My Vampire Dad

This is an old post, one of the first on this blog, but it is filling for today. It is Father’s Day so I won’t have time to write a short story for “Short Story Sunday.” I’ll make it up to you later. xoxo

Vampire Maman

It ran after me through the woods. We’re not invincible like regular humans try to make us out to be. We’re a lot more fragile and vulnerable than anyone knows. The brush scraped my bare arms, I couldn’t breathe. The wound in my neck had reopened. Falling to my knees I held my throat…

I bolted up on my bed. My daughter was curled asleep against my side in a coma like state (like most kids her age, she sleeps like a log). My son Garret was in the window seat reading.

“You ok mom?”

“I don’t know.” I told him, putting my hand to my neck. It was hot to the touch. I felt like someone had hit me across the neck and head with a baseball bat.

My eye went to the dresser where a large exquisitely beautiful flower arrangement took over the room. I could smell the…

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Silver memories of past and future

Together in the filtered light

Counting silver

Memories of parties

Celebrations

Traditions

Long conversations over wine

And cake.

Soon the knives and forks

Minus the moon and a cow

Will go with the spoons

To a new home

With new traditions

New hopes and dreams

And witness more love

Friendship

And life.

 

My husband and daughter are selling silver plate and sterling on ebay this week (Spring break.) She is learning about sales and business and setting a fine table. It is a way for father and daughter to bond and share.

The art of setting a fine table is fading away, but there are times when we should all bring out something special, be it a piece of silver, a crystal vase, or a beautiful set of goblets. Sets of silver plate are inexpensive, often less than stainless you’d get from any modern store. But there is something beautiful and calm and classy about the old patterns. The silver plate is warm and inviting.

Plus you can give your set a story and a history – it doesn’t have to be true, or can be true to you, or just interesting speculation.

Oh, and don’t forget to hang a spoon off of our nose (click here to find out how.)

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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Short Story Sunday: The Travelers – A Christmas Tale of Mystery, Love and Hope

The Travelers

A Christmas Story from Juliette Kings

The night was falling on the travelers, Daniel and his son Tad and daughter Ada. They had to stop before the nightfall and freezing snowfalls. They were finally going home from the 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.

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.

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 compared notes about sweet dreams that night along with stiff necks. They 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.

night with moon

Note from the author: This is the third time I’ve posted this story that is so dear to my heart. I hope you enjoyed it.  ~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

More from Short Story Sunday

Short Story Sunday is a regular feature on Vampiremaman.com.
Expect the unexpected … and a lot of fun! Click on the title to go to the story.