Gasoline and Tiger Maple

Andy had dined with his friends Ramon and Sophia. They were always a treat. Tonight there was an interesting mix of high blood alcohol levels mixed with a slight after taste of cocaine and a hint something he couldn’t quite identify. It might have been Morphine.

Hell, it could have been chocolate for all he cared. It was good to come home to friends who were funny and smart and oh so accommodating to his needs.

After two weeks out of town playing Don Giovanni he was ready to become himself. It was good to be Andy again. It was good to be home in San Francisco where he didn’t have to worry about snow.

He parked in the garage and threw his vicuña overcoat on one of the kitchen stools. The pile of mail was already on the table where the neighbor had left it for him. It was the usual bills and magazines. A postcard from his girlfriend Shawna was on the top. She was in Chicago lecturing on flying dinosaurs. He smiled. The postcard was Van Gough’s self-portrait from the Art Institute. She’d remembered that he’d told her about it when they’d first met. One of the reasons he loved her was because she remembered the little things.

Smiling as he poured a shot of Bourbon he quietly sang “La ci darem la mano” thinking of Shawna. There was a sudden warmth in the air that wasn’t from the Bourbon or thoughts of love. Someone else was in the house.

Andy made a mental note to call the alarm company. Son of a bitch.  He walked to the living room and saw them – a man and a woman dressed in black. They had guns, silver crosses and knives. Vampire Hunters.

“Andrew Todd.” The man said his name as a fact, not a question.

“I’m sorry the show is over for the night you have to leave before the stage manager throws you out.” He laughed at his own joke then downed the Bourbon. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“You’ve lived your lie for too long.”

“What lie? Do you put everything about yourself out to the world? Well?” Andy was going to make a joke about putting it all on Twitter but thought the better of it.

The woman held up the cross. “Oh please,” said Andy, “that isn’t going to harm me. We’re all God’s children around here.” Damn Vampire Hunters. They didn’t know a thing about Vampires, much less hunting them.

The woman looked surprised. Very surprised. Andy just smiled and calculated what he’d do about the situation.

Suddenly the man poured gasoline against the antique buffet against the wall.

“Hey, no. That’s tiger maple. Awww man, don’t do that.”

The man spun around to face the Vampire. “We’ve been watching you Todd.”

“I’m feeling really violated here. If you burn my house down…I mean, really, in this neighborhood?”

The man poured more gasoline as the woman pointed a gun at Andy.

“Do you really want to do this? What good would it do killing me?”

The man started to talk of evil and darkness. It was some sort of mumbo jumbo sort of spell or chant. From the bowels of darkness, cursed undead, blood of our ancestors spilled by your unholy trinity of death, blood and carnal desires. Unrelenting evil…

“Oh come on,” said Andy. “That isn’t going to do anything except make you sound even more stupid than you already are. Look at me.”

“Don’t look at the Vampire in the eyes,” screamed the woman.

Andy walked towards the man then quickly grabbed his neck. “Look at me. I’m just like you. We even have the same eye color. We’re not that different. Look at me. Look at my eyes or I’ll tear fucking your head off. Now let go of the gas can before you hurt yourself. Besides, you’re tired. Close your eyes, fall asleep, dream of warm tropical breezes and sweet kisses from a woman so hot that she’ll burn your skin.”

The man collapsed onto a large wing back chair dead asleep.

Andy looked at the woman. “You want a glass of wine? A cocktail perhaps? Help yourself. I’ll just be a minute. One more thing, put the gun down and stand still, right there. If you don’t I’ll kill you. Capisce?”

The Vampire sank his teeth into the man’s neck for just a minute. Enough time to keep his prey in sweet dreams for a few more minutes, and in nightmares for a few more months.

“I’m done drinking for the night Jenna. Yes my dear, I know your name. I got it from your friend here.”

He took her hand and led her to the formal living room. Music started. His hand went to her waist. “Dance with me.”

Jenna attempted to pull away from the cold grip of the Vampire. “No, I won’t dance with a Vampire”.

Andy pulled her closer. “Then just dance with the guy who can sing.”

“Please spare me from a fate worse than death. I will die a thousand deaths before I become one of the undead.”

“Oh cut the Gothic melodramatic crap. I’m the one who was born in the 1851. You don’t hear me talking like that. Jesus, I’m not going to turn you into a Vampire. Have you ever met a Vampire before tonight?”

“No.” Her voice sounded small, more like a child than a grown woman.

“Jenna, dear, you have a good heart but the enemy you need to be chasing isn’t Vampires or Werewolves or whoever you think need chasing. The enemy is ignorance and bigotry and hatred.  Fight for the equality of women and the rights of children. Fight for those who don’t have a voice. Fight for the freedom of expression and art. Fight for a cause that matters.”

She looked into his hazel blue eyes and swayed as if she was going to faint. The man, still slumped on the chair croaked out “don’t listen to him Jenna.”

Andy shot a glance at the man. “One more noise from you and I’ll rip your heart right out of your chest with my bare hands. Do you understand? And I’ll send you the bill for the damage to my furniture and floors.”

He went back to the woman. “What am I going to do with you? You’ve broken into my home. You’ve damaged a valuable and beautiful piece of furniture. You’ve invaded my privacy. You’re lucky you didn’t touch my piano. What I should do is call the police.”

“You’re a Vampire.”

“So tell me something I don’t know. I pay taxes. I own a home. I vote.”


“Jenna, stop.  I’m not happy about what you and your boyfriend have done here tonight. Plus you’re a bigot who got nothing what so ever from my speech to you about bigotry and ignorance. What the hell is wrong with you? Honestly?”

Andy ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. The house reeked of gasoline and fear. The morning sun just started to come through the windows. He turned back to Jenna.

“The only reason I’m letting you live is because I don’t want to deal with your bodies. I already have enough of a mess. The reason I’m not calling the police is because I’d rather not have to deal with a trial. In the meantime every Vampire on the West Coast will know your names and what you’re up to. You can’t hide. You will never be able to hide from us. So if you’re smart you’ll stay as far away from any Vampires or Vampire Hunters as you humanly can. Now, I am going to take my bags upstairs. When I get back down I want you gone.”

After they left Andrew surveyed the damage. He’d have to call the furniture guy and the alarm company. Someone would have to take a look at the rugs and the hardwood floors.

But before he did any of that there was someone else he needed to call. Andy dialed the number he knew so well. She picked up on the first ring. He closed his eyes and sat down. “Hey Mom. I’m home. Can you come over?”

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


This was first published here in March of 2014.

We’re different. Unfortunately that could be a problem.


Sabrina had come into our lives with a sweep of silk skirts and an attitude that made everyone stop – and smile.

When I was a child the world was a place where anything was possible. It was different in so many ways, yet it was the same in so many ways.

Different in that we didn’t have the technology we have today. The same, in that people were full of hate, especially for women.

That was the advantage of growing up in the Vampire community. We didn’t care. We were all equal among our own. We knew, that if they knew, they would hate and fear us. So as always, we kept quiet.

There were different groups among our kind, and of course we sometimes give each other the stink eye and talk trash about each other. We’re still a little bit human. But I feel that most of us have evolved. We don’t always agree. We don’t always embrace our differences, but at least we’re not 24/7 assholes about it.

Sabrina came out to California with the second wave of our kind in 1855. Despite the fact that she was engaged three of my brothers had crushes on her. They were just boys at the time, but her charm kept them at her beck and call.

The reason I bring her up is not because of how darling my brothers made of their pre-teen selves over her, but because she had an idea that Vampires should come out of their proverbial crypts and be open about who they were. My mother argued that abolition and women’s rights were the fight she should have been backing, but Sabrina wouldn’t hear of it.

For the most part Sabrina remained publicly quiet, but she took chances. She thought she could trust people – warm blooded people.

In the spring of 1870, on April 23 to be exact, Sabrina vanished. We all knew she wouldn’t be coming back, despite the fact that her husband searched everywhere for her, for years and years and years.

Even before the popular pop culture of Vampires there were still those who knew about us, and others who were different. Why should we have expected anything different than the Irish, or Chinese, or Women, or anyone who wasn’t white and male. It was just the way it was. There were always brave souls fighting it. But the Vampires and the Werewolves kept quiet, because we were also Irish, Chinese, women, white, black, male, but we were profoundly different. We were profoundly scary.

So that was that. I rarely wear a long dress anymore, in fact I rarely wear a dress, but some things never change. Even the ancient Vampires will tell you that. It is unfortunate but true. Ignorance is always the winner.

Try explaining that to your kids, and then tell them to keep hope, then tell them that they can change the world. Maybe they will change the world. We can only hope – and hope for the better.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


Short Story Sunday: The Rally

Andy stood in the dark on his back patio looking at the night sky.  He sang softly to himself, barely audible.

L’amour est un oiseau rebelle
Que nul ne peut apprivoiser,
Et c’est bien in vain qu’on l’appelle
S’il lui convient de refuser.
Rien n’y fait, menace ou prière.
L’un parle bien, l’autre se tait.
Et c’est l’autre que je préfère.
Il n’a rien dit mais il me plait.

Turning around he found his brother Max standing by the French doors that lead to the patio. Andy in his jeans and white dress shirt was in stark contrast to Max’s all black, mostly leather ensemble.

Max smiled. “I’m still in awe of the beauty of your voice baby brother.”

Andy gave Max a bro hug. “Thanks. You worked tonight?”

“I’m keeping the world safe for Vampires everywhere.”

“And you’re greatly appreciated by all of us.”

Max was a hunter of Vampire Hunters. Andy was an opera singer. Both were Vampires. And they were brothers, with the same chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes that could go pitch black on demand.

“Tonight,” Max began, “I was off from work and looking for a bite to eat, and I ended up in an alleyway with an incredibly angry woman.”

“Were you going to…”

“No. I’d passed some sort of event, people were mingling outside. One of them called me a faggot when I walked by.”

“What an asshole.”

“It doesn’t matter. At least it didn’t then. You know I’ve never cared what they think. I’m not one of them.”

“You’re the most standoffish Vampire I know.”

“Like I said I’m not one of them. But tonight was different. She got to me.”

Andy smiled. “Love?”

“No. Of course not. I turned the corner into an alley, and there stood a woman, alone. Someone yelled, “You’re a cunt Diana. You know that? Would you rather hang with a bunch of fucking rug munchers and queers?” She didn’t respond to him.

She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Have you ever known what it is like to be different? To be hated? Do you know what it is like to feel hated for not hating?”

Not a single warm blooded human has ever asked me that. “Why were you there?” I asked her. I wanted to know what would have convinced her to be at such an event.

“A couple of coworkers asked me along. One of them has a friend I kind of liked. I thought it would be interesting. I had no idea how interesting. It was like going back to 1930’s Germany. The guy I liked was that asshole who yelled at me.” She looked at me in an odd way. “Why were you there?”

“I wasn’t there.” I told her. “I just got off from work. I was just passing by, on my way to get a bite to eat. There’s a wine bar a few blocks from here. Please join me. We can talk.” As we left the alley there were more jeers. I turned to the men and gave them the most awful visions. One fell on the ground clutching his stomach. Andy, you would have been proud of me.”

“So tell me about her,” said Andy. “What did you talk about? Did you talk?”

“We talked for about three hours. She asked me if I was gay.”

“Did you tell her your preferences?”

“That I am attracted to both, but mainly women? Yes. She didn’t blink and eye.”

“Then what?”

“We talked. Then we walked for a while. I drove her home. Then I kissed her cheek. She didn’t even mention that my lips were cold or my eyes had gone almost black in color. It wasn’t romantic, but I’m going to watch after her. She might not know it, but she’ll never be alone, or unsafe.”

“What about dinner? Was it her?”

“No, some guy in the bathroom of the bar. It was fast and easy.”

Andy didn’t ask the reason for the rally and Max didn’t mention it.

About an hour later, on the drive home, Max watched the sunrise through the rain. He tried not to think too much about the night. He could have killed the men who called him names and yelled at Diana, but he didn’t. There was a lot he could have done, but instead he decided to perform the rare act of listening. Just listening.

After dropping his clothes on a chair he texted a Vampire he was trying not to fall in love with and asked her to come over. Then he climbed into bed and closed his eyes to the new day.


~ End


Note: I wrote this after listening to my teenager talk about what is going on in the news and the bigotry and hate and sheer ignorance we hear coming out of so many public mouths. This is a quickly written sort story, and not great literature (or even a great story) but I hope you understand the meaning behind it. Haters are going to hate but wouldn’t it be nice if they didn’t hate and didn’t spread that hate to others. It is something we all must think about if we value our freedoms and the future of our children (who are usually smarter than we are.) ~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman.







We’re Not so Different

I’m continuing the Vampire Maman Christmas Story Fest with this tale from my friend Mandy White. “We’re Not so Different” can also be found in the WPaD anthology Tinsel Tales.

We’re Not so Different

By Mandy White

My daughter was clearly upset when she arrived home from school. Crystal tossed her pink, sparkly book bag into the corner and gave it a kick.
“Bad day, honey?” I asked.
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she ducked her chin and pouted as only a twelve-year-old can.
I waited. Finally she looked at me.
“Is it true?” she demanded.
“Is what true, sweetie?”
“That we’re going to Hell?”
“What? Where on Earth did you get that idea?”
Crystal mumbled something unintelligible.
“Pardon me?”
“Becky Bullock! I hate her so much!” she ranted. “Just because her father’s a minister she acts like she’s God and treats everyone else like dirt!”
“Now, I hardly believe God would treat anyone like dirt, honey. Come here and talk to me.” I sat on the sofa, shoving aside a pile of towels I had been folding so she could sit beside me. Crystal plopped into the cushion, arms folded, glaring at the wall across the room.
“Why exactly does Becky think we are going to Hell and she is not?” I asked her. I suspected I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from her classmate’s perspective as well as hers.
“Because of my report,” she said.
“Your report?”
“Yeah, we were all supposed to do an essay about holiday traditions and I did mine about the Christmas tree. I didn’t know the stupid teacher was going to make us read them in front of the class.”
I nodded knowingly. I saw where this was going. “Go on,” I prompted.
“So anyway, my essay was about the Christmas tree, and how it’s Pagan in origin. Like the story Grandma told us, about how in the old days it was a custom to bring a live tree inside the house to symbolize life and good luck and all that junk.”
“You actually said it that way?” I laughed.
“Not really,” she went to her book bag and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to me.
I relaxed into the cushions to read the essay. I was impressed; it was quite good. Crystal explained how ancient Pagans believed evergreen trees had the power of eternal life because they stayed green through the dead of winter. During the winter Solstice, the darkest day of the year, they adorned their homes with the boughs of evergreens in hopes that the magic of the trees would bring the sun back for another year. It was said that the ‘sun was born’ during the Solstice. Feasts and celebrations were also held during this time to keep people’s spirits high and fend off the starvation that threatened during the lean months.
It was clear that Crystal’s depiction of the pre-Christian roots of some holiday traditions had offended her classmate, who had no doubt learned a different story in her household.
“So, at lunchtime Becky and a bunch of her snotty friends corner me and start teasing me, telling me that my whole family is going to Hell. ‘Jesus is the reason for the season!’ she says to me. Then she starts calling me a witch and a Satanist and a h-heretic!” Crystal sniffled and began to cry.
“What did you say to them?” I asked.
“I called them a bunch of assholes and then I ran away.” She peeked warily up at me from beneath tearstained eyelashes, checking to see if she was in trouble.
I burst out laughing. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. The mental picture of Little Becky Bible-Thumper and her friends’ faces after my daughter called them assholes just wouldn’t leave, and try as I might, I couldn’t help cracking up. That’s my girl, I thought. Your Great-Grandmamma would have been proud.
“That wasn’t very nice of you to say that. And it wasn’t nice of them to make fun of you either,” I told Crystal, who had begun to giggle through her tears at my reaction. “But, you could have gotten yourself in trouble. Remember the old saying, ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’. Becky is entitled to her beliefs just as much as you are.”
“But Mom!” Crystal insisted, “She doesn’t have to be mean about it!”
“No, she doesn’t,” I agreed. I put my arm around my daughter and cuddled her close. “You remember all the stories Grandma used to tell? The ones about her ancestors?”
Crystal nodded. “Yeah, that’s where I got the one about the tree stuff.”
“Well, then you also remember that our family lineage goes way, way back, to long before Christianity was even thought of. Our kind has been through happy times, and there have been dark times as well. Many of our ancestors were persecuted by the church and burned at the stake for things as trivial as practicing herbal medicine, or for voicing their own beliefs, much as you did today.”
“Which is why they’re a bunch of assholes!” Crystal said.
“From your perspective, it may seem that way. Try to think outside the box for a moment. Christians have also been persecuted for their beliefs in the past. Jesus was executed for the ideals he taught. Look at the Jewish people, and think of all that they have been through, or the Native Americans. No matter which culture, which religion you look at, you will find some point at which those people were victimized because their beliefs were different from someone else’s.”
“So everyone gets bullied, no matter what they believe, then. That doesn’t make it right.” Crystal observed.
“No, it doesn’t. It’s not a question of right or wrong, good or evil. From our own personal perspective, each of us is right, and the Creator has given us many paths to choose from. What’s great about the times we live in is that we are no longer in fear of being slaughtered for our beliefs. Neither is Becky Bullock’s family, or Jimmy Goldberg’s. We live in a time when a Wiccan child like you can learn in the same classroom as Becky, Jimmy, and all the other children who come from different cultures and backgrounds. Opinions will always differ, but if God is perfect, as Becky’s father teaches, then all must be right in the Universe.”
“So how am I supposed to deal with Becky next time she calls me a Satanist? Put a hex on her, or just punch her in the eye?” Crystal asked.
“Neither!” I laughed. “What you put out there is what you will get back, threefold. To quote your grandmother, ‘Remember ye the law of three. For what ye do comes back to thee’. Or, to put it in terms Becky might understand, ‘Ask, and ye shall receive’. So, to answer your question, if you approach a situation expecting disharmony, you will encounter disharmony. If you go into it intending harmony, then that is what you will get back. Somebody famous once said, ‘Peace is achieved through understanding, not conflict.’ Remember that Becky is not so different from you. She deserves to be treated with the same tolerance for her beliefs that you expect for yours.”
“Fat lot you know about bullies, Mom. The whole, ‘walk away’ thing doesn’t always work. I may still have to punch her in the face, just warning you.”
“If walking away doesn’t work, then ask her how Jesus would have handled the situation. That might make her stop and think. You think about it too. How do you think Jesus have reacted?”
Crystal shrugged. “I guess Jesus would have turned the other cheek. Isn’t that what the Bible says? To love your enemies and stuff like that?”
“Exactly. Treat others with compassion, even those who oppose you. It’s what my mother taught me, and what I’ve always told you. Our beliefs are not much different from what Jesus taught.”
“But I don’t love Becky! I can’t stand her! She’s just so… mean to everyone. Especially me.”
“You don’t have to be her best friend or anything. All I’m saying is, think before you react. Negative reactions won’t result in peace. If that doesn’t work… well, be sure to ask your teachers for some homework if you get expelled.”
“Becky might get expelled, too,” Crystal commented, a hint of hope in her voice.
“See? I told you, you aren’t so different from each other.”
We giggled and snuggled on the sofa. The Christmas tree sparkled in the corner, the angel at the top smiling down at us as we gazed out the window at the falling snow.
Copyright © 2013 Mandy White


Thank you Mandy!

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


Tinsel Tales download is now available for only $0.99. Part of the proceeds will go to MS Research. Click here.


Short Story Sunday: Rare Peace

“Shhhhhh. Don’t wake him up.”

Andrew opened his eyes. Two small faces blocked his view of the rest of the world.

“Hi,” said the girl.

“I’m free. My sista is five,” said the boy, then he held up his hand, showing five fingers on one, and three on the other. “I’m her baby bruber but, but, but, I’m not a baby anymo.”

Andrew tried to speak but pain and the inability to make a sound stopped him.

“Your neck was stabbed,” the girl told him. “Daddy said he would try to save your voice.”

“Daddy said you a singer. He said you a special pire,” said the small boy.

“Vampire,” his sister corrected.

Touching is neck Andrew felt a bandage. He closed his eyes and put his head back on the pillow. Where am I, he thought. Not that it mattered. He was in too much pain to care if anything mattered.

He tried to remember the night before. Was it the night before? The week before?

“Now get along children, don’t bother the man. Go on.” The children giggled and ran out of the room.

Andrew opened his eyes again. A huge bear of a man stood in the doorway. He held up what looked like a chestnut colored tail about a foot long. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Reaching to the back of his neck Andrew felt his hair. It had been hacked off right at his collar line. He hadn’t had it that short in forty years.

“You’re no Sampson but they tried to take what was important to you. First your voice, then your looks. They would have done more damage had they had more time. It looks like they were either trying to cut your vocal cords or cut your head off. By the way, you were naked as a jaybird when we found you. My wife has gone out to find you some clothes.” He chuckled and said, “You obviously can’t wear my clothes.”

No, he couldn’t. Andrew was a muscular but slim 6’2″. This man was at least four inches taller and seventy-five pounds heavier.

Memories started to come back to Andrew. He’d been wearing his favorite Armani tux. Damn, they’d taken it, whoever they were.

That night he’d sung with the Pacific Rim Chamber Orchestra. The theme was American Romantic. After drinks with friends he’d gone home with one of the violinists. Ramona St. Marie. She had blonde hair, skin like silk and type A+ blood. Ramona was perfection all wrapped up in satin sheets. She’d been a friend of his for years – always fun but never expected anything from him. Next he’d called a cab…then…then…nothing.

Since the 1870’s Andy had found himself naked in a lot of strange beds but it was usually good. He thought of last night. At 163 he was still young for a Vampire. He had a lot of good nights left in him.

Trying to speak again Andy found his voice had completely frozen up. He tried to sit up on the bed. Benjamin held out a large hand and helped Andy, who pulled the blanket around his waist. The two children, Wren and River came running back into the room and crawled up on the bed with Andy and started to giggle and bounce around.

“Children, sit still. Wren, precious, go get our guest one of those pads of paper from my office and a pen or pencil so he can write down what he has to say.”

As Wren ran out of the room in search for office supplies, another man entered the room. He was as average height but extremely thin and pale. His hair was in an auburn man-bun in back of his head. Hornrim glasses sat on his nose in front of two pale blue eyes.

“Ruben, I didn’t think you’d make it. Andy this is Ruben. Ruben this is Andy.”

The contrast between Ben’s large dark brown form and pale skinny Ruben was almost startling.

“Ruben here is a hair dresser by trade. He is also the best colorist in a hundred mile radius,” said Benjamin.

Ruben fluffed up Andy’s ruined hair with his hands. “Looks like there is enough to work with. I’ll fix you up and still leave you looking cool and sexy.”

Wren ran in with a pad of paper and a yellow pencil.

“Wren honey, yellow is lovely but we need something darker for Andy to write with. Could you bring back a darker colored pencil or pen?”

Wren ran back out of the room. River started to jump on the bed again. “Stop it River, or I’ll send you to your room,” said Benjamin. River stopped and sat next to Andy, leaning his small form into the Vampire.

Ruben put a towel over Andy’s shoulders and pulled out a stray bottle of water and scissors. Andy closed his eyes and put his trust in Ruben.

“Open your eyes beautiful,” said Ruben when he was done. “You’ve got a lot of wave in your hair.”

Andy looked into the mirror on the wall and saw soft waves surrounding his face. His hair looked good. He looked down and saw Wren who stood holding out a pad of paper and a purple crayon.

Taking the paper and crayon from Wren, Andy wrote one word. Why?

“You beautiful boy,” said Ruben, “haven’t you heard the debates? Haven’t you read the news? They came for our people already. They’ll be coming for your people soon, and when they do there will be no survivors.”

Andy wrote on the paper, “I’ve been dealing with Vampire hunters for a hundred years. My family has been dealing with them for centuries.”

Benjamin spoke this time, “This time it will be different. They’ll get the government involved. They’ll out you big time. Then you’ll be dead, or end up like the Zombies in a relocation camp.”

“Zombies are already dead,” wrote Andy with the purple crayon.

“So are you according to the government and the Vampire Hunters,” said Benjamin.

Wren took Andy’s hand again. “You’ll stay and be our friend?”

Andy smiled, minus his fangs, and gently squeezed Wren’s hand.

He looked out the window and noticed that it wasn’t morning but evening. The sun was starting to go down. A riot of pink and yellow could be seen in the sky through the trees. The pain in his neck started to go away but his voice was still raw.

He wrote a bit then held up the paper, “Vampire Hunters are a pain in the neck. HA HA HA.”

Then he wrote, “Thank you. Owe you big time. If there is anything, and I mean ANYTHING I can do, let me know.”

Benjamin and Ruben gave each other a look then looked at Andy.

“Stay true brother,” said Benjamin, “stay true.”

“Stay true,” said Ruben.

Ramona finally came home with clothes for Andy. The jeans and tee shirt fit. The flip flops were comfortable.

“You have to go commando. I wasn’t comfortable buying underwear for a man I don’t know,” said Ramona. “Your hair looks good. I don’t trust anyone with my head except Ruben.”

They talked into the night, and in the morning Andy called his sister to come get him.

It was a rare peace he found in this house in the woods with people who under stood what it was like to hide who and what you really are. Oh wouldn’t it be grand to live in a world where nobody had to hide. Andy know that would never happen for him. But at least there were a few places where it was safe and sane, where love was unconditional and true.

“So what did you do with the Vampire Hunters?” Andy had to ask in a horse whisper.

Benjamin, Ramona and Ruben all smiled.

“They’ve been take care of,” said Ruben.

Andy didn’t ask for any additional information. He’d heard answers like that before.


~ End


Yes, there will be more adventures with Andy’s new friends… just not today.


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman