My Christmas Necklace

My Christmas Necklace – A Vampire Romance

A few nights ago we had friends for dinner. Let me reword that. We dined with good friends of ours. It was two couples we’re friends with (they’re regular humans who don’t know we’re Vampires). It is a dress up affair. We have cocktails; take in the theater or a concert, then have dinner and more drinks. And my darling husband Teddy and I get a little blood donation and leave our hosts feeling warm and fuzzy and full of holiday cheer.

I wore a black dress with red heels. It was set off with a gold necklace of delicate flowers with red garnets, enameled holly leaves and seed pearls.

One of my friends commented “You wear that beautiful necklace every year. There must be a story behind it.”

“Teddy gave me this on our first Christmas together. It was his mother’s.” I told everyone the truth, but didn’t tell them the entire story behind it.

It was in the 1880’s. My brother Val and I were young Vampires in London, which was the place to be. It was a golden age for us.

Of course being the young American Vampires we were…we got into a lot of trouble and had way too many adventures of the wrong kind.

So to make a long story short, it was Christmas Eve when Val and I found ourselves trapped in a crypt. Yes, a crypt full of rotting human bodies, not a fit place for any self respecting Vampire of a certain social level. We were of a higher social level. We had class, culture, good looks and money. Most of all we had connections. What Val and I lacked was common sense and experience.

So we’re in this crypt, chased by Vampire Hunters, Rogue Vampires who were pissed off at us, AND the local police.

We were also trapped. Yes, being the super strong creatures that we are, we could have busted down the door, but that would have done three things. It would have shown a lack of respect for those who were interned in the crypt. It would have made a lot of noise and attracted too much attention. But most of all, we were wearing rather expensive clothing if that clothing were to be ripped it would have drawn too much attention.

So we waited to figure out a plan B or to be rescued. Plan B was our only real option.

Just as we were about to sit on the ground and wait until the next night to break our way out the door started to slide open. We waited, fangs barred, holding on to each other for dear life, yet ready to kill whatever came through to us.

We saw a lone figure shadowed in the doorway.

I could hear a slight hiss under Val’s breath as he readied himself for an attack. Then a voice with a definite American accent said “Valentine? Juliette? Oh my heavens! Is that really you?”

And out of the shadows came Teddy. I hadn’t seen him for 10 years, not since he’d become a Vampire.

We said quick greetings and I asked “What are you doing here?”

He lifted the lid from one of the stone caskets. “This woman couldn’t steal my father’s heart so she stole my mother’s jewelry. I’m here to get it back. I never expected in a hundred years to find you two here.” And with one swift movement he took the necklace from around the neck of a slightly un-fresh corpse and then removed her bracelet and ring.

Suddenly we heard footsteps and saw torches across the lawn. I recognized the voices. “Let’s go. They’re back.” And they were in full force, come to kill the Vampires, who just happened to be us.

We ran down the road as fast as we could. I help my skirt up around my knees and cursed the day I was born a girl. Damn it trousers would have been nice right then.

A cathedral lay ahead, lit up for the Christmas Eve service.

“We can’t go in there,” said Teddy in a panic.

“Why not?” Asked Val.

“Because,” said Teddy “We’re undead. We’re Vampires. We’ll die.”

“We’re not undead. Your heart beats. You have not one but two souls. You are a creature of the night, and this is a midnight service. We will be welcome and blessed for we do harm to no one.”

I grabbed Teddy by one hand and Val by the other and took them into the church. We sat in the back and quietly sang along with our angelic Vampire voices, savoring the candle light and peace of the moment.

After it was over we headed for home, a fashionable and safe house not far away.

“I thought it wasn’t safe for our kind in churches,” said Teddy.

“It usually isn’t.” Val said, brushing off his coat. “But they can’t hurt us in a church. Or at least they do not dare hurt us there. Besides, I like the music. It soothes me.”

“What did you mean about two souls? I thought my soul was gone.” Teddy looked at us in a very serious way.

“Do you think that anyone with so much love and passion could exist without a soul? Oh Teddy, don’t be such a child. We need two souls. One for our own existence and one for our shadow. Didn’t you know that?”

The first rays of dawn arrived as we arrived at the house. Teddy crashed in one of the spare bedrooms. But before he slept, he put the necklace he’d taken around my neck. “My mother always liked you. She would have wanted you to have this.”

I was honored and touched. Since then I’ve worn this necklace every Christmas season.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

This was first published here in 2012 – my first Christmas writing and sharing my story at http://www.vampiremaman.

Silver Webs and Silken Bats

Silver Webs and Silken Bats

Today my husband Teddy is helping the Elders decorate for Christmas.

He found old netting of silver spider webs and long strings of red glass beads to add to the old fragile ornaments they put up every year.

Over the past few years they stopped decorating but Teddy decided they needed a tree.

In the attic he found boxes of hand blown glass owls, small wooden elves from Germany, tiny little bats made of beaded black silk and a large hat box full of shining stars and crescent moons with smiling faces.

Just because you’re old doesn’t mean you need to stop celebrating.

“But who will see the tree?” The ancient Vampires looked confused.

“You will see it,” said Teddy. “I will see it. Your friends will stop by and see it. You need to pick up the phone and call your friends, both Vampires and humans. Call your old Werewolf friends too, I don’t care who you like. If they’re old let me know and I’ll give them a ride here and I’ll give them a ride home. I’ll make them egg nog. I’ll help you make it happen for everyone.”

Tellias and Eleora look young but they’re ancient. They’re older than Christmas, so sometimes they get confused or feel isolated. Sometimes they forget everything outside of their own house.

Teddy always hounds me to call my friends and people I know who might need a friend. We all know what it is like to spend a holiday alone or without cheer of others. Even a little tree or a wreath or a shining star on a string can make a difference. More than that a hug or a call.

Christmas time is about the promise of peace and hope and love. After 2019 years the human race still hasn’t gotten it right, but maybe one day. The smallest acts of kindness can move us closer in that direction.

Wishing you all a season of peace and fellowship.

And about that husband of mine…I’m glad I married him. I always will be.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

time for christmas

 

The Travelers A Tale of Mystery, Love and Hope

A Christmas Tradition at Vampire Maman

The Travelers

A Tale of Mystery, Love and Hope
from Juliette Kings aka Vampire Maman

The night was falling on the travelers, Daniel and his son Tad and daughter Ada. They had to stop before the dark of night and freezing snowfalls. The father and his children were finally going home, from the broken dreams of gold to the city where Daniel had found a job in his profession of typesetter and reporter. When his wife had passed on he followed his dream to the California gold fields taking his teenage children with him. For good or bad they’d made the new state their home.

As the snow began to fall they came upon a cabin, the door boarded up from the outside, the windows shuttered. It looked deserted and like shelter for the night. Dan and his son pried the nails off of the boards, which secured the door and went into the two-room structure. Inside was a cozy room with a fireplace, comfortable chairs and a wall full of books. Dan sent Tad out to bring in firewood.

Ada went to the bedroom and called her father. On the bed was a man, still as the night, cold and pale as the snow. In his arms, wrapped in blanket was a tiny girl in a red velvet hat, a scarf covered up most of her small face. She was also still and pale.

Ada’s heart sank. The poor souls in the bed looked to have passed on. But why were they trapped in the cabin? Had they been sick? Why were they not buried with a prayer and the proper respect? The man’s coat was obviously expensive and of the finest materials. His boots were of the most beautiful leather and style. His face was handsome and refined. Ada took off her glove and touched the back of her hand to the man’s face. He was indeed cold as ice and still as death. She called in her father.

“I know this man.” He said. “A fine man. A poet. I heard him read when I was in San Francisco. What a tragic pity to find him here with his child.”

The looked upon the bodies of the father and child when they saw the slightest movement and the man opened his eyes.

“My daughter, please help her,” whispered the man on the bed.

Ada took the girl in her arms. She weighed almost nothing. The child let out a sigh. Ada brought the girl into the other room and sat in a rocking chair by the fire Tad had built. The girl started to move and put her face against Ada’s warm neck. Ada soon fell asleep with dreams of flowers and all things good.

In the morning the poet and child were gone.

The travelers found box covered with red paper. In the box was a golden heart and a note to Ada.

Dearest Ada,

This heart belonged to my dear wife who was murdered by villains of the vilest kind. Please wear it knowing that you will always be loved and you will always be a part of us.

TK

On the table in the front room was a bounty of food. Where had it come from? There were fresh baked goods, milk and juice, exotic fruits, sausages and chocolates. Under small quilted cozies were pots with fragrant tea and coffee. Another note was slipped under the teapot.

Daniel read the note aloud to his children.

My heart thanks you for your generosity.

You saved our lives.

You never questioned who had trapped us or hurt us.

You never judged us.

You never feared us.

The love between parent and his children is burned into your heart like the fires that burn in the heavenly stars.

My daughter and I will never forget you.

Your children and their children and their children will always be safe and watched over and kept from the harm of wicked men. I owe and promise you that.

Never fear the night or the darkness for we will always be watching your back.

Wishing you a Happy Christmas.

~ Thomas Kent

As the travelers ate they talked of the sweet dreams they’d had the night before, along with stiff necks they had that morning. Daniel and his children  spoke of Mr. Kent and his precious daughter and wondered why they’d been trapped in the cabin.

Many many years later after a long and wonderful life full of romance and adventure, Ada fingered the heart, which she still wore. As she took her last breath she said, “I have never known fear, only love”.

An ocean away Thomas Kent felt an icy wind, then hope and gratitude in his cold Vampire heart.

~ End

 

ParrishCabin_Travelers

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Ugly Christmas Sweaters

Dear Diary,

I have been listening to Christmas songs on the radio. Nothing they sing makes any sense. These are just songs about children who want huge animals, broken romances, mothers cheating on their husbands, and women asking a mythical man in a red suit for high priced gifts. I do not understand.

Then…THEN there are witches. Why are no creatures stirring? Have the witches been banned from their potions the night before Christmas? Have their animal familiars gone away into winter hibernation brought on by the over abundance of green and red lights? Are mice organizing? It is truly horrifying.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

After spending three hundred years locked in a crypt therefore missing the 18th, 19th and 20th Centuries I find myself still learning, and a bit confused over current Yule season traditions.

I received an invitation to what is called an ugly Christmas sweater party. I do not understand the significance of this. I asked my Vampire lover Gillian about this. She said for God’s sake Vlad it is just for fun. At times Gillian has little patience with me.

On the Google I found many references to ugly Christmas sweaters. It seems the sweaters depict favorite holiday motifs portrayed in bright red and green colors. In the spirit of Yule I have decided that I will make my own Christmas sweater.

During my childhood, unlike my current situation in this place called California, it was often bitterly cold, even for Vampires. It was during a dark cold winter storm lasting two weeks that my Baba taught me how to knit and how to do needlework. One could say that was an unconventional task for a ten year old Vampire boy but Baba said as the future King of Vampires I must know many skills. She stressed that as a Vampire I must know all of the survival skills, including being both protected from the elements and striving to always being fashionable.

In a yarn shop, where they sold only yarn, I found a pattern for a sweater suitable for the male body. Next I looked for the right needles. I learned on needles made of bone and wood. These needles were brightly colored like ugly Christmas sweaters.

The women in the shop asked me if they could help. They wanted to know if I was buying a gift. When I told them I would be knitting my own sweater they all but swooned. I am used to such reactions. Then I told them that my grandmother, my Baba, had taught me to knit with yarn. At that point the air was thick with love and admiration.

After about an hour I left with a bag of black, green, red, gold, brown, and white yarn, needles, and a pattern. I also left with a belly full of blood, but left the women with smiles on their faces. They do not remember my taking their blood, only that a handsome man came into the shop and charmed them.

At home I have begun to knit.

My friend Randolpho came over to check out what I was doing. He told me he thought the sweater would bring quite a reaction. I told him that I was mixing both new and old traditions. It warmed my cold Vampire heart to work on such a project.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight was the Ugly Christmas Sweater party at my friend Cassie’s Pub. She had closed her establishment down and just invited friends and family. Cassie is not a Vampire. I do not scare her friends with the fact that I am.

My sweater was finished and fit quite well. I did not think it was ugly at all. Maybe it was a bit unusual due to the cats I knitted onto the back. I was willing to accept any stares or giggles that might bring.

There was quiet when I walked into the room.

Everyone looked at the front of my sweater in wonder, and maybe a bit of horror. I was confused by this. Was this not supposed to be a Christmas party full of holiday cheer and memories of traditions old and new?

On my sweater was the large image of a man with bloody feet. I used shining metallic red thread for the blood. I put green blinking lights on his eyes. It was indeed an ugly sweater, yet beautiful at the same time. I was happy with it.

When I walked in there was quiet, then a gasp.

“Die Hard,” someone said.

“Yes, indeed,” I replied. “A Christmas classic so I am told. My sweater is covered in beloved motifs of Christmas traditions.”

I did not only make the Die Hard man. On the left sleeve was Krampus with his long tongue wrapped around the arm. Tiny faces of children in agony due to the whip of Karmpus bordered the cuff. Krampus held out a large bag ready to pack in the children. It took me hours to get the shading of the folds correct on the bag. I spend much time unraveling and re-knitting it. The results made me happy indeed.

On the right sleeve were shining bright white skulls with gold and silver sparkles stuck upon bright red and white, what is now called candy cane poles. Snow flakes danced brightly in the sky above the skulls.

On the back of the sweater I knitted a picture of my two cats sitting next to a Christmas Tree.

Everyone at the party was impressed when I told them that I knitted the sweater all by myself. Again there was more swooning from the ladies. They all said I was so cute. I do not understand what they mean by cute but I shall accept it as a compliment by the sheer lust in their eyes.

It warmed me to think that 665 years ago, my Baba taught me how to knit. It seems like yesterday.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Yule is a time that even makes Vampires feel warm. The views of pine trees is now replaces with orange trees. I am becoming accustom to my new home where there is no snow, no castles, and not many Vampires.

My love Gillian and I watched Die Hard tonight while we sipped warm blood mixed with spices and a splash of red wine.

Too much merry and bright makes my skin crawl, but this year it has been just enough to make me feel there is hope for me in the modern world.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 55th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read Vlad’s diary from the start CLICK HERE.

Chaos and Mistletoe

Chaos and Mistletoe

Marsha stomped the mud off her boots, threw her coat on the couch and stretched out her leathery wings. Fuck winter. Fuck Christmas. Fuck everything jolly and nice. Fuck peace on Earth, and all goodwill to everyone. Fuck Will, whoever the fuck he was.

She brushed back her hair and noticed a snag in her black Cashmere sweater. Damn it all. Her tail whipped around and hit the side of the Parson’s table she’d put in the entryway last week. Damn it. That hurt. Tears welled in her yellow green eyes.

Nobody understood how hard it was sometimes being a Demon. Nobody. Especially this time of year. Even the Vampires and Werewolves were making merry and bright. Damn them.

She poured herself a tall glass of twenty something year old Scotch and plopped down on the couch in front of the TV. She clicked through the channels. Three hundred Christmas movies showed up. How many fucking Christmas brides can there be? For Hell’s sake. She could watch one of the five thousand British murder mysteries on Netflix but they ALWAYS found the killer. What fun was THAT?

Looking out the window at the tiny yellow and brown song birds Marsha felt a little twinge of envy. You can spread your wings whenever you want. It doesn’t matter if anyone sees you. You don’t have to hide your tails. Then she wondered what they tasted like.

She guessed she could have gone out again and stirred up more trouble, and made people more miserable but she didn’t feel like working. It had been ages since she’d had a few days off. Everyone else was taking time off so why not her.

There was a knock on her door. Marsha was sure the doorbell worked. Why wouldn’t people ever use doorbells? Putting down her glass she answered the door.

“Hey baby,” said a voice as smooth as silk and the best chocolate ever made.

Marsha’s bad mood left her. Oh it was a rare event when she wasn’t feeling like she wanted to kill something.

“Ace,” she whispered his name and pulled him inside. Everyone called him Ace but his real name was Azazel, the fallen angel. Marsha didn’t care if he was one of them. She was alone and off the clock.

Ace stretched out his slate gray feathered wings. Damn, it took up almost the entire entry way. He was so hot.

Later that night she lay entwined in her lover’s arms. She almost felt happy and content. She almost wanted to wear a sundress and go to the beach. She almost felt like she was in love.

“What are you thinking?” Ace asked as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

“I don’t know. I was thinking what it would be like to be a Christmas bride.”

“Well, you’ll never know now will you,” said Ace.

“You’re such a dick,” said Marsha.

“Merry Christmas baby,” said Ace with a long hollow laugh.

Marsha closed her eyes tight then opened them wide. “And a nasty New Year.”

And they fell asleep as a carpet of black mold grew over their dark souls, and they dreamed of chaos and mistletoe.

~ end

 

Christmas Orphans (a short random tale)

Christmas Orphans (a short random tale)

“Why do I have eyes of different colors? The brown eye is my own. The blue eye is a different story. I plucked it from the freshly dead body of a young Irish nun. She’d killed herself because she had a vision that the child she was carrying, the child of the handsome young priest, was the Antichrist.”

“Why were you there Uncle Jeff?” A young voice in a hushed whisper asked.

“Because, my dear, I was the handsome young priest. That was before the life I live now. But I still see visions of angels and of a family in a warm embrace of love, then the fires of Hell with dancing devils and…”

“JEFF. STOP IT,” I yelled. “You’re going to give them nightmares.”

I know better than to ask my crazy brother to tell Christmas stories to my children and their young cousins.

“But, Simon, the stories are true,” my brother said as if he believed what he was saying.

“Kids, don’t listen to him. He’s blowing stories out of his…out of his ears.”

“Did I tell you about the time I met Santa Claus?”

“Jeff, no more storytelling.”

“It was the winter of 1969.”

“Jeff you were a toddler in 1969.”

“You have no idea how old I really am. Brother I have secrets that will make your head explode. Now children, the rest of the researchers on the Arctic research station had died of a mysterious illness. Then the giant polar two ton bears came. I’ll never forget the sound of them crunching on the bones of my friends.”

“Giant two ton polar bears?”

My brother and the children ignored me as he continued his tale. “I wouldn’t let them eat the dogs so we took off with the sled north, following the stars. Frozen and hungry, my body could take no more. Out of my blue eye I could see my angel Bernadette, the nun I’d loved. Her visions…”

“Jeff!”

“Then I heard bells. Not big bells like the Liberty Bell, but small happy bells. A lot of bells. I thought I was in a dream. My dogs huddled close. Then we saw them. The Zombies…”

I went to the kitchen for a beer. My wife and Jeff’s weird Goth girlfriend were talking about how to make the perfect prime rib.

Spotting my sister Libby out on the deck I went out to join her.

“It’s cold out.”

“Cold but not as weird as it is inside.”

“Do you think there is any truth to his stories.”

“I don’t know. He has memories of before we were found. All the records still say we were abandoned at the rest stop outside of Barstow. Nobody came forward to claim us. We’re related for sure, the DNA tests prove that, and we look like each other  but…”

My sister shrugged. “I did more research but didn’t find anything. Nothing. It is like we were dropped by aliens.”

“Or Santa Claus.” I said.

We were found on Christmas Day, three toddlers. Our dad was the highway patrolman who found us. Jeff was the oldest, then Libby and I was just a baby. The doctors figured Jeff was around three, Libby maybe two and I was a newborn. We were all wearing hand knitted Christmas sweaters and red Santa hats.

Our life was happy and normal with our new parents. They loved us unconditionally. They still do.

I never thought about who might have left us at the rest stop with typed notes saying “Merry Christmas. Please keep us together,” pinned on our sweaters.

Libby and I went back inside to catch the end of Jeff’s story.

“In the morning Santa and I sat on the beach listening to the crashing waves. I passed him the bottle of whiskey we were sharing and he put his hand on back and said “Good job son, good job.”

~ End

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman