The Ghost of Pumpkin Spice

“I never had a computer, or pumpkin spice lattes, or a cell phone. I had a VCR for about a year. I had a French Press. I’d get coffee beans from the Farmer’s Market. There was a little booth with a zillion spices and about thirty flavors of coffee.”

“They’re still there. I think the gal there has been selling spices since she was a teenager, maybe forty years now.”

“Wow. Remember the Mexican bakery?”

“I’m a Vampire. I don’t eat pastries.”

“Well, you eat other things besides blood. I know that.”

“The olive guy. There was a guy who sold olives and pickles.”

“You eat olives?”

“Sure. I eat most green things.”

“Artichokes?”

“I love artichokes.”

“Green beans?”

“Sure. Not a lot but you know, sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine Dracula eating green beans.”

“Dracula is a fictional character. In fiction the only time people eat green beans is when they snap them with their grandma. I doubt if Dracula snapped beans with his grandma.”

Nigel the Ghost held a hot mug of coffee laced with cinnamon. He put his head down and closed his eyes. “I miss coffee.”

“You can always get it here,” I said.

“It isn’t the same when you can’t drink it. Shit, I haven’t had a real cup of coffee in thirty two years.”

He brushed his black hair out of his eyes, then smiled.

“What?” I asked.

“I’ve been dead longer than I was alive.”

“So you’ve told me.”

I sat across from the Ghost, his black hair shaggy around his face, a black tie, and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up today. He’d hidden the gash in his head and the blood on his pale face. His eyes flickered from the coffee to me.

He cleared his throat, not because he needed to but for dramatic effect. “I might be a ghost but I’m not completely dead.”

“You’re never completely dead as long as someone stills loves you.”

“I can feel it but unfortunately I can’t see them. Well, I can’t see most of them. I don’t know how to get to them. You know the limits of my territory is out of my control.”

“So you’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with a Vampire. Who would have thought.”

“Want me to heat that coffee up.”

“Sure, and add some nutmeg to it. Pumpkin Spice.” Then he winked and gave me a rare smile. “You know this is weird.”

“Not for us.”

Then he put his head back and laughed. I just sipped my own coffee and then put his cup in the microwave, because that is what friends do, even if they’re Vampires or Ghosts.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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Coffee with Vampires and Ghosts

Ghost story follow up…

Vampire MamanWe had a date night. I usually don’t like to use that term. The kids were staying with friends. We went to a party and got our fangs into some good friends. It was fun. But I couldn’t get the Ghost off of my mind. I don’t like ghosts but this ghost haunts me for some unknown reason as if I could help or as if I’d hurt him, but I haven’t and I can’t. Click here for what happened with the Ghost.

I kicked off my shoes and sat back with a glass of wine. “I can’t stop thinking about the Ghost,” I said to my darling husband.

“What’s going on with the Ghost?” asked my husband Teddy looking out into the dark.

“He pissed me off.”

“You’re always pissed off,” Teddy smiled and kissed my cheek. “When I was turned into a Vampire it was against my will. I had no idea what was happening. I more or less died and came back as a creature that only existed in nightmares.”

“Nightmares. You know we’re not that scary.”

“You’re wrong. We’re extremely scary creatures. You were born a Vampire but for the rest of us it is pretty horrific to think of oneself as a blood sucking, cold blooded, creature of the night.”

“We’re not cold blooded. Well, not completely.” I looked down at the wine glass and knew he was right but didn’t want to admit it.

He continued. “You know what I mean. What I’m saying is the ghost feels the same way but doesn’t have the support system I had. He hasn’t come to terms with the fact that he is a ghost. He is angry.”

“But why is he so angry at me?”

“Because Vampires, those like me, more or less come back from the dead and go on with our lives. He can’t do that. He is bound by whatever keeps him here as a ghost. He resents us. To him we’re all dead but he got the short end of the stick.”

“How long did it take you to stop being angry.”

Teddy sat down next to me and took my hand in his. “On some level I haven’t stopped being angry. But I’ve come to accept and even embrace what I am. I’ve lived in both worlds and seen the best of both. Juliette, I wouldn’t give up the life we have or our children for anything.”

“I love you Teddy, so very very much,” I said then kissed him. “Why do Ghosts more or less ask for help then don’t take it.”

Teddy gave me a knowing smile. “Everyone does that. You live with teens so you should know all about that.”

“You have a point.  But I touched the Ghost. I read his soul. I saw what happened to him, how he died, how he was betrayed. If I could find the person who hurt him and even caused his death maybe…”

“Don’t get involved. He has to work this out on his own. The sun will be up soon, let’s go to bed.” He kissed me again…and well, the rest is private.

 ~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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