Bad Dates and A Bit of Advice From My Brother Val (For Vampires and Other People)

“She was weird.”

That is what my brother Val told me when I asked him about a woman he’d met at a party at my brother Max’s house last month.

I have four brothers. Max is engaged, Andy is occupied and in love, Aaron is married, and Val is unattached. Like me, they’re all Vampires. We’ve always been that way. Anyway, back to my story about my single 161 year old brother.

This morning he came in from San Francisco. I figured he was still wearing a scarf around his neck because it was still cold outside, or he was just making a fashion statement.

“Why was she weird?” I asked.

“Lots of things.” Val told me. “She asked if I’d ever had baby blood. Then she went on and on about the old days and how Vampires dined on children. I told her it was bull shit and bad form. We were brought up better than that.” He ran his hand through his hair, something he did when he was flustered.

“Yuck,” I said. It was pretty yucky.

“She wasn’t born one of us. She was fascinated by the fact that I was. I hate it when other Vampires treat us like we’re magical or something.”

“She seemed pretty normal on your first date,” I said

“I know. I thought she was a bit forward and kind of quirky, but she was fun. Damn, she is gorgeous too. Not that looks are everything, but it helps.”

“I guess.”

“We’d been out to a couple of jazz clubs, then went back to her place. She was acting pretty normal by then, you know, not saying weird things. We started making out. It was nice. Then she ripped my shirt open and bit my neck. Not just a little love bite. She sunk her fangs into me.”

“Crap.”

“I pulled away and she ripped my flesh. She fucking ripped my neck open.”

“Val! Let me see.” I unwrapped the scarf from his neck. There was a gash where he’d put a butterfly over a two inch rip in his neck. Usually we heal faster than regular warmer blooded folks, but this was bad. Vampire on Vampire bites take longer to heal than most injuries. The area around the gash had started to turn purple and yellow.

“I swear I thought she was going to bleed me to death. I grabbed her and pulled her off of me. Then she had the audacity to tell me that I was hurting her.”

“What a bitch.”

“She was fucking crazy. After that you know what? She wanted me to go to bed with her. She laughed at me and told me how much she wanted me. No way in Hell was I going to spend another minute with her.”

“Oh Val.”

“My blood was dripping down her chin.”

“Yuck.”

“Then she texts me this morning asking me if I want a third date.”

“What did you do?”

“I blocked her.”

Val’s dates usually don’t go like this. In fact he has less drama in his world than any Vampire or regular person I know.

A while back I wrote a post about dating advice Val had for other guys. Keep reading.

First  posted in 2012

Uncle Val’s Advice on Women (for Vampires but it works for everyone)

My brother Val is visiting for the weekend. My kids Garrett (age 16) and Clara (age 13) adore him.

That said, he decided Garrett needed some advice on women. Not that Garrett needs it – every girl in his high school has a crush on him. Sometime I think he has a crush on every girl as well. But he is level headed and smarter than most boys his age when it comes to girls. Yes, Garrett is a bit of romantic but that’s ok with me. I’d rather him be a smart romantic than a stupid player.

Val is a 156 year old Vampire who definitely does not still live in the 19th century. He is single and savvy. He is also sweet and exceptionally caring, especially about the elders and children of our family and friends.

So this is how the conversation went.

Clara: Boys are stupid.

Val: Yes, they are.

Garrett: What about me.

Val: You’re her brother. You don’t count.

Garrett: What about girls? They aren’t perfect.

Val: Women are crazy but the craziness depends on the level of psychosis. They’re also smarter than we are so just admit it and let them know that.

Me (Juliette): So I’m smarter than you.

Val: No, you aren’t.

Me: Why is that?

Val: You’re my baby sister.

Me: You said boys are stupid.

Val: They are.

Teddy (my husband): He’s right.

Val to Garrett: Vampire girls are independent these days. It used to be that you’d just bring them a few small children or a baby and they’d be happy.

Clara and Garrett together: That’s gross.

Val: We don’t do that anymore.

Teddy: WE never did that.

Me: Your grandparents never did THAT.

Val: My point being that most Vampire women like to hunt for their own food. They don’t need guys to bring it to them.

Teddy: Keep digging Val.

And then we talked about general behavior and a few funny and awful stories but in the end Val passed on his time honored rules about women. Here they are…

Uncle Valentine’s General Rules About Women – If you like them and want to keep one around.

  1. Don’t talk about how much you love beer on the first sip. And I say sip. Don’t glug it. And unless you’re talking microbrews or party planning don’t talk about beer. Even then keep it brief.
  2. Don’t act like you are having a love affair with your car, motorcycle or truck. She doesn’t give a shit.
  3. Wear a decent shirt. Button down is best. Roll the sleeves up and show your forearms off. Women think that’s hot.
  4. Don’t act like a dog and paw all over her. Wait for her to give a signal and be a gentleman for God’s sake. Get crazy in bed after she says she wants to get crazy….excuse me my sister reminded me we have teenagers in the room.
  5. Use good table manners.
  6. Don’t take the last cookie unless you ask her if she wants it.
  7. Don’t talk about your ex-girlfriend/wife. Mention the ex once then STOP talking about it.
  8. Don’t bring her small children or babies…just kidding. But really, don’t do it. Vampires aren’t into that anymore.
  9. NEVER criticize her hair or tell her that she is too fat or too skinny – not even in a nice way. DON’T go there.
  10. If she clings and cries RUN AWAY.
  11. If she is needy RUN AWAY.
  12. If she is mean to you RUN AWAY.
  13. If she complains about everything RUN AWAY.
  14. If she shows more than a hint of jealousness RUN AWAY.
  15. If she talks about her ex too much RUN AWAY.
  16. If she wants you to buy her everything or complains you don’t spend enough on her RUN AWAY.
  17. If she laughs when her dog bites you RUN AWAY.
  18. If she is a Werewolf or a Goblin RUN AWAY.
  19. If you love her…just be careful. Make sure it is real and not infatuation.
  20. If she is a regular human and not a Vampire DO NOT GIVE HER YOUR HEART.
  21. If she isn’t a Vampire NEVER turn her into one. Don’t even think about it. Talk to me about this later.
  22. If you like her – tell her so.
  23. Have fun. Don’t lead her on. Don’t let her lead you on.
  24. Respect her.
  25. Show her respect. And expect her to respect you.
  26. If she is not a Vampire don’t use her for your main food source. In fact, if you’re dating don’t use her as a food source, period. Don’t mix food and sex or love.
  27. Women are crazy but you gotta love them. I love women. They’re like a drug and like any drug you don’t want to abuse it or over use it. Take what you need and don’t be greedy.

“OK Val, I said. I think that’s enough advice for the night.” I said.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Raven and Dove

true love with heart small

1600

My love,

Thou art devine with pale skin as cold as death, and as sweet as the darkest honey. Your wit only compares to the sharpness of your fangs. 

~ Raven

1782

Raven,

We have gained our independence and so I, after one hundred and eighty two years, ask to be set free of your servitude. What you say is love is but a shadow of the depth of what I have ever felt. I shall take the risk and head towards the West. Do not speak of savages for you are the savage, not the peoples of the wilderness.

~ Dove

1849

Darling Dove,

My sister wrote of you going out West for gold and fortune. What madness is this? You are a woman.

Raven,

I know I am a woman, but not a mere mortal. You are a fool. Do you forget that you are a Vampire? Do not follow me unless you wish to have your heart torn out, as you once tore out mine.

Dearest Dove,

You are correct. I send my deepest apologies.

Raven,

It is my sincerest wish that you end up like Poe, in the gutter with your story unfinished.

 

1880

Dear Raven,

When I saw you from across the street, your eyes meeting mine, I suddenly felt light. It was not from the lack of blood, for I had just dined, but from guilt, and memories of divine nights with you. Oh how I have missed our long talks, our friendship, and, do I dare admit, our love.

~ Dove

Dear Dove,

Alas, you have come back too soon. I have another love. Try your luck with the artists in town. I hear there is a lot of excitement, and maybe passion at the Bohemian Club. San Francisco is a big city now. There is plenty of activity for lone female Vampires like yourself.

~ Raven

Dear Raven,

My fondest wish is for you to choke on your own blood.

~ Dove

 

1920

Darling Dove,

I still can’t get over how swell you look with bobbed hair. I love running my hands through it. Thanks again for the weekend at the beach. Oh your legs are the best. Your the best all over. The sight of your fangs makes me crazy.

~ Raven

Dear Raven,

I had a lovely time too. It was over the moon. I hope to see you again soon.

~ Dove

 

1969

Dear Dove,

The advantage of hanging out with the hippies is that the drugs have no effect on us.

~ Raven

Raven,

They don’t wash. Their necks are filthy and taste horrible. I’m going to Colma to visit some old friends. Too bad they moved all of the cemeteries out of the city. Thank our stars that we choose to live in houses rather than crypts.

~ Dove

 

1986

Dear Raven,

Oh wow, you’re hair looked great tonight. I like the longer look on you. Thank God you’re not one of those men who wear open shirts and gold chains. On the other hand, all of those open shirts just make things easier, if you know what I mean.

~ Love you babe, Dove

 

Dearest Dove,

Yes, all of the stretchy new fabrics make life a lot easier for us Vampires. 

On a serious note, last night as we walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, I suddenly knew that no matter what, even for the next thousand years, that I would always love you. Always.

~ Raven

 

2019

Dear Raven,

When I saw you yesterday, your heart ripped out of your chest, your throat cut, and your eyes burned out, at that moment, my own heart died.

I am lost. So lost. Oh Raven. My dear, darling, Raven. If I had a soul you would have been my soul mate. I will always love you.

~ Dove

 

Dear Dove,

The strangest thing happened last night. The Vampire Hunters tried to kill me, but fortunately, about an hour after they left, my friend Bob, you know the Werewolf, came by. Good luck comes with the full moon. Anyway, you know Bob is a heart surgeon. He put my heart back in, jump started me with some of his own blood, and I’ll be as good as new in a few weeks. Even my eye sight is coming back. Unfortunately I have the sudden urge to chase balls (JK). 

Come over ASAP. Help me heal. I love you forever.

~ Raven

 

Dear Raven,

Forever.

~ Dove

 

red heart

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Stories Old and New

Dear Diary,

This morning two beautiful women came to my door. They asked me if I had thought about death. I told them “Not lately.”

Then they asked me what happens to us after we die.

I said, “If you’re lucky you’ll become a Vampire.”

They did not appreciate or understand my answer.

When the young men with white shirts and bicycles came later in the day I was perplexed.

“Why are you not in college, or learning a trade?” I ask them.

I tell them that they travel far from home but learn nothing of the world.

When I was young I traveled with my friend Randolpho to the great cities of Europe. We thought we knew everything when we left home, but soon discovered that we knew nothing. We saw our existence only from the viewpoint of the Vampires we were, and the Vampire culture we lived in. We had no reason to think there might be other ways to think about anything, or feel about anything.

I looked at the young men who had parked their bicycles at the end of my walkway. Then I said, “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”

The boys stood in a stupor as if they knew not what to say. One would think I had shown them my fangs.

“You are but children,” I told them. At that point I saw a Demon sitting in the top branches of the oak tree in my front yard, stretching it’s leathery wings. So I slammed the door and left the young men alone, on my front porch, under the tree. Since I did not hear screams or the sound of running feet slapping against the brick walkway I put it out of my mind.

I am a Vampire but I am not devoid of the teachings of scripture. On the other hand I avoid all dealings with Demons. All dealings.

A few minutes later, as I was pouring a bit of blood into my coffee I heard a scratching on my door. I thought that I must face the Demon and went to the front door fangs out with a large kitchen knife in my hand. It was only my cat. The Demon was gone. Good kitty.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today a buck was in my yard eating fruit off of a nectarine tree.

In my time… no that does not make sense for this is my time still, in a different time, a long time ago, when I lived in my Vampire castle as King of Vampires we had no nectarines. Nectaries are the fruit of the Gods and I have one of their threes.

My friend Randolpho and my love Gillian were at my home. I summoned them to the window to see the young buck with his downey horns.

“Bambi,” said Gillian.

“Indeed he is like Bambi,” said Randolpho.

“Who is this Bambi you speak of?” I asked

Gillian and Randolpho smiled, both showing a bit of their Vampire fangs. “We will show you,” they said together.

Upon the screen they showed me a story of uncompromising beauty. I sat on the couch, my hand in Gillian’s, transfixed by the story of nature and power.

When it was over I sat for a few moments to gather my thoughts. “You told me this movie was for children. Would they not be afraid or saddened by this story?” I asked Gillian and Randolpho.

“Oh Vlad,” said Randolpho. “When you were a tiny child your BaBa told you gruesome stories of death and you loved every single one of them.”

Yes I remember her stories, and many concerned fire. She told me of Glago the Inhaler who would have his men lock up a building, set it afire and roast everyone inside. Then Glago would open his great wide mouth and suck out the roasted folk, then spit out their bones. Then the trolls would come gather the bones to build the foundations of their bridges. No screams or cries of mercy would stop Glago the Inhaler when he was hungry, or even when he was not.

There were also many tales of Robert the Gnawer who would make lovers of men’s wives. If the man came in when Robert the Gnawer was in his bed with the woman it would not go well. Robert would jump up out of bed, grab the man, then then gnaw his head off, then slurp his brain through his nose, and spit out his teeth while the woman watched in horror. Then he would bid the woman goodby and leave her. Of course Robert would always send large bags of gold so that his lovers would never have to worry about being left out in the wild. So it was not all so bad.

“No,” I said. “Bambi is not like Glago the Inhaler, or Robert the Gnawer. They have no families, or mothers, or honor. They have no true friends such as Flower or Thumper. They are without mothers and without souls. They are only wind. Bambi is noble. If Bambi was a Vampire he would have taken out Man and his parent would have lived another day. Alas, he was but a small deer, but through his courage and wits he grew to be a great buck and saved the doe he loved, and then became Prince of the Forest.”

“I thought I saw you rubbing your eyes during the movie,” said Randolpho.

“Allergies,” I said. “Just allergies.”

I think sometimes of old stories. After being locked in a crypt for three hundred years I find I am also learning many new stories both true and false. It is now that false stories are called fiction, that is, unless they are lies and meant to deceive. It can be confusing but I am learning.

Or at least I think I am.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

As the sun came up I lay in bed with my love Gillian curled around my, her arm across my chest, her leg over mine.

I kissed the top of her her head and whispered thoughts of love in her ear. Her skin was cold. It was a welcome thing in this hot summer weather.

I thought about what a strange week it had been. Then I thought of back when I was the King of Vampires standing on the wall of my castle with the wind in my hair, looking over the vast horizon that was mine. I put that out of my mind and thought about the fact that I had to get a new set of tires for my car and take the cats in for their shots. The world is a different place. It will continue to be a different place.

The only constants are that Werewolves will turn on full moon nights, Vampires will drink blood, and lovers will love on hot summer nights.

I got up and closed the curtains to the sunrise and crawled back into bed with Gillian, to sleep and dream of what will come tomorrow.

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Reader, this has been the 50th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read the entire diary from the start CLICK HERE.

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lighthouse

Lighthouse

A story I’ve told before. I will tell it again tonight.

1880

He’d been found in the ocean, wearing a formal jacket with tails and clinging to the top of a grand piano. Underneath the man was a large gray wolfhound.

The captain of the ship that had picked him up said that he didn’t seem to remember much, or maybe did not want to remember. The dog, named Delilah, wouldn’t leave the side of her master.

At first they thought it was a ship wreck but it ended up being a complicated and strange mystery. The ship, a 200 ton brigantine had left Port of Talcahuano, in Chile three months before the mysterious man had been found in the Pacific Ocean north of San Francisco. Not a soul was on the ship, except the Captain who’d been found with a gun in his hand and what looked like a fatal self-inflicted bullet wound in his head. The life boats were still on the ship, as well as a cargo of wine and explosives, and the personal belongings of the few passengers and crew.

A break in an unusually strong and violent series of storms allowed them to dock and drop the man on the piano lid and his wolfhound off at the home of the lighthouse keeper’s family.

The lighthouse keeper checked in on the man who was sleeping in his guest room, dog curled by the bed. He could tell the stranger was wealthy by the quality of his clothing, the expensive watch and ring, and the formal refined way he’d spoken. His locked trunk had been recovered from the abandoned ship and now was at the foot of the bed.

The stranger said his name was Maxwell. He told them to call him Max. The first night there he’d drawn exquisite pictures for the light keeper’s wife of palm trees, and of beautiful women in fashionable dresses, and native women of South America with unusual hats and full colorful skirts. Over brandy he told them that he was 31 years old, born in 1849 when his pregnant mother had come out with his father for the California Gold Rush. Now he resided in San Francisco.

“What is your occupation? “The lighthouse keeper’s daughter Jayne asked the stranger,  fully well expecting him to say he was involved in a rich family business, or lived off of the wealth of his forebears.

He looked at her with hazel eyes, that she would have sworn were dark brown earlier that evening. “I am in law enforcement of a sorts, like detective, or a marshal. I seek out those who are particularly evil. I had apprehended a ruthless and violent fiend in South America and was on my way home. Unfortunately on the ship…” he paused and glanced up for a second, then back at the family of the lighthouse keeper. “On the ship I found myself taken by surprise and overwhelmed. It is a story I will tell you later, but now I must sleep, or I’ll end up under the table here.”

So he retired for the night. That was two days ago. He still slept as quiet and cold as death, but not dead. The dog lay by the foot of the bed thumping her tail whenever anyone came near.

A storm raged outside. The weather didn’t allow anyone to go get a doctor. His wife assured him that the man called Max just needed to rest. It made sense considering the man had been clinging to a piano lid and floating in the freezing ocean for days before he was picked up.

Despite the storm Lighthouse Keeper’s wife climbed up a ladder to fix a shutter that was almost ready to fly away with the wind. As she reached the window the ladder fell and she crashed to the ground below. All went black except the feeling of being carried inside.

Max put her down in a large chair by the fire and took her broken arm in his icy hands. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. She could feel his hands heat up and warm her wrist. The pain turned to numbness. She opened her eyes and could see a look of pain on his face, then he smiled and kissed her forehead.

“You’re arm is still broken, but the bones have started to mend enough for you not to need a splint.”

“You? You healed me,” she said.

“Yes. It is a gift. Keep the knowledge to yourself or people will think we are both insane.” He then touched a forming bruise on her forehead, making that pain, along with the bruise go away as well.

During the night the storm broke up. Sunshine came out between the clouds. Jayne convinced Max to walk down to the docks to pick up some fish for the night’s dinner.

She held his arm as they strolled along the road.

“Your glasses are so dark. I noticed your eyes turned from hazel to brown when we went outside,” said Jayne.

“My eyes are sensitive to the sun. I have three younger brothers, and a younger sister. Two of them have eyes that do the same as mine, that is change color,” he said, then changed the subject. “Do you like living here Jayne.”

“I love my family. I love the ocean. I don’t being in a small town with nothing but fish and lumber. I’d like to see more of the world before I’m expected to find a husband.”

“Do you want to be married Jayne?”

“Maybe,” said Jayne, “I can move to Utah and take two husbands. Women can vote in Utah and Wyoming. Why not here?”

“Because men are ignorant and barbaric my dear Jayne. They’re afraid that if you vote you’ll be smarter and more just than they are. The don’t want to give up their power to someone who might do a better job. By the way, men of a certain faith may have more than one wife but I do not believe a woman is allowed two husbands in Utah. You would have to go to Tibet for that.”

Jayne laughed. “To be truthful, even one husband would be too many for me right now. I don’t need anyone to own me right now.” She tugged on his arm. “You’re so different.”

“How am I different? I’m just like any other man.”

“You healed my mother’s arm. You survived almost a week in the icy ocean’s water hanging onto a piano top with nothing but the clothes on your back and a dog. Your eyes change color. Your skin feels like ice. You are unbelievably attractive. I am stating a fact about your looks. But I only want your friendship. Even with the oddness I like you. I feel as if we have been friends for a long long time. Where are you really from Maxwell? Who are your people?”

He smiled and took off his glasses. His eyes were hazel again. “Where I come from men and women are equal. We live quietly. We live honestly among each other. What I am about to tell you will sound strange, but we live on the edge between life and death. We walk in the world of sunlight, but also walk in the land of the shadows and do not fear death or God.”

“I would like to go there with you. I would earn my way. I could be a lady detective.”

“It is not easy to live in my world Jayne.”

“No world is easy Max,” she said then smiled and pulled the comb out of her hair letting it blow in the wind. “Do you have a sweetheart at home?”

Max hesitated then spoke. “There is a woman I have a strong connection with, but I will never love her.”

“Is she married?”

“No. It isn’t like that. We met when I was at the University. So was she, which is odd unto itself. She knows my thoughts. She knows my desires. But she is not the one. What about you Jayne?”

“I was engaged to a man who knew neither my thoughts or desires, and had no intention on learning either. He thought I belonged to him body and soul, not in the way of love, but as property to be owned and controlled. He was jealous to the point of rage if I would speak with another man. He was even jealous of the boys I teach at the school and demanded I quit my teaching job. I would rather die than live a life where someone else controlled my body, my thoughts, my job, and my every whim. That is why I am no longer engaged to him.” Then laughed and ran to the end of the pier and let the wind blow through her hair and laughed some more.

Max marveled at the way she was so free thinking and full of life. He saw so much death and sorrow in his line of work that now with Jayne he felt renewed. She was sunshine in his dark world of shadows and night.

Hours later in the quiet of the night, the wind died own, and the moon hung in a thin crescent in the sky. Max walked along the beach with his dog Delilah. The taste of fresh blood and wine was in his mouth and the cold comfort of the night had settled into his soul. Delilah ran ahead, then the dog started to bark. Ahead of him Max saw a bloody figure crumpled on the rocks. His heart sank. It was Jayne.

Max picked her up and carried her home. He knew what had happened. She’d gone out to look at the stars and was attacked by a man she’d jilted. She’d spoken briefly about it when they’d walked earlier in the day. She had turned away the advances of a hot headed man who wanted her as his own. In the afternoon the man had walked past them, giving Jayne a look like a mad dog when he saw her holding Max’s arm.

He put her on her bed as her parents and brothers gathered around. As still as death, and as cold as the sea, they watched life drained out of her.

Jayne’s mother put her hand on Max’s arm. “Can you heal her, like you healed me?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “If I do she will never be the same, not like she was before. She won’t be crippled or lose herself, she will be… she will be like me.”

“Save her, then find the man who did this to her,” said the Lighthouse Keeper.

“You do not know what you ask,” said Max.

“You put a spark back in her eyes I have not seen in ages. Please save her if you can.”

“Let me be alone with her and she will not die.”

In the morning a man’s body washed up on the beach. It looked as if dogs had torn out his throat. His face was a mask of fear.

Two weeks later Jayne kissed her family good-by and went with Max on the next ship to San Francisco.

2017

Max stood in his living room with a glass of wine in his hand as he looked at the view of the Pacific Ocean and the Golden Gate Bridge. He couldn’t imagine getting tired of it. He glanced over to see Jayne, wearing a short black dress and looking gorgeous as always, coming towards him. He kissed her cool cheek. She smiled with just a touch of fang showing.

“Are you staying with Pierce tonight?” Max asked.

“Of course I am. I take it Mehitabel is staying here,” said Jayne.

Max glanced at a small pretty woman across the room. He suddenly thought of what he’d told Jayne about her so many years ago on the walk to the docks. Odd that when he was out in the ocean, clinging onto a piano top of all things, he had thought of Mehitabel. He might ask but he was never sure what she would say. No, he wouldn’t ask, he’d just wait to see what would happen, but he was sure she’d stay.

“I’m sure she’ll stay,” he told Jayne.

They talked for a while longer, about work, about friends, and about how the sunset sparkled on the ocean. Max wasn’t always one for words, but he knew that Jayne knew that they’d always be friends. Maybe even before they had ever met.

Then Jayne laughed. “I still can’t believe you were clinging to a piano lid.”

And Max had to laugh along.

~ End

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday: Dead or Alive – A Vampire Romance

I’ve started some new short stories, but life gets in the way so I’m offering up a romance you may have seen before, as the storm blows in on this Sunday afternoon.

Dead or Alive
A Vampire Romance

By Juliette Kings

“What a bunch of idiots,” Jamie said to himself as he watched a mob of men run down the road brandishing knives and guns they didn’t even know how to use. They wouldn’t dare use them. Well, maybe they would – that is why Jamie had to hide. Now he was all dressed up with no place to go.

Now what? Maybe a trip to his favorite opium den for an easy meal or a trip to Madam Rosanna’s for a drink with one of her girls. At least the girls were clean and pretty, but the rush of opium infused blood sounded good right now.

Jamie ended up back home to change his bloody shirt. He knew his housekeeper would be able to get the stains out but it still annoyed him.

As he grabbed a new shirt out of the wardrobe the smell of jasmine and roses gently made him smile. He turned around.

“Belinda. What a delight.” She was indeed a delight but he didn’t expect to see her, not here in his house, much less in his bedroom.

The delicious sight in a silk green dress smiled and sat on his bed. “Your housekeeper let me in. I don’t think she approves but then again…” she didn’t finish her sentence but just laughed.

James brushed his lips across hers then slid his fangs across the side of her neck. “She doesn’t approve of you because she doesn’t know you.” His mouth went to Belinda’s again.

“You taste like blood,” she whispered.

“You taste like death darling Belinda.” Jamie took her hand and pulled her up. “I’m getting dressed. Let’s go out.”

They passed into the darkness outside, arm in arm, laughing quietly at their private jokes.

Maybe they’d go to the whore house or the opium den. Maybe they’d go to a musical revue or drop by and see friends. Anything was possible. Together, Jamie and Belinda always had a way of making everything fun – at least fun for them.

They decided on the theater but stopped in front of one of the larger churches in the center of the city. A bride and groom happily rode in their carriage to start a new life together. The bride was dressed in innocent white. The groom was happy and handsome.

Jamie and Belinda stood, arm in arm, and looked upon the happy couple.

“That could have been us,” said Belinda.

“We don’t deserve that kind of happiness,” said Jamie, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Why not? We could get married. We could be happy Jamie.”

“Oh darling, you’d drive me crazy. I’d have to kill you.”

“I’m already dead. Well, sort of dead.”

And under the gaslights by the church Jamie kissed Belinda. “Dead or alive, I love you Belinda. I always have. I always will.”

A cold tear ran down Belinda’s cheek. Jamie led her into the empty church and up to the alter. “Belinda, will you love me and stay with me always?”

“Jamie, will you love me and stay with me always?”

“I suppose. Aren’t we supposed to talk about till death do us part?”

“I didn’t think about that,” said Jamie.

“You wouldn’t now James would you?” She called him by his proper name, the way she thought a wife would.

They left the church and headed back to Jamie’s place. Over a glass of wine they made uncomfortable small talk.

“Will you stay the night Belinda?” He had to ask.

“If you’ll have me. Oh Jamie, we’re so awful. We really are. There has to be more.”

He thought about it for about a second. “Not really. We are what we are. We are who we are.”

Then he took her hand and led her back up to his room.

In the morning the world came alive, but they continued their sleep, wrapped in each other’s cold dead arms, as alive as they knew how to be.

~ end

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

The Art of Writing Love Letters is Alive and Well (even for Zombies & Ghosts)

My brother Val always says “love isn’t a physical thing. It is a meeting of souls. Be it friendship or romantic lovers, it is something we can write about and dream about, but we can never truly explain or define it.”

The Art of Writing Love Letters is Alive and Well (even for Zombies & Ghosts)

The most popular post on this blog is “How to respond to a love letter.”  Really. Out of the zillion or so things I’ve written on just about every subject everything always circles around back to LOVE.

That is proof that the art of letter writing is not completely dead (YES – real scientific proof) AND romance is still alive and well.

Everyone writes love letters. And that means YOU. Below are some examples to inspire you and get you going.

 

For Modern Royalty

Let me undress you my love and rid you of your fashionable dress. Let me unroll your stockings one by one. Let me slip off your panties and bra so carefully. And when you’re all mine naked and beautiful, let me cover you with frumpy pastel colored grandma clothing and ugly hats forever.

kiss snow white

 

For Werewolves

Let me run my hands along your bare skin and feel the fur grow under my fingers.  Run in the woods with me my love and let me hear your howl in the moonlight. Be the father of my cubs and the alpha of my pack.  Your large paws and dark eyes excite me.  I sniff you and your scent intoxicates me.  Both the man and beast in you make me love you even more.

blue eyed adam

For Zombies

Know that I love you for more than just your brains. When I first saw you staggering across the street, the wild look in your one remaining eye, the slight smile, the slow groan, the matted hair and I knew you were the girl for me.

I will be with you even when we fall apart and our body parts trail behind us…and there is nothing left except our love.

zombiesinlove

For Vampires

In the shadows you bring dark light and the slow beating of your heart. I live for your cool touch, your lips on my neck, fangs lightly teasing me. You’re my heart and soul. You are my shadow. You are my love. You are the one I will spend centuries with sharing wine and blood and passion.

k_1

For Regular Humans

You’re cute. I like being with you. I love you.  xoxoxoxox.  I can’t get enough of you. Light my fire or even my BBQ Grill – I’m easy. Love you sweetie pie!

S030946

For Ghosts

In life love was just a dream like mist or a phantom.

Now it is real even though nothing else is.

Through the centuries we drifted,

Only to meet at night, haunting the truth and reality of life,

To find love in death and tragedy,

And hope that will never make sense,

But it is ours and ours alone.

You haunt me to my very soul,

The spirit of our love lives anew.

dancing in the dark

So get out your pen, your pad, your smart phone, your crayon or pencil and write a letter to the one you love.

xoxoxoxox

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman