Kathy Bates. It would be great. You could get the current pop-star-de-jour to do the music. Someone like Ariana Grande.”

“Go away Nigel, you’re bothering me.”

“Good. That was my intention.”

I continued to work on my writing trying to ignore him.

“I need coffee.”

I ignored him.

“Coffee would be nice. You could have some too. Heaven knows you could use it.”

I continued to work.

“You could write a book about a widow who goes to live in a big house by the ocean that is haunted by a handsome ship captain. The ship captain falls in love with her, but she lives in real world, and he tells her to find someone with a real body. And she writes. She writes his story and doesn’t have to move back with her horrible in-laws from Hell. Then she gets involved with some married shit for brains asshole. She goes home and finds out that her daughter knew about the ghost all along, then she dies and is with the man she loves, you know, the ship captain. It is so sad and romantic, kind of like a Nicholas Sparks novel. Did you know he went to the same high school as your kids? Not the ship captain, but Sparks. Lynn Anderson the singer went there too. Tom Hanks, Hill Harper, and I also went there. I went there too. Did you know that?”

I continued to ignore him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. It is one of your favorite movies. About a GHOST no less. You’re such a fucking hypocrite, even for a Vampire.”

I continued to try to write.

“The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. You like Ghosts. Admit it.”

“Enough. I’ll make coffee.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way, I hate Ghosts.”

“I am not particularly fond of Vampires.”

We sat at the table and watch the rain with hot mugs of coffee. Nigel put his face over the mug and took in the scent. I drank mine with half and half.

He looked down at my pad of paper where I made notes. I use both computer and yellow legal pads.

“Do you think you’ll ever…” he started to say something.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I like it.”

I looked up. He locked his eyes in mine.

“This is good Juliette.”

“Thank you,” I said, and finished my coffee.

“You should…”

“Don’t.” I shook my head and looked away.

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t tell you. Don’t you ever say I did not tell you,” he said.

Then he smiled and vanished in a gray wisp of smoke, that smelled like coffee and the ocean.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Who and what haunts your days, nights, and even your coffee?