Literature and History – Moms and Vampires

Tonight we talked about history and literature. Then I went right back to my trashy crime novel. But no quiet time for me because I am the mom. Everyone migrated over to where I sat and continued to talk, quite loudly this time, about history and literature. Then they said they loved me and laughed in my face.

I’ve had a few bouts of history and literature of my own lately.

My book is almost finished. All I have to do is polish up the end – the part where everything hits the fan in a big way. It is good. Really good. Best seller good.

As for history, well that is an odd little story of no consequence. My daughter Clara and I recorded our thoughts in the Story Corps booth a few weeks ago. I was so excited. I’d been on the wait list. My teenage daughter, who never stops talking, went with me. We were going to be brilliant.

For those of you who don’t know what Story Corps is please go to storycorps.org or go to npr.org for more information.

What happened is that we arrived at the booth, with our notes, and we rambled. The child didn’t say much. I tried to coax information out of her and she went blank. I went blank as well and rambled on about my parenting philosophy and other odds and ends that were not exactly stories. It wasn’t a fail but it wasn’t our usually rip-roaring hilarious banter.

Needless to say I doubt if you’ll hear us on NPR anytime soon. Our stories will be archived in the Library of Congress forever. If someone, say a researcher in the year 2089, hears them they’ll think, “what an awkward pair.” But they will also know that we are full of love and concern and good things.

You’ve heard my stories here. You know how we talk nonstop and say all sorts of amusing and interesting and funny things. Oh well.

That brings me to Nathaniel Chase.

I never asked him what it feels like to be a leader or figure in the history of my people. I don’t ask him what it was like to be part of a movement that saved all of us from oblivion. He exists on his own terms, day-to-day, just like the rest of us.

Nathaniel Chase was one of the leaders in the Modern Vampire movement that started in the early 1800’s.  He never thought he should have to live in the shadows as a separate species. He brought us back into the light.

Nothing he did was ever without reason or research. I speak in the past tense, but he is still very much around.

When I was young he watched my brothers and me grow up and flourish. We were a large brood as Vampires are concerned (four boys, one girl.) My brother Val and I, the youngest two of my family, were the ones he spent the most time with. Whenever we’d court disaster or need to be rescued he would always be there. I didn’t say we appreciated his interventions, but he was always there for us. More often than not he had his black cat with him. No, not some paranormal cat. It was always just a cat. A normal regular cat. And sometimes he’d bring his longtime girlfriend, a Vampire he’d been with for centuries. Also, there is a literature tie-in because he always had more than one book he was reading.

I’ll have more stories later. There are some here on this blog. I’ll have some links at the end. I guess I’m just feeling like I did in that Story Corps booth. I have a hundred stories I could tell at any given time but today, for whatever reasons, I can’t even think up the words to describe all that we’ve experienced together. I can’t describe this person who has had such an influence on me.

So here are links to some of my adventures with Nathaniel Chase. If there was a Nobel Prize for Vampires he would get it.

Click on the titles below to get to the stories.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

No End in Sight (the rest of the story)

A few weeks ago on my regular (or not so regular depending on how you look at it) feature “Short Story Sunday” I featured a story with no end in sight because I’d written myself into a hole. So I added a survey to my readers about the ending. Still no end, until this morning around 5:00 a.m.

Be warned, this isn’t a Vampire story and (spoiler alert) there isn’t any weird ending. Also this story isn’t based on anything or anybody. If you think it is about you or me or your neighbor Fred you’re wrong. It is just fiction. And that is the end of the story.

vm_on the water

No End in Sight

A short story from Juliette Kings

 

The cold tile under her feet was always preferable to shoes. That was something her mother never understood. Just like nobody understood when Karl passed away she didn’t want to be bothered by anyone for a long time. She went to the beach where she could feel the cool sand in her toes and stood under the gray sky watching the waves for hours. Then she went home and wondered what was next.

He looked across the beach and saw a woman who reminded him of a girl he knew in college. Only this woman was older than the 22-year-old girl he’s last seen. The woman on the beach was around his age. Standing alone she watched the waves. He should have gone up to her, or at least walked by close enough to see if it was the girl who’d haunted his thoughts for the past 30 years.

After she arrived home she sat on her deck listening to the sounds of the woodpeckers. A dog barked or other suburban sounds drifted over the fence. She poured another glass of wine. Now what?

He texted his daughter back. Just a greeting from a college 4 hours away. He thought how she liked the cookies from the recipe his grandmother made up for her grandchildren. As he baked a batch to mail down to Allyson he thought about the woman on the beach. He’d been Allyson’s age when he knew her.  That was an uncomfortable thought.

Life wasn’t a romance novel she thought as she fixed the toilet handle in the downstairs bathroom. The cats came in and out to watch. One started to unroll the toilet paper. She laughed. It was a waste of time to get mad at a cat for being a cat.

The last time he’d spoken to her she’d been looking for work and thinking about graduate school. She’s said something about going to Europe. She wanted to go to a lot of places. Her selection of choices seemed limited and vague. There wasn’t anything clear-cut or normal about her. Other young women he knew had a direction and confidence she didn’t seem to have. He looked up her name on Facebook. She was there. She was sure she was the woman he’d seen on the beach. On her page were posts about her kids, her cats, literary quotes, information about art shows and scientific discoveries. She was obviously successful. There were photos of the beach. Now what? Putting in a friend request wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to reconnect, if he did decide to reconnect.

She knew he was thinking about her. She always knew.

The next morning he went to the beach. She was there, the wind blowing her hair back. They greeted each other with the usual exclamations of people who haven’t seen each other in years. They both looked good. They hugged. They made some immediate small talk. He lived near by. She had business and was visiting an elderly uncle then would drive down the highway to visit her kids in college. Their children all went to the same university. It was a start.

Small talk moved to a small café with coffee, then on to wine. The next morning she was still in his bed. He’d half expected her to have taken off in the early hours of the morning.

He expected her to ask him what he was thinking. Women always asked that. She didn’t. Nor did she ask him about his feelings about last night.

He smiled and handed her a cup. “Good morning Viola.”

She took it and smiled back. “Good morning Greg.”

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

“Last night was exceptionally nice. It was wonderful. Am I going to ask anything of you? I don’t know. Do you want me to?”

“How do you feel?”

“Good. Stop asking me questions and I’ll continue to feel good.” She slipped her arm around his waist and kissed him. “I’m not ready to tell you how I really feel. I wasn’t ready back then and you never seemed to interested. I’m not ready now.”

“Tell me Viola.”

“I enjoy your company. I enjoy your touch. We’re good together. Of course we’re different, you always keep that fact, unspoken as it was, out in the forefront, but our souls are the same. We’ve grown up. We’re the rare few who’ve learned from our mistakes, at least the big mistakes, the ones that matter.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve always known. I was just too stupid to realize it. So were you. Alright, I was in love with you. I always was but I was afraid I’d never see you again if I told you. And I didn’t tell you and I never saw you again. But that doesn’t matter now. We’re here and it is now and so let’s just enjoy our time together. I miss you as a friend. We should have kept that friendship. That was stupid of both of us.”

“Can you stay another day?”

She nodded her head. “I have to see my kids. Maybe next weekend. Or you could come to my house. Just let me know.”

After she’d left he called a few old friends to say “you’ll never believe who just spent the night.”

While Greg talked to his friends about how “together” and “amazing” she was, Viola drove down the coastal highway feeling like a fool. She turned up the music and opened the sunroof. No matter what she knew about Greg, she knew who she was, and that was all that mattered.

surf sunset

 

More Short Stories from Vampire Maman

A good portion of the posts on Vampiremaman.com read like short stories, but the list here is of stand alone stories that don’t always follow the tales of Juliette’s life with her husband, kids and assorted Vampire Mom adventures. Some are from guest authors. A good portion of these tales don’t even have Vampires.

Expect the unexpected … and a lot of fun! Click on the title to go to the story.

You’ll find Gothic romance, horror, humor and a lot of unexpected fun.

Dancing on the Beach
Morning in the Vineyard
When You Grow Old
Heart Shaped Box
A Man Should Have What He Wants
Ode to a Greek God
The Necklace
The Travelers
Perfection
The Shadow of Fire
Robert and the Key
Dark Politics
Romance of the Needles
Stumped
The Child
A Night at the Crest
Dawn of the Undead
Sunday School
The Time Travelers
I’ll Return to You
My Vampire Lover
Innocenzio D’Antonio

How to motivate your cat – yeah right like that is ever going to happen

Our cats do bad things.

We love our cats.

Does that make any sense?

I am a bit pissed off because they didn't need to bring that other cat into my life.

So the cats scratch the furniture. Can we motivate them to scratch somewhere else using treats, sprays, scratching posts? Hell no. They aren’t motivated by food. They aren’t motivated by attention. They are motivated by getting me to stop yelling at them. So I yell.

My cats fight with each other. They run through the house growling and jumping on each other spitting and hissing. I yell again, they keep fighting, I yell again, the dog walks into the other room, they keep fighting. I yell “HEY CUT IT OUT”. That works. It works with my children too.

Vampire Maman's Cat - this makes me want to cough up a hairball - Gloria the Calico Cat

My cats barf. I believe they do this because they enjoy it. We’ve done everything the pet books say. But honestly it isn’t a medical problem. It isn’t a food problem. They like to barf. Only on carpet. Only where we walk. Only where we sleep. NEVER on the tile.

I love my cats.

I put him in his place.

I don’t know why. Actually I do know why. They’re cute and soft and they talk to me in their cute little kitty voices. They purrrrrrrrr. And sometimes they even act like they love me too.

vampire-cat

Short Story Sunday will be back in a few weeks (yes, technically I’m posting this on Saturday but somewhere in the world it is Sunday). I’ll be hit and miss for a bit but if you absolutely MUST get your Vampire fix TODAY click on the links below.

And you want more just scroll through my past posts – there are exactly 500 tall tales, parenting tips and musings to choose from.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman