Juliette’s Book Club: Tales From the Edge of Oblivion

summerreading

While you’re on lock down at home you might just need some fun new reading material. Consider the themed anthologies from WPaD (Writers, Poets, and Deviants.) The books are fun, cover a wide range of genres, and include some of my stories too.

WPaD is the acronym for Writers, Poets and Deviants. We are a diverse group of writers who came together on the Internet to support and encourage each other.Our collaborative works are charity fundraisers, with a percentage of royalties being donated to Multiple Sclerosis in support of members of our group who live with MS.

Below is one of the stories from Goin Extinct: Tales from the Edge of Oblivion. At the end of the story is more information about WPaD and all of our books.

 

red heart

Captain Sandy and the Airship at the End of the World

(Published as author Marla Todd)

The end of the world had come and gone a long time ago. Of course I wouldn’t dare remind Captain Sandy of that extraordinary fact. He stood in the basket of the airship, hands on the control, the tails of his jacket blowing in the wind.

When the end of the world came the evil and the damned were gathered up and taken down to Hell. The pure and righteous were led up to Heaven in a golden white light.

That left the artists and writers, along with a lot of musicians, wine makers, computer programmers and antiques dealers. Of course there were others, but nobody that lacked a certain amount of creative or innovative spirit. One must have spirit and imagination to survive when the world ends without you.

It worked for me. Well, at least most of the time.

I honestly have to say, the world had become way too serious. I adjusted my goggles and scarf as I looked down on the tire fire that had been burning for the past 100 years. Adjusting the leather hood on my cat, I took him out of his basket to take a look. My five year old son Aaron stood on his toes to get a look as I held tight to the back of his jacket. I must have been a sight, boy in one hand, cat in the other.

Life was an adventure to be savored and enjoyed. It was a destroyed world being built up by those of us with visions of beauty and wonder. Captain Sandy always said this was Heaven. Of course I never told him otherwise. It was Heaven to be in the arms of my husband at night and feel the touch of his skin on mine, that is until I’d run my hand over the deep scars on his back. I called him my fallen angel. He would just laugh and kiss me as only an angel could kiss. Maybe it was Heaven for him since he was now dead, but I will never know unless I die too and find him there.

Once when I was younger my brother and I found some old movies in where everyone at the end of the world were driving big trucks and dune buggies as they shot anyone they came across. There were zombies and crazy fucks of all sorts fighting for the last clean water. It seemed they had unlimited amounts of fuel and bullets. No word of steam, solar and silent airships.

My brother and I laughed at the stupidity of it all. That was not our world. Ours was a world to create without hesitation or critical review. Our poets were considered as important as our politicians. Our sense of style always outweighed our sense of practicality. At least we kept telling ourselves that – all of us did as we banded together trying to give off an air of hope and strength. We created our own world going back to a time that didn’t really exist, where all things were possible and the modern world was still a beautiful dream.

Captain Sandy asked me what I was thinking that could have me looking so serious.

I told him and he just shook his head.

“Life isn’t a theater play like you make it out to be my dear. There are dangerous things out in dark areas of stench and smoke that would enslave us and make us into meals if they could. You’ve been protected in your leather and velvet bustle dresses and fanciful thoughts. It’s a good thing to be ignorant of the world but it is dangerous in ways you can’t imagine.”

“Captain,” I said, “you forget that the shadows took my husband. I take flights of fancy so I won’t fall out of the sky and die of sorrow.”

He turned and gave me a quick smile. Despite the dark pattern of scars on the left side of his face the Captain was still a handsome man with a dazzling smile. All the women were quick to notice him.

“Why are you alone Captain?”

“I’m not.”

“No wife or children?”

“I had a wife. She vanished when the world ended. I never knew if she went up or down or just vanished to dust. Who knows. The bitch could still be around somewhere.”

“So you’re alone,” I said.

“Just free of my wife.” He said nothing else then took off his hat and tied his long prematurely silver hair back with a ribbon he’d pulled from his coat pocket. “So, did you like movies back in the time before?”

I nodded. Of course I liked movies. Most of them were gone now. Rare stashes of films could be found and if we were lucky we’d find something to play them on.

Captain Sandy smiled a rare smile at me. “Sometimes I’m floating along above this all, all of this and I start thinking about Blade Runner and then my mind goes to Casablanca or off to Princess Bride then to In the Heat of the Night. I can run them all in my head, every line, every scene, every music score.”

I told him I did the same. We tend not to talk a lot about the time before the end of the world, but occasionally it comes out. We can’t deny our past. We just can’t help it.

“What did you do before, you know, the end of the world?” I asked the Captain point blank.

“I was a high school physics teacher. Physics and engineering to be exact. What did you do?”

“I produced reality TV shows. The last one was for MTV. Did you ever see Love Bytes?”

He laughed. “That was you? All of my students watched that show. Geeks and romance. A lot of them wanted to be on the show.”

The sky gradually started to turn dark. In the distance we could see lightning strike and the silhouettes of other airships.

I hugged my child and put a blanket around his shoulders. Aaron put his head on my lap and fell asleep. Captain Sandy sang softly a song that we both knew so long ago.

It seemed we’d been here for centuries, only the children aging and growing up.

As a rule we didn’t speak much of what we missed or how much. It was always there in the back of our minds. I missed skinny jeans and sweaters. I missed short tight dresses and yoga at the gym. I missed the music. I missed my friends and family. I missed my job. I even missed the orange trees in my back yard and the sound of the garbage truck at 6:45 am on Thursday mornings. I missed it all.

Captain Sandy turned suddenly and looked at me as if he could read my mind. “Don’t think of how things used to be. Don’t think of why we’re here.”

We both knew why we were here. Nobody wanted us. There was no place for us in Heaven but nobody in Hell wanted us either.

“You’ve got to admit,” the Captain continued, “we’re in a unique position. No matter how bad it looks, this is our world. I spent 18 years teaching kids to understand the building blocks of the universe. I thought I was contributing to the future of our young people so that they would make the world a better place.”

“Now it doesn’t matter,” I said in a rare show of depression over the events that brought us here.

“No. Now it matters more than ever. This is our world. Despite the shadows and ghouls, this is our world now, free and clear. We can still use the building blocks of science and art to make it the place we want it to be. Finally we can do it right.”

“You’re always such an optimist Captain Sandy but do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do. What other choice do I have?”

“You have a point,” I said, noticing the spark in his eyes.

He noticed that I’d noticed. “Look at this as the ultimate reality TV show.”

“If that is the case then who, Captain Sandy, gets the hot girl at the end?”

He smiled. “That depends on you.” Then he turned his face away from me to where I could only see the moon lit reflection of the scars that traced his jawline.

The crew of the airship came up on deck to view the stars and take in the night air. It was good to see them laugh and talk freely of the destination ahead. My son raised his sleepy head and laughed too. Maybe it wasn’t that bad after all. Maybe Captain Sandy would win the game and get the girl. I had a pretty good feeling he would.

Tangled Tales

This story was featured in the WPaD Anthology: Goin’ Extinct – Tales from the Edge of Oblivion. Available on Amazon B&N and with other fine online book sellers. Proceeds of all WPaD go to MS Research.

Coming Soon...

Who can come up with a dozen different ways to end the world? We can!
This apocalyptic collection of short stories explores numerous ways in which life as we know it could end. From the traditional nuclear apocalypse to cosmic events, zombies, mysterious alien substances, evil corporations and even… coffee. These stories will shock, entertain and tug at your heart strings. For your post-apocalyptic reading list, ‘Goin’ Extinct’ is a must-have.

Including stories and poetry from: Mandy White (Author), David W. Stone (Author), Diana Garcia (Author), Marla Todd (Author), Nathan Tackett (Author), J. Harrison Kemp (Author), David Hunter (Author), Michael Haberfelner (Author), Jade M. Phillips (Author), Gina McKnight (Author), Mike Cooley (Author), , Chris Da Cruz (Author), S.E. Springle (Author)

WPaD is the acronym for Writers, Poets and Deviants. We are a diverse group of writers who came together on the Internet to support and encourage each other.Our collaborative works are charity fundraisers, with a percentage of royalties being donated to Multiple Sclerosis in support of members of our group who live with MS.

 

Books by WPaD:

  • Nocturnal Desires: Erotic Tales for the Sensual Soul
  • Creepies: Twisted Tales From Beneath the Bed
  • Passion’s Prisms: Tales of Love and Romance
  • Dragons and Dreams: A Fantasy Anthology
  • Tinsel Tales: A Holiday Treasury
  • Silk She Is: Poetry of Daniel E. Tanzo
  • Goin’ Extinct: Tales From the Edge of Oblivion
  •  Creepies 2: Things That Go Bump in the Closet
  • Strange Adventures in a Deviant Universe (Science Fiction)
  • WPaD Weird Tales,
  • Creepies 3
  • Tinsel Tales 2 – Holiday Hootinanny

WPaD books are available worldwide in paperback and ebook editions.

 

Add Goin’ Extinct to your summer reading list today. You’ll thank me for it later. Also check out the other books from the WPaD group.

WPAD SciFi

Weirder Tales

Weirder Tales – Now Available on Amazon and other fine online bookstores. Proceeds to to MS Research.

wpad poster

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LT240EA/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_dp_t2_LfZjybD530NJK

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

As We Shelter In Place

Why is it that those of us who’ve written apocalyptic fiction are the ones who take apocalyptic fact the most seriously? It seems that way doesn’t it?

I told that to a writer friend of mine tonight. She was frustrated by all the stupid people who won’t stay in place and insist on doing stupid risky things. I’m frustrated by it all as well as baffled.

Like most of my friends and family we have been keeping to ourselves. That means keeping a limit on the news.

Never the less we keep hearing of people flaunting warnings. We see people on the beach and out at large social gatherings. We see politicians thinking that nobody should stay home. We hear preachers aka conmen saying they can protect their flocks. We hear of them believing conspiracy theories and other insanely stupid shit they hear from their usual stupid and insane sources. What the fuck is going on in Florida?

Tell those who think they are safe “It is not about you.” It is about all of us. It is about those who are at risk – which is ALL OF US.

This isn’t the flu. This is more like the plague. But it isn’t the plague. It is something that is it’s own pandemic.

Look up the word exponentially. That is what the the coronavirus COVID-19 does – it grows exponentially.

Whenever you have exponential growth, whatever it is that’s growing will double its presence/population in a given amount of time. Let’s say you start with a population that has just one infected person on January 1st, and the number of infected people doubles every three days. 

Here is a link to an article that will explain this more. Please have any nonbelievers you know read it. https://www.forbes.com/sites/startswithabang/2020/03/17/why-exponential-growth-is-so-scary-for-the-covid-19-coronavirus/#7725ac144e9b OR just CLICK HERE.

To all of my friends who are still working in the medical field, in grocery, drug, and hardware stories, to first responders, police, and all of are keeping the rest of us going: THANK YOU.

For everyone who has had to close their business or stop working and is now sheltering in place THANK YOU.

You know what you need to do. Do it. I want to be seeing you hear in the future. I want to keep reading your blogs. I want to know you are alright.

Keep writing / blogging both fact, fiction, and that wonderful something in-between. Just keep the facts when writing about COVID-19.

Keep entertaining us with your work because god knows we all need a good laugh now. Share your art, music, and cat pictures. Share, share, share.

As a final thought PLEASE keep in touch with your friends and family, especially those who are fragile or might need extra help. We don’t want to lose anyone.

Sending out love and common sense to all,

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

batmanandrobin

Short Story Sunday: The Box In Dave’s Basement

The Box In Dave’s Basement

“I was just going out for coffee,” said Austin as he looked at the carnage surrounding him.

Coffee with the crossword puzzle, and a little bit of fresh air sounded good. Then Dave, who lived three houses down called to him as he waked by, “Hey, Austin, there’s something weird in my basement. Take a look.”

Austin was both a history professor and a general contractor specializing in historic restorations, so of course he’d check it out. Dave lived in the oldest house on that street, built in 1888. It was a fantastic small Queen Anne, painted shades of blue and cream.  Dave led the way to the back of the dark space to an oblong box.

“I was measuring the room and moved away some lumber that had been here since I moved in and found this,” said Dave. “It looks like a coffin. Do you think I should call someone?”

“Let me take a look. I’ve found these before,” said Austin, taking out his penknife. He slid the knife around the edges of the box to see if there was a latch or any loose spots.

Then all Hell broke loose. Two men, dressed in long black coats, carrying guns and large knives appeared at the door.

“Hey,” yelled Dave. “Get the fuck outta here. I told you guys to stay away from my house. I’m calling 911. I warned you.” Then he turned to Austin. “The bastards were out last week. I told them…”

The men moved closer. Dave continued, “Out NOW.” Dave was a medium sized silver haired average family guy his mid fifties, with some sort of upper management job with the Department of Water Resources. His wife was wife away on a girl’s weekend. His kids were away at college. He’d been working on making the basement into the ultimate man cave over the past few weekends. He wasn’t in the mood for Vampire Hunters.

“Damn it. I said GET OUT you crazies,” Dave yelled.

“Just let us have the box,” said one of the men, a tall shaggy haired guy with some sort of unidentifiable accent.

Austin took a step forward, getting between Dave and the vampire hunters. “No can do guys. You have to go.”

The other man, a bald guy with huge shoulders pointed a gun at Austin and Dave. “Move aside gentlemen.” He then shoved them out of the way and with a swift kick popped open the box.

Inside was the perfectly preserved body of a woman in an old fashioned lace dress. She looked as though she was made of fine leather. A bunch of dried roses were in her hand.

The shaggy haired man lifted a huge wooden stake. Dave and Austin both yelled, “NO.”

Dave jumped on the back of the bald man. Austin knocked the shaggy haired man out of the way.

Suddenly a blinding flash of light and a blast of cold air knocked them to the wall. Two more men appeared at the door, also in black but without the coats. One carried a knife, and the other a whip. The smiled, showing fangs.

“Holy shit,” whispered Dave.

The vampires grabbed the men in the black coats by the scruff of their necks, like small children, and threw them back out into the sunlight. One of the vampires uttered a string of long strange sounding words, and the vampire hunters ran down the street.

The woman in the coffin sat up, and moved her head around.

“Stiff neck?” Austin asked.

She looked at him, surprised. Then she smiled with a slight show of her own fangs. “Yes, thanks for the concern. How long did I sleep?”

“From the looks of your dress, maybe ninety years,” said Austin.

“I guess I missed that party then,” she said with a slight laugh.

“This is too weird,” said Dave as he got up, and crossed the room. He turned on the overhead shop lights and got a good look at his company. “You mean to tell me you’ve been in that box for ninety years?”

The woman just blinked against the light. The two Vampires stood out of the shadows.

“Hey, Austin,” said one of them. “I thought that was you.”

“Pierce,” said Austin. “I had no idea you were a vampire. Small world. Dave, this is Pierce, he guest lectures for me sometimes on nineteenth California government issues.”

“And this is Max, he…”

“Max,” said Austin as he held out his hand. “Good to see you. Thanks for helping out.”

“Austin,” said Max.

Dave looked at the Vampires then laughed. “Pierce. I know you. You were teaching American History at UC Berkley in the late 70’s. I took a couple of classes from you. You look like you haven’t aged a day. How old are you?”

Pierce smiled and shook Dave’s hand. “I’m 171, but who’s counting.”

“I was just going out for coffee,” said Austin as he looked at the carnage surrounding him. “You’re all welcome to come.”

The woman’s name is Lily. She had a lot of catching up to do so Dave gave her a pair of jeans and a shirt out of his wife’s closet, and they all headed out for coffee.

That’s all.

 

Tangled Tales

Yes, some of you might have seen this one before. I know we’re on lock down but things are weird, even for Vampires. But I’m writing new material. I’m writing. Stay safe. Stay safe. Stay safe. Do all of your social distancing. Keep your sense of humor. Keep in touch with friends, family, and anyone who needs a little long distance company. xoxox

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman.

Remember… Thoughts for International Women’s Day 2020

Remember those who came before you.

Remember those who could not vote.

Remember those who were expected to be silent.

Remember those who were told to follow.

Remember those who refused to follow the rules and paved the way.

Remember those who changed the world and raised their children to change the world. 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

lola

Lola

Short Story Sunday: Romance of the Needles

Featured in the WPaD (Writers, Poets, and Deviants) Anthology Weirder Tales.  

 

Romance of the Needles

Tiffany packed up her laptop and decided and left the coffeehouse at 5:00. Her bag was packed with a hundred hypodermic needles, red lipstick, a few limes and a couple of condoms.

In the restroom she’s shook the ponytail out of her hair, donned a black cocktail dress, red lipstick and black stiletto heels.

He told her he had something for her. She didn’t know what it could be. Flowers maybe? A gift certificate to a spa perhaps? He wasn’t the type to give anything inappropriate; after all, she had worked for him.

After the accident she’d worked around the clock helping with public relations work and anything else that was needed to keep his business going. Sure he had a huge staff and she was the outsider, but she knew she had to mean more.

Driving to his estate she knew what she was doing the wrong thing. In the hospital he’d taken her hand and murmured over and over that all he wanted was clean needles.

Her reaction was so wrong, but she wanted him in such a wrong way. Hers was a sick, twisted, obsessive love. In turn she was addicted to him the same way he was addicted to whatever it was he needed to inject himself with.

She would rescue him from his habit. In gratitude he’d give her his love, his body, his life. She’d be the angel who’d be with him when the drugs called to his soul and the addiction sang its serene song to him. She’d be the chains on the rock that held him safe. His addiction would switch from the opiates that held his will, and she’d become the fire that consumed his soul.

On the other hand, he could be looking for clean needles for disease prevention in local addicts. He could be one of those good souls who bring bag lunches and blankets to homeless people. No, it couldn’t be that. She needed to rescue him, not help him rescue a bunch of stinky strangers.

He answered the door, dressed in a long sleeve tee shirt showing off his muscular form, well fitting jeans, with a lock of hair falling over his forehead, almost begging for her to brush it out of his eyes, wrap her hand around his neck and pull him into a kiss.

“Tiffany, what a surprise” he exclaimed. “You look lovely.”

Leading her to a room in the back of the house he spoke of his recovery and how he was ready to live a fulfilling life of enlightenment and joy. His smile was dazzling as he looked at her for affirmation.

“My dear Tiffany, I have something special for you,” he said, causing her heart to flip. On the tables were baskets. Exquisite baskets of brown, amber and tan. Tiffany watched him push up his sleeves, and pick up a basket with clean, track free arms.

“You’re all dressed up.” He said to her, delighted, yet somewhat puzzled to see her in the seductive black dress.

She lied “I was going to meet some friends at a club but they canceled out. Um, these are lovely. Very unusual.” she said looking at the baskets. She felt like an idiot.

He handed her a reddish brown basket. “This is one of my favorites. It took me almost 60 hours to make it. I’d like you to have it, as a thank you. You know, darling Tiffany, my business wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you.”

Tiffany’s heart pounded. Her head was light. She studied the intricately woven patterns, amazed by the construction, sick to her stomach. “You made it out of pine needles.” She said, feeling her face go flush, trying not to cry. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

A tall strikingly beautiful auburn haired woman came into the room. “I’m sorry Daniel, but you need to wrap up business and send your little friend home. Dinner is ready.”

Daniel flashed Tiffany his dazzling smile once more. “It’s so hard to find clean needles this time of year.”

 

~ end

Weirder Tales

Weirder Tales – Now Available on Amazon and other fine online bookstores. Proceeds to to MS Research.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Off Kilter and Out of Sorts

I’ve been insanely busy lately. I’ve also been run down and insanely sick.

Yes, even Vampires get under the weather, along with just about everything except Ghosts and Zombies.

Unfortunately Zombies are always under the weather in their own putrid rotting way. Ghost tend to be sad all of the time.

So needless to say it isn’t any fun around here.

I’ll see you all later and to my three regular readers thank you for hanging in with me.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman