Short Story Sunday: None of his concern

Senator Wallace “Wally” Baskin stood on the podium as his fans watched on. They knew he would cut funding to arts, which after all were only for high brow perverts and didn’t do anything for the economy. He had cut funds for National Parks which everyone knew were just glorified playgrounds used by retired folks and boy scouts. Bears and rock formations were not his concern. If he didn’t see it or like it then it wasn’t his concern.

He’d never seen a bear in the wild, an underaged prostitute, a Indian burial ground, the inside of an art museum, or a whale, so they were not his concerns. He had never personally known a soldier with PSTD, or one with missing limbs so that was none of his concern. Wally Baskin had never known a child with cancer, or anyone with AIDS, or an opera singer, so they were none of his concern.

Empathy, curiosity, and compassion were for the weak. They were none of his concern.

The Senator looked out over the crowd, a mix of white, brown, and a few darker folks picked out by his staff, mixed in with people who’d just come to the State Fair to see the hogs, goats, and a popular local metal band called Fire Pods. Wally wondered about the Fire Pods. He wondered if they worshiped the Devil, or ate exotic cheeses with California wine, or had sex with women who happily showed off their large breasts and snake tattoos. He thought about them with those women, legs wrapped around the skinny lead singer with the handsome face and long blonde hair.

Wally never liked Metal music. Wally never liked any music. His kids listened to music, but he never asked them about it. They were grown now and had been poisoned against him by his first wife. He didn’t see them but he still thought about it and it made him angry.

He’d told his son that majoring in English was a waste of time. He told his daughter that she’d never find a husband if she majored in Chemistry. When his ex-wife got remarried he’d called her a whore for not being faithful to the father of his children. It didn’t matter that he’d married a woman only ten years older than his son.

His new wife, a beauty named Desiree, was always by his side in her high heels and monochromatic suits. He didn’t see her much in his off time, but she was always there with a million watt smile, not a line on her face, and not an extra pound on her body. He wasn’t allowed to often touch that body, but he didn’t think she let anyone else touch it either. Today she stood by his side smiling and holding the hands of their extremely bored nine year old twin boys.

The boys had told their father they didn’t want to be there. Wally told him he’d whip their butts if they didn’t behave, so they behaved.

Maybe Wally should have whipped the butts of his older children more. That was one reason his wife left him and poisoned his unruly children against him. He thought of his daughter asking her stepfather to walk her down the isle when she got married. Wally was still trying to find dirt on the man. He refused to go to her wedding, but instead went to a church retreat with some of his political donors. He’d rather spend a weekend with God and other’s who appreciated him rather than his loser daughter.

Senator Wallace “Wally” Baskin stood on the podium and started to talk about family values, American values, God, and bringing back the goodness of yesterday. The crowd  gave a luke warm response by clapping politely and not walking away. As he walked to his limo, with his wife and whining boys behind him, he could hear the crowd roar with approval as Fire Pods started up their noise.

Wally would find the dirt on Fire Pods and have them ruined, especially the lead singer, the good looking blonde named Ryan Green. Fuck you Ryan Green thought Wally. Your career is OVER.

At home Wally said grace over the dinner table and told his wife that he was pleased with the outcome of the day. She smiled, but looked tired, even after changing into jeans and a tee shirt. He didn’t like it when she wore jeans, but he’d gotten tired of her bitching about it. He’d check her bank account in the morning and take out some money just to teach her a lesson. The twins ate chicken nuggets in another room while he and his wife had some sort of noodle dish. She called it pasta but it would always be noodles to him.

Life was good. Wally instructed his staff to post on all of his social media sites about his good life, his good wife, and his bright manly twin boys. He watched the news about floods, fires, quakes, tornadoes, murders, and all kinds of unpleasant things but that was none of his concern. If you don’t you’re house to shake don’t live in California is what he always said.

Later that night his wife was sitting on the back deck of their mansion sipping a glass of wine. She’d taken her make-up off. Wally told his wife she looked ugly without her make-up and he’d prefer to keep it on. She called him an asshole. He slapped her. She told him that she was unhappy. He said it was none of his concern and she’d better do her job as his wife and keep us her end of the deal.

The next morning Wally woke up to the sound of nothing. No breakfast cooking. No children with their annoying noise. No sound of their annoying dog. Not his wife singing some stupid songs he didn’t recognize.

On the kitchen table he’d found a note.

Wally,

Maria will be in tonight and make you dinner. She’ll organize the domestic staff from now on so you won’t have to see them. Remember Maria, our personal chef? She is the one you called a cow when she made stir-fry that night. If you call her names again she’ll leave you.

And speaking of leaving you… I have left you. I’ve gone off with Ryan Green. I’ve taken the twins, after all Ryan is their biological father. You were too stupid to guess that. Why do you think they look so much like him. 

If you wish to speak to me or send a message contact my lawyer. 

D.

Wally called his wife on the phone and left a long message. This would be the death of his political career. He called his ex-wife, he called his eldest son, he called his daughter. He even called his elderly mother.

None of them answered.

Two weeks later when his naked bloated body was found floating in his swimming pool the police asked his staff, his neighbors, and his family, why nobody had called to report him missing.

They all had the same reply.

It was none of my concern.

~ end

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mysterious Friendships

From 2013

When friends, or others, discover we are Vampires the reactions vary from shock to horror to fascination. But, that said, they rarely find out we’re Vampires.

I had to meet with my friend Adam, Werewolf and brilliant photographer. Until a year ago I didn’t know he was a Werewolf and he didn’t know I was a Vampire. We kept our secrets better than most, for sometimes we CAN tell when folks aren’t regular humans. When we found out each others secret it wasn’t pretty. We both were feeling a bit violent and betrayed and out of sorts.

He touched my neck where he’d tried to rip out my throat a year ago. A faint scar still lingered. “I’m surprised I didn’t kill you.”

I shrugged it off then stepped back out of his reach.

He continued to talk. “You must have taken fifty gallons of blood out of me over the past fifteen years. I still can’t believe I never caught on.”

I declined to comment and asked him if I could see his latest work, the items he was going to put in a major museum exhibit.

“Don’t you want to talk about it? Vampires always want to talk.”

He was so attractive in that overly masculine hairy man sort of way that took away the breath of women before they even knew what hit them. I just saw him as a dog, which was rather disturbing considering everything that had transpired between us in the past.

I had to ask him, “Do any regular humans know you’re a Werewolf?”

“Not to my knowledge or at least they don’t understand what they saw. If they repeat it people will think they’re crazy. I don’t TELL anyone. You know, I don’t need any dog catchers coming my way”. After the 1880’s his kind was almost made extinct out our way. He lived among the regular folks but he was wary as a wild animal, putting on the charm and living in the world of regular people.

He stepped closer to me, within arms length. “Friends?”

“Always,” I said.

When you’re part of the shadows and mystery surrounded by secrets and lies, a mystery wrapped in an enigma, a good friend, even if he is a Werewolf, is a true blessing.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

2019 – Adam and I are still friends – better than ever.

Charged Technology, and The Ancient Folks We Love

“Juliette, I am so glad to see you. Were you in the neighborhood?” Tellias took my face in his cool white hands and kissed my forehead.

“No,” I said. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for three days. Your phones go straight to voice mail. You never check your voice mail. You never check to see if your phones are charged. I was worried about you.”

Tellias said nothing about the phones, took my hand, and said, “Let’s go see Eleora. She’ll be glad to see you. She fell in a drainage ditch out in the pear orchard yesterday. I had to call John next door to come help me get her out.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Tellias gave me that annoyed look one gives children with annoying questions. “We got her out.”

He stood in front of me, his blue eyes looking brighter than usual, his white blonde hair hanging to his shoulders. Today he wore a Hawaiian shirt with big blue hibiscus flowers, and ancient worn out orange plaid Bermuda shorts, and his yellow flip flops.

Tellias and Eleora are old. They’re ancient old. Tellias is well over 2,000 and nobody really knows how old Eleora is. They looks as if they’re about twenty years old, but act like they’re in their nineties. For readers new here, I must explain that they’re Vampires. We all are. I’m the one who checks in on them, just as many of you check in on your elderly, or other family members with special needs and concerns.

Tellias and Eleora live on a farm along the Sacramento River, an hour drive from my home. I grew up running through their orchards, then new, and going to lavish parties at their home. The first house burned down, and was replaced with a lavish Queen Anne style Victorian mansion. But that is neither here nor there right now. They won’t plug charge their phones.

In fact when I saw Eleora, lounging on a couch, in a polka dotted white and navy sun dress, with a pink pilled up sweater over it, she looked at me with sad eyes. Did she mention her fall? No.

She asked me, “Why don’t your brothers or your parents ever call me?”

“Because your phone is never charged and you don’t check your messages, and you don’t even use email anymore,” I said, trying to keep from yelling. “What were you doing out in the pear orchard, by the drainage ditch?”

“I was checking to see if there were any bums out there. They used to camp out there during the depression and they’re still camping along the river. Homeless.”

“What if you had found someone? What if they’d hurt you?” I asked.

“I’m a Vampire Juliette. I would have eaten them and torn their heads off.” Then she and Tellias laughed and then he took her hand and they danced around the room.

“She would have eaten them,” said Tellias.

“Every one of them,” said Eleora.

“Every one of them,” said Tellias.

“And torn their heads off,” said Eleora.

“She found a rake I’d lost about thirty years ago,” said Tellias.

“I told you I’d find it,” said Eleora.

“Glad you did,” I said. I really was. Eleora had been asking about the rake for the past thirty years, non-stop.

“It was rusted out,” said Eleora.

“I figured as much,” I said.

“Rusted out,” said Eleora.

“Has anyone seen my truck keys?” Asked Tellias.

“They’re hanging on the hook in the hallway,” I said.

“Oh. I swore I’d lost them,” said Tellias.

“Swore he’d lost them,” said Eleora.

“Lost them,” said Tellias.

I turned to see both of my kids, and my son’s best friend Randy, standing in the doorway with boxes from the car.

Tellias and Eleora ran over to Clara, Garrett and, Randy covering their faces with kisses and hugging them.

“She found the rake,” I said.

“Oh good,” said Garrett, trying not to laugh.

We fixed iced tea, and cold blood over ice garnished with mint and sage leaves. Eleora showed off her quickly healing bruises and scratches.

Their neighbor John, a handsome man in his 60’s stopped by to say hello and fill in the blanks to the ditch story.

“You should have called me,” I told John.

Of course John said he’d call me next time. There have been dozens of next times he has promised to call me about but never followed through on.

Randy, who as usual, was wearing a vintage shirt from the 70’s with a panoramic scene across the front and back. He and Tellias talked fashion, or whatever it is they think they’re wearing. The more heinous the better is the rule with them. Randy is only twenty three so dressing like a mismatched old man looks cool on him. Sometimes I half expect to see him in sandals and dress socks, or worse red socks and sandals.

Almost twenty year old Clara sat with Eleora and held her hand as they talked about Clara’s transfer to the big university in Southern California that will happen in September.

Garrett and John helped me unpack bottles of Poet’s blood, cans of cat food (for the cat, not for the elders) and various other things I brought over. Tellias, who does most of the shopping often forgets to get things like cat food, and soap, and basic things we all need. When the elders want food they’ve taken to calling deliver services for food (Fill in the blanks. Nice warm blooded folks come to the door…) I have already told them not to call 911 to deliver handsome young sheriff officers for dinner.

I have to tell the elders not to do a lot of things. They never listen to me. Heads are nodded. I love you is said over and over. They smile with a coy hint of fang.

Eleora told Clara and me three more times that my brothers and parents never call her.

Before we left I checked the phone cords and made sure the chargers were put in outlets that hadn’t been switched off. I made sure everything was plugged in all the way and charging.

I reminded Tellias where his truck keys were, and where the other car keys were. I also reminded him to write down a list when he went out, and to even write down where he was going so he wouldn’t forget and drive half way to Timbuktu before he realized he was going to the hardware store for nails or a sprinkler part.

As we drove away, the three young adults and I, we waved to the elders, John, and the cat who all stood on the grand front porch of the beautiful Victorian home.

I was glad everyone was more or less alright, but couldn’t help but feel a little sad, and a little depressed. I always feel a little sad and a little depressed when I leave them. I feel the same way when I leave my house to go there. I feel that way whenever I think about them.

I can’t help it. I guess that is what happens when you love someone so much.

In a day or two I’ll call back. I know the phones won’t be charged. I’ll text John who will tell me he’ll check on it for me, but I know he’ll go over there and they’ll tell him their phones are charged. John will believe them and go home.

One more thought before I go. Summer is here. If you know someone who is elderly or needs extra help, make sure they have their air conditioning on when days reach triple digits. Make sure they’re ok, even if you have to drive that extra five or ten, or twenty miles when they don’t answer their phones. Tell them that you love them. Hold their hands and listen to them repeat the same stories over and over.

Be there.

Because they might be gone one day, even if they’re Vampires.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

2019 Summer Reading: Chilling and Thrilling

Monday is here so that means time to start a new book, or at least time to start thinking about what you’re going to read next.

Right now I’m in the middle of reading not one, but TWO, books – a novel and a horror anthology.

Tales to Chill Your Bones to

by Michael Haberfelner

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Michael Haberfelner is a master story teller. Yes, I’m a fan. I’ll make this quick. I love his style. It is different. He writes like a true story teller. I can just hear him saying, “gather round little children and I’ll tell you a story,” as yellow and red glowing eyes twinkle in the woods behind you.

I don’t want to say his style is old fashioned because it really isn’t, but it is comforting, while at the same time embracing the reader in unexpected, entertaining, and scary horror. Take my word for it. I’m really enjoying this book.

The official description: A collection of short stories and mini-plays ranging from the horrific to the darkly humourous, from the post-apocalyptic to the weirdly romantic, tales about robots, demons and rats, about potholes, cuddly toys and shopping mall Santas, about love and death and everything in between, tales that will give you a chill and maybe a chuckle, all thought up by the twisted mind of screenwriter Michael Haberfelner. Stories collected in this volume revolve around such things as … – the fate of a bookkeeper in the nuclear aftermath – artificial intelligence gone horribly wrong – a visit to the gynecologist one would rather forget – shrunken heads, quite a few of them – secret thoughts feeding the dreams of others – a Christmas wish gone horribly wrong – inappropriate jokes about moles – the deceiving kindness of strangers… and scores of other things that ought to disturb and entertain you at the same time. Enjoy – if you dare …

Michael Haberfelner also has work in the latest WPaD Anthology Creepies 3 and has contributed to many other WPaD (Writers, Poets, and Deviants) books.

I am honored to have Michael as a fellow author and a friend. However, even if I didn’t know him I’d still love his writing. I’m looking forward to seeing what he writes in the future.

Judgment

By Joseph Finder

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I’ve been looking for new authors, both mainstream and indie. My big find of NYT Best Selling authors this summer has been Joseph Finder.

I’m in the middle of this book so I’ll tell you what I think so far. I LIKE IT. There is a court room, revenge, family drama, teens, a sexy stranger, and MURDER. The best thing is believable characters and a male author who knows how to write female characters. Thank you Mr. Finder. I don’t know what happens next but I know I won’t be disappointed.

When I first read the description of Judgement I have to admit I thought of Dirty Blonde by Lisa Scottoline. Dirty Blonde is in my top ten favorite books of all time. Thank you Lisa Scottoline.

I’m glad I took my chances and picked up with something that is entirely different and the perfect book for summer reading. I know I’ll be reading more Joseph Finder novels in the future.

The official description: New York Times bestselling author Joseph Finder returns with an explosive new thriller about a female judge and the one personal misstep that could lead to her—and her family’s—downfall.

It was nothing more than a one-night stand. Juliana Brody, a judge in the Superior Court of Massachusetts, is rumored to be in consideration for the federal circuit, maybe someday the highest court in the land. At a conference in a Chicago hotel, she meets a gentle, vulnerable man and has an unforgettable night with him—something she’d never done before. They part with an explicit understanding that this must never happen again.

But back home in Boston, Juliana realizes that this was no random encounter. The man from Chicago proves to have an integral role in a case she’s presiding over–a sex-discrimination case that’s received national attention. Juliana discovers that she’s been entrapped, her night of infidelity captured on video. Strings are being pulled in high places, a terrifying unfolding conspiracy that will turn her life upside down.  But soon it becomes clear that personal humiliation, even the possible destruction of her career, are the least of her concerns, as her own life and the lives of her family are put in mortal jeopardy.

In the end, turning the tables on her adversaries will require her to be as ruthless as they are.

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For as long as I can remember I’ve always loved a good story. I love reading them. I love telling them. For me, finding good storytellers is like finding gold, or even something more valuable. For the rest of the summer (and maybe beyond) I’ll continue to share my book finds, and tell you what I’m reading, or what is on my “to read” list.

I’m adding all of my summer reading posts to a link on the side bar of my blog. It will be up by July 2nd, if not sooner.

Happy reading. And as always share books with your friends, your kids, your lovers, your grandma, and everyone else who crosses your path.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

summerreading

Short Story Sunday: Pixie Dust

“You have to sing to them Max.”

“I’m not singing to a demon.”

“They’re not that different from angels.”

“I don’t sing to angles either.”

“Would you sing to a lover?”

Max a slight smile with a bit of fang. “Absolutely not. They sing to me.”

Andy rolled his eyes at his elder brother. “I’m sure they do.”

A chorus of high-pitched giggling could be heard from a cross the room. Max turned around to see what it was. “My God Andy, what self-respecting Vampire allows Pixies in his home?”

“I do.”

The two Vampire brothers finished their goblets of blood in Andy’s elegant sitting room, then moved out to the garden with a bottle of wine.

The Pixies followed in a shower of multicolored sparks and sat among the twinkle lights in Andy’s  trees. They giggled and straightened out their tiny pink and silver skirts.

Andy looked over at his brother Max, the great Vampire warrior, enforcer, hunter of Vampire Hunters, and general bad ass. He was what people thought of when they thought of a sexy, powerful, alpha Vampire. Andrew on the other hand was an opera singer with a life driven by beauty and love.

“Look how cute they are Max. You really ought to make friends with them.”

Max looked disgusted. “They bite.”

“So do we.”

“I already have Selkies and Werewolves invading my life, not to mention Demons. I don’t need Pixies.”

“Everyone needs Pixies Max. And if you’re nice they won’t bite.”

The conversation moved on to other things like wine, art, gossip, and women. The Pixies listened, then went on to their own quiet conversations, then fell asleep in the branches of Andy’s trees.

And the brothers watched the sunrise, in the quiet summer morning, knowing that the fireworks the next night would be much larger than Pixie dust but not quite as charming.

~ end

Tangled Tales

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

It’s ALIVE!

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CREEPIES 3: NIGHTMARES ON DEVIANT STREET

Writers, Poets, and Deviants (WPaD) have come out with their 11th Short Story Anthology and I AM DOING THE HAPPY DANCE.

A bloodthirsty refrigerator…
A murderous pothole…
Legends of mysterious monsters…
Ghosts and magic…
And much more!

A chilling collection of stories from the twisted minds of Writers, Poets and Deviants:
Volume 3 of WPaD’s popular Creepies series.

by WPaD (Author), Mandy White (Author), Diana Garcia (Author), Marla Todd (Author), Michael Haberfelner (Author), David Hunter (Author), Mike Cooley (Author), Soleil Daniels(Author), Lea Anne Guettler (Author), Debra Lamb (Author), and more!

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This anthology includes stories that will scare you silly, make you think, maybe even make you laugh.

And as with all WPaD anthologies, proceeds go to MS charities.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

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