Short Story Sunday: Brothers in Arms

And I thought my life was weird, thought Austin after reading a news story about a historian in Russia who was pulled out of a river along with a rucksack full of severed arms. The arms belonged to a former student.

Austin never had any students he disliked that much.

After kissing his girlfriend, who was still asleep, and would be sleeping all day, he wandered down to the local coffee shop. Inside at the back table his friend Aaron was reading and drinking his usual triple expresso.

Aaron glanced up. “Hey. I just ordered you something.”

Janet behind the counter called, “Austin, coconut latte, extra shot.”

Austin picked up his coffee and Janet smiled at him in a come hither way that almost made Austin’s face turn red.

Back at the table Aaron put down his book. “How are you Austin?”

“Good. I’m half way through the semester and haven’t lost any students yet. No failures. The graduate students are exceptionally delightful. Elizabeth is sleeping in my bed as we speak.”

“You’re back with Elizabeth?” Aaron looked surprised. “You know, you aren’t getting any younger.”

Austin looked at his friend. He used to look younger than Aaron and now he looked slightly older. Aaron was one of those guys who never aged, not surprising considering he was a 165 year old Vampire.

Aaron continued. “You turn forty in a few months. If you want to have a family you’d better find a nice woman in her thirties with a ticking biological time clock and settle down. Otherwise you’d might as well become one of us.”

“I hunt Vampires,” said Austin.

“Only the nasty ones we need to get rid of. You know, you could just quite that business and teach history full time.”

“Who would do your dirty work for you? Have you thought about that?”

Aaron shrugged. “You have a point there. Hey, did you hear about that guy in Russia they found in the river with a bag full of arms. I thought about you.”

Austin laughed out loud. Then he thought about the touch of Elizabeth’s cool mouth of his skin, and the fact that she’d read Jane Austin as a child, when the books were new. He thought about all the times he and Aaron had hunted down soulless rogue Vampires. He thought about the cold river and what kinds of things drive men mad. And after that split second of a million thoughts he said, “Great minds think alike.”

Aaron lifted his cup, “Here’s to us, brothers in arms.”

“Brothers in arms,” said Austin, as he reminded himself how normal his life actually was.

~ end

 

Tangled Tales

This has been another Austin and Elizabeth story. For more adventures click here. 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

2019 Nano Pablano Cheer Peppers. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: Leaving Victor

A new Tangled Tale for October 13, 2019 from Juliette aka Vampire Maman.

Leaving Victor

The Creature watched as the figure in the large overcoat and hat came through the door. The man walked with a slight limp. He smiled at The Creature as he took off his coat and hung it on a peg.

“Igor, you back. Doctor left,” said The Creature.

“Gone for three days. That gives us plenty of time,” said the man with the limp as he took off his hat and shook out his hair.

“Nice do,” said The Creature. “Igor look good.”

“I needed something different.”

“You look like hipster. Short sides. Longer top. Igor look stylish.”

“It isn’t Igor anymore. It never was Igor,” said the man.

“No Igor?”

“Victor called me Igor. It was a derogatory term due to my handicap.” Then he reached around and pulled a pillow out of the back of his shirt. “I won’t be needing this anymore.”

“You straight,” said The Creature.

“Physical therapy. Now I just have to use a cane when I’m on uneven surfaces. But listen, my name is, my real name, is Isidore Rassioli. Some of my friends call me Izzy.”

“Izzydore. I like.”

“You need a name too. That damn Victor didn’t even give you a name. What do you want to be called?”

“Don’t know. Never think I could have name.”

“Well I have.” Isidore pulled out an envelope and set it in front of The Creature. “You are now Corbin Jones. Look here. You now have a birth certificate, and a passport.”

“Corbin. Middle?”

“Andrew,”

“Sound good. I like. Why all this?”

“Because, my dear Corbin, it is time for us to leave. Our servitude is over. For years I toiled under Dr. Victor Frankenstein as his assistant. I did all of the research. I formulated the numbers. I came up with the key ideas, theories, and every thesis. I even wrote his lecture notes. The only reason he has tenure at the university is because of me. All the while he called me Igor and took advantage of my lack of confidence. Well no more. I am not ugly. I am not stupid. I am not a cripple.”

“Looking good Isidore. You smart. I always say that.”

“And so are you Corbin. So are you.

“Passport say American. Why?”

“Because dear Corbin you are a man of an astoundingly diverse heritage. Your body is Italian, built like Michelangelo’s David. Unfortunately the first owner was crushed in an automobile accident. Fortunately we were able to find a perfect fit for a new right arm and shoulder from a murdered Ethiopian gun smuggler. Your left brain is Irish Catholic and your right brain is Ashkenazi Jew. Your head is generic Caucasian, from an American who lost it to an unfortunate run in with a machete. You look like of like Chris Evans, you know, Captain America, sort of but I think better looking. Your ears don’t match, but nobody looks at ears unless they’re unusually large, and yours aren’t.”

“What about her?” Corbin asked, looking over at a closed door.

“The woman? Her body is from a woman who was of English, Welsh, and German decent. She was involved in an unfortunate industrial accident that took off the top of her head. Her scalp and brain are Korean. I’m not sure where those came from. Her heart is First Nation Canadian. Jesus Christ, I can’t make this stuff up. The two of you are true citizens of the world.”

From behind the closed door came a woman. She was striking with one brown eye and one hazel eye. Her long black hair was pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her hair. She wore jeans and an oversized sweater the color of the evening sky.

“Izzy. Did you get my papers?” Asked the woman.

“I did. Here you go Rochelle.”

“Oh my goodness it is good to hear my name. Rochelle. Wow.”

She opened her envelope and looked down upon the birth certificate. Rochelle Patti Smith. She’d picked out the name herself. Her own name. Not Eve or Lilith as Victor wanted to call her, but Rochelle. Patti Smith was after her favorite musician. Rochelle was just because she’s always liked the name somewhere in her distant past that she couldn’t quite remember.

“I have my bag packed,” said Rochelle.

“Good,” said Isidore.

“Where we go?” Corbin asked.

“Orange County, California, the United States of America. I got a job teaching at the Biology Department at UC Irvine.”

“UC?” Corbin asked.

“University of California,” said Isidore. “I have my PhD. This is a great opportunity. Plus we’re not going to be alone. My brothers Sal and Perry own a body shop in Long Beach.”

“They make people too?” Rochelle asked.

“No, cars. They repair cars. Automobiles.”

Six Years Later

Corbin, Rochelle, and Isidore lived in a house walking distance from the beach. It was a good life.

Corbin obtained his GED, took two years at the Community College and got into California State University Long Beach majoring in Political Science. With the help of a speech therapist he now spoke without a trace of hesitation. His girlfriend owned a surf shop and had taught him how to swim.

Rochelle was now in Law School at UC Irvine. She dated a movie producer.

Isidore was a popular teacher. Often he’d walk the beach with his dogs Ramble and Corky, and ponder the meaning of life. Not so much his life, but life in general.

He’d never even thought of making any more conglomerates of reanimated body parts and calling them human beings. Corbin and Rochelle were enough. They were miracles who’d been rescued from spending their new lives shut up in a laboratory to be poked and prodded. Now they were free. Maybe they even had souls. God knows they lived their lives like they did.

Victor had approached Rochelle a few years back, like an abusive stalker waiting to bring his woman back where she belonged. She told him that she’d call the police if he ever approached her again.

Victor had told her, “You ungrateful sewed together bitch. I made you. You belong to me.”

Rochelle said, “No Victor, I made me. I made the women I am today.”

A small note on the online news sites stated that the body of famous biologist Dr. Victor Frankenstein had been washed up on a beach just south of Santa Barbara. Corbin, Rochelle, and Isidore never talked about it. They didn’t need to.

The thought of Rochelle standing up for herself made Isidore smile. He wanted that for all of his students. It had taken years for him to stand up for himself.

As he watched the sunset over the Pacific Ocean a peace settled over Isidore.

“Come on boys,” he called to his dogs. Then he stood up straight and planted his cane in the sand. “I’m done with crutches my dear dogs. Let’s go home.”

~ end

Tangled Tales

 

 

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: Small Talk

Tangled Tales

Small Talk

The woman with the Mamie Eisenhower bangs and Cleopatra eye liner took a sip of sparkling wine and said, “I think they should all go to jail. Every single one of them.”

Max glanced over and smiled. Her high child-like voice made his head hurt. He knew she’d cultivated that sound for years. What the fuck was wrong with some people? She smiled back at him and winked.

Walking though the room he picked up bits and pieces of conversations. Always the charmer, he’d smile and blink his eyes one time in a way that would seduce the dead. Well, the living too. He smiled at his own joke.

Just two hours before he’d been with Mehitabel, his hands in her hair, his mouth on hers, her legs around…

“Max?”

He turned at the sound of his name.

“Max, so glad you could make it. You seemed deep in thought. Hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“You’d never disturb me Marc.” Max gave his old friend a one armed bro-hug.

“So when is the wedding?”

“I’m not sure. We’re still working on it.”

“Don’t take too my man long or she’ll run.”

It had been almost two years since Max asked Mehitabel to marry him. Then again why hurry? He’d been involved with her on and off for the past one hundred and forty nine years, since she was twenty and he was twenty one. A few more years wouldn’t make a difference.

Max spoke with Marc a bit more and moved on towards the bar. He glanced over to where Tim Peoples stood surrounded by an audience.

“Oh my god, Max,” said a woman, breaking herself away from Tim’s group. “How are you?” She kissed him on the cheek. He gave her a hug and a dazzling Max smile.

“Great. How are you Lydia?” He hoped it was Lydia. It could have been Linda.

“Good. How about this house? Fantastic isn’t it.”

“Beautiful,” said Max. “I need to find out who their interior designer is.” He couldn’t believe those words just came out of his mouth.

“If I find out I’ll let you know,” said Lydia, then she squeezed his arm and moved on.

“Max,” Tim called out. “Come over here.”

Max cringed inside but smiled. “Hey, Tim. Good to see you.”

Tim leaned inclose to Max, “Check out the ass on that one,” he said as he pointed out a woman in a tight green dress. “That is my goal for tonight. Hey, did you hear about my new car?” Tim showed a picture on his smart phone to Max.  “Eighty Thousand dollars worth of pure testosterone. What are you driving these days? Still wasting your time in that truck?”

Max’s friend Jayne took his arm. “Sorry Tim, I have to borrow Max for a bit.” She led Max away from the group. “Women used to find Tim attractive but not much anymore.”

“Being a douche takes the finish right off of those rose colored goggles,” said Max.

“Indeed it does. Where’s my girl tonight?”

“Mehitable? Um, she’ll might be here in a bit. She said she had a few things to take care of first.”

“She hates these things.”

“So do I.”

“Why’d you come then?”

“Had to. It was expected. If I didn’t show it would be noticed.”

Jayne shrugged. So far she was the only other Vampire there. Later there might be more. Max hoped there would be more. He hated events where he couldn’t be himself. Being charming was never a problem, it just wasn’t always enjoyable.

At the bar Max got a Martini that was all gin and an olive. Jayne ordered a Bloody Mary with an extra shot of vodka.

The two old friends scanned the room.

“So what do you think?” Max asked. “You hungry?”

“What? Dinner?”

“Sure. Dinner. I don’t think Mehitabel is going to show. We have to eat somewhere.”

“Let’s go somewhere else,” said Jayne. “The menu here is kind of boring.”

“Indeed it is,” said Max, downing his drink. “Let’s go.”

Jayne smiled and took his arm, as they went out into the night and away from a night of endless small talk.

~ end

 

 

 

Desert Winds

On the edge of the Sandia Mountains, My friends Amelia her husband Raul and I drove down the gravel road to the home of Ximena, an ancient woman who mostly lived in solitude with the company of the birds and the wind.

Ximena’s home was a large old adobe structure rimmed with bells and bushes of purple flowers. She greeted us at the door, as always wearing a long colorful skirt. Her black hair flowed down her back almost to her knees. Dark eyes smiled at us in a welcome greeting, as did her fangs. She is almost as ancient as Tellias and Eleora, and like them Ximena looks like a young college girl.

We came into the main room. Walls lined with books and crystals flanked part of the room with windows on the other side looking towards the mountains. We could smell the dried chiles rastas hanging in the kitchen. A red shouldered hawk perched on a wooden chair. It called out when it saw us.

“Maria, you still sing so sweetly,” I said to the bird. She gave me a cold stair then allowed me to pet her feathered head.

Maria the hawk had been around since I was a young woman, more than a hundred years. I wondered at times how she could live so long, then I stopped wondering and chalked it up to magic, love or pure mystery. It is what it is. That is how things work here in the land of magic.

A youngish man with dark hair and eyes like Ximena, but pale skin, came into the room. He was introduced to us as Kyle. But he wasn’t like us. I could feel his warmth as soon as he walked into the room.

Kyle was a man of many talents. He was a photographer, a teacher, a writer, an engineer and apparently a lover. After talking over wine and a light diner we also discovered Ximena’s young friend was also extremely opened minded.

He was also a young widow. One night left him alone with his dreams dead, but he kept going and kept at least a portion of the dreams and spark alive.

While Raul, Amelia and Ximena went to a back room to examine some old maps or something, Kyle and I went out to the porch. Bats flew about as the sounds of the bells filled the air.

Kyle asks me about my husband Teddy. I smiled shyly and told him how we’d met as kids and fallen in love a hundred years later. I think I’d always been in love with my husband on some level.

Then Kyle spoke of his lost love. “After Kayla, my wife, passed away everyone kept asking me if I’d go back. Over and over they’d ask the old what if question. You know, you can’t go back. I can’t bring her back. I will never forget her. She is part of me, but I live in the world of the living.”

“No ghost?” I had to ask (always thinking of obnoxious Nigel)

“Only a Vampire in the Southwest would ask that,” Kyle answered with a knowing smile.

“A Vampire anywhere would ask that. Don’t get me started on the ghosts I see all the time.”

“No ghost. Kayla moved on the night she died. That is a good thing.”

“Yes it is. You’re a wise man with a loving heart. In some circles that is a rare thing.”

He leaned against the rail. “I don’t know you except by reputation but I want to ask you a few thing, or at least see how you feel about a few things.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I’m in love with Ximena. I know what she is. I know how old she is. It doesn’t matter.”

I shrugged and laughed. “My 500 or so year old Grandmama is in love with a 35 year old. What are you, about 38?”

He smiled. I was correct. He was 38 and absolutely a delight – young, yet years ahead of most men his age.

“Dear Kyle, you also want me to tell you if I think it would be wise if you became a Vampire? Right?”

He smiled an uncomfortable hot blooded smile.

I said to him, “Kyle, you are in love with the cold wind under the moon and the sprint of night. She is an amazing being. I’ve always admired her. If you feel you can make a life out here with her then do it. But don’t lose yourself in her. Always be who you are, even after you become a Vampire. That is the only way it will work. If you try to be too much like her she will leave you, because she fell in love with you, not with herself.”

Raul and Ximena came out to join us with wine for Ryan and spiced blood for the rest of us.

Ximena whistled and Maria the red shouldered hawk came and landed on a table next to her hand. Ximena gave the bird a piece of meat she took from a bag in her pocket.

Into the night we talked until the sun came up and created unbelievably beautiful light and shadows on the mountains.

I could hear the wind whispering to the lovers:

The light

in dark eyes

promises kept

forever and

again

in our hearts

we love

we laugh

and we learn

to do it 

all

over 

again.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Almost Short Story Sunday: Webs

Yesterday I started a short story but ended up, obviously, not sharing anything. Not even an old story. This is what I came up with. This is part of the Austin and Elizabeth series. I’ve listed all of the stories from the start at the bottom of the post with links to said stories. On a good note the green waste can is completely filled, my nose is completely filled with bark dust, and I cleaned out the inside of my old calico cat’s ears (not a task for the faint of heart.) Anyway, this is what I’ve got. Enjoy … and watch out for spiders.

Webs

Elizabeth reached into the pantry door for the box of Zen Tea bags and realized it was anything but zen in her pantry. Her hand hit something that resisted, as if someone had tied dental floss across the shelf. It wasn’t dental floss. It was black widow silk.

A few hours, and six black widows later, she’d completely cleaned, reorganized, and cleaned out her pantry closet.

She looked at her cat who waited for a treat. “You’d think that a Vampire like me wouldn’t have a full pantry, but you love your kitty treats.”

Elizabeth also loved her booze, and the few snacks that wouldn’t make her sick. Plus there were all of the things her boyfriend, and occasional overnight friends liked.

She thought about her childhood when a child in her town died of a black widow bite. The same week a man died of a mysterious illness. Elizabeth thought of the man’s wife. She was his black widow.

Through a window Elizabeth saw the woman put something into a tea cup and make the man drink it. Strange herbs and ground up bugs steeped in hot sweet strong tea killed the husband within a week.

The woman then married her lover, who then took all of her money and ran away with an artist who told him she wished to go to Rome. So they left for Rome, but their ship wrecked and they both died.

The captain of the ship survived. He brought home the bodies of the dead husband and his lover. The widow lured him into her lair. Within six months they were married. Within a year he would have been dead but he went to sea. His death wouldn’t come for another five years.

By then Elizabeth had grown up, become a Vampire, and moved on. She’d have to go on one of those genealogy sites to see what happened to the woman.

What a tangled web we weave thought Elizabeth.

~ end, for now…

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Tangled Tales

What happens when a History Professor/Restoration Expert/Player turns into a Vampire Hunter? He discovers basements full of undead creatures, a thriving community of hip and trendy Modern Vampires and the maybe love of his life (or maybe the cause of his death.)

For the complete story of Austin and Elizabeth (from the beginning) check the links below. Most are stand-alone stories but they are also sequential.

Part 1: The Hunter

Part 2:  Memory of Distant Love

Part 3: Dark Dreams of the Hunted

Part 4: About Those Pesky Undead Folks

Park 5: The Hunt Continues

Part 6: Cold and Warm

Part 7: Date with a Vampire

Part 8: Crawl Space

Part 9: Dust and Desire

Part 10: One of Those Days…

Part 11: Even Vampire Hunters Get the Blues

Part 12: Back to the Past

Part 13: Nowhere in Time

Part 14: Father Paul

Part 15: The Bat

Part 16: Saturday Afternoon

Part 17: Cold

Part 18: Being Real

Part 19: Motorhome

Part 20: Under the Stars

Part 21: Warmth

Part 22: Conversion

Part #23: Lizbit

Part 24: Gerald Atkins: Vampire Hunter

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: I’ve Got Your Number (An Intergalactic Romance)

Tangled Tales

 

I’ve Got Your Number (An Intergalactic Romance)

She’d found him on Planet 5309. His call out number was 867. She liked that. Not too many people knew about 20th Century music outside of the big classics like The Beatles, Queen, Pink Floyd, and The Cars.

In the 23rd Century they had their own music, which was OK but she liked the old stuff.

When you run a luxury transport service there is a lot of free time, even when you are on super-hyper-speed mode. There is a lot of free time to go onto chat lines and dark space groups to find other lonely hearts, or at least someone who is interesting.

His name was Tommy. Her name was Jenny. It was meant to be. Old fashioned names with a twist of fate that brought them together with an old song they both loved.

He’d found her number on one of the lines and called her up. That was half an Earth year ago and light years away. They’d talked non-stop almost the entire time.

After landing on the new landing pad, she exited the plane with her eyes wide open. She’d pulled her brown hair up on her head in a mass of curls set with crystal flowers. With gold tipped lashes to match her gold jumpsuit she knew she would turn heads – in a good way. Good looks and a killer figure never hurt in any luxury transport business. It wasn’t always right, but it was the truth.

She saw him, a history professor on a far away planet, standing by the reception structure. Wavy blonde hair framed a handsome face of copper hued skin. Damn, it was good to see another human again, especially a human male.

He smiled and held out his hands, and said, “I need to make you mine.”

And in a galaxy far far away, two history buffs lived happily ever after.

 

~ end

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman