Werewolf Week

In honor of October, Werewolves, and Halloween the first week of October is now officially WEREWOLF WEEK here at vampiremaman.com

But proceed with caution…

Like my brother Max always says, “I have a dog. Why the Hell would I want to date one?” OK that isn’t his exact words. He says “Why the Hell would I want to fuck one?” I like to at least give the pretense of being polite.

When it comes to the subject of WEREWOLVES  we’re all over the place. We meaning Vampires. By all over the place I mean that we accept them, we live with them and from time to time we’re even friends with them but NEVER are we romantically involved (not that we know of). And of course we don’t have big battles in dark woods or dark caverns with cosplay type costumes. We talk out our problems. Otherwise we’d be like Regular Humans, and heaven forbid we be like them. Of course there might be a little occasional growling or biting but we get over it fast.

What do my readers love? Or maybe the question should be about random readers. The three posts on this blog that get the most traffic are:

1. How to Respond to a Love Letter

2. Taking your teen to a metal concert

3. Halloween Hotties: Werewolves

Yes, Werewolves, right here on the Vampire blog. I’d like to say it is because a few Halloweens ago I mentioned Robert McCammon’s smoking hot Werewolf in the book “Wolf’s Hour”. And yes, that is in my top ten favorite books of all times. And I had the HONOR of being picked up by the authors social media. Wow.

Anyway, several years have passed and people still want to hear about Werewolves.

My friend Adam, who is a Werewolf, often complains that people always ask him about Vampires. Go figure. For the longest time Adam didn’t know I was a Vampire and I didn’t know he was a Werewolf. We hid the fact rather well, too well. We could have ended up killing each other, or worse. Anyway…

One evening we talked extensively about his ability to do true shape shifting. He said it was uncomfortable at times and took a toll on the body. He spoke of being part wolf in sort of a far off way.

“You see, Juliette,” he said to me one night over a bottle of wine on a chilly roof top, “I don’t get chilled when I see a wolf. I get chilled when I see a chimpanzee. I’m not so far off in my DNA from them but they look at me with uncomfortable and defiant eyes of something alien that wants to point an accusatory finger at me. When I look at a wolf I see my brother with a shared soul.”

I could see his point and we were drinking. As a Vampire I don’t shape shift. I just make others believe I do. Part of my hunt is in creating an illusions. With Werewolves things can get a bit more real.

Oh and by the way, Werewolf blood tastes like good well aged Bourbon. But you won’t be able to tell unless you’re a Vampire.

I’ll have more later on Werewolves during the month of October. In the meantime I’ll leave you with a little story I’ve posted here before. The night is still young and I have places to go and people to… well you know how it is.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Lon Chaney looking hot in a suit! Sweetheart stay out from under that full moon!

 

Short Story Sunday:

Grandpa’s Dog

A short story from Marla Todd (featured in the WPaD short story anthology Creepies)

 

“I’m taking him to the vet and having him put down.” Jeff said into the phone.

“No you aren’t.” I said, ready to scream.

“It is cruel to make him suffer like this.”

“He isn’t our dog to put down.” I almost growled at my husband.

“I don’t care. Grandpa will understand. He’s always complaining about how he hates Bruce anyway.”

“The kids will be heartbroken.” I said trying to stall him.

“They’ll understand.”

“What about my mom? She’ll never forgive you.”

“Gretchen, I’m taking Bruce to the vet. I’m sorry.”

“I want to say good-bye.”

“Bruce will understand.” He hung up. Damn him.

Bruce was Grandpa’s dog. He was old. The oldest dog I knew. Jeff thought he was 16. I knew better. Jeff thought Bruce was half wolf and half Alaskan Malamute. I knew he was half Irish. Jeff liked to bake him organic dog treats. I knew Bruce preferred bourbon and prime rib. Jeff thought grandpa was crazy to have such a large dog. I knew Grandpa was half crazy and Jeff was right, it was about the dog, but it didn’t have anything to do with its size.

Once a month I kept the dog for Grandpa, while he “Went to the cabin with his old college buddies.” I hauled the dog to weddings, to funerals, to camping trips and hanging around the house. He’d been there for my college graduation, my wedding, for my kids. My mom had watched the old dog before me. My grandma before her.

Of course Jeff didn’t believe anything my family said about the damn dog. He’d spent years hearing us tell bad jokes and tall tales. It was how we spoke, in stories. I blame it on my Southern parents. Jeff just thinks I’m funny. He tells me I should have my own show on cable. HA HA HA. He thinks my family is quirky and quaint. Right now nothing was funny or quaint.

I raced home from the studio. I’m a photographer, mostly editorial, corporate portraits, product photos. Good thing I’m the owner of the business, otherwise I’d never deal with my husband, my children and Grandpa’s damn dog. I would have had the dog with me today but he was too stiff to climb into the car by himself and at 125 pounds I didn’t feel like lifting him today.

Jeff was still at home. I parked blocking the driveway. Thank God the kids were still in school. I have never been so angry with anyone in my entire life. I barged through the door yelling at my husband. “All I asked you to do was check in on him for me at lunch time and you decided to kill him. Well for once in your life listen to me…”

I yelling stopped when I saw Jeff. He had a towel around his hand. He was bleeding.

“The old guy bit me when I was trying to get him out of the house.” he said with a shrug of his shoulder.

I saw Bruce poke his old white muzzle around the corner.

“Why the hell did you have to bite him?” I yelled at the dog. Bruce tucked his tail and cowered. His ribs stuck out from his sides. He looked ancient and pathetic.

Jeff reached out to scratch the dog behind his ear. “Don’t yell at him. It’s like he sensed what I was going to do. Poor old guy was scared.”

“Don’t touch him.” I yelled. I looked at the wound on Jeff’s hand. It was clean. I went back to the dog. “Damn you, after all I’ve done for you.” Bruce looked at me with glassy brown eyes and shook, tail still between his legs.

Jeff put his arms around me “Gretch, don’t get mad at the dog. “

“You don’t understand,” I gasped.

“He’s old and scared.” Jeff said stroking my hair with his good hand. “You know dear, all that dog hears is “Bruce, blah blah blah. Blah blah blah”. He laughed and gave me a quick hug.

I pulled away. “He’s a werewolf.”

“Oh Honey, don’t call him that. He’s just an old arthritic dog. Poor old guy.” He leaned down to touch noses with the dog. Bruce licked Jeff’s face and thumped his tail on the floor. “You aren’t a werewolf are you old guy? You’re just a prince in disguise. You think she’ll give you a kiss?” Jeff started to make kissy noises.

I thought I was going to throw up.

“There’s a reason why we never see Grandpa and Bruce together.” I growled. They’re the same animal. Bruce isn’t 16, he’s 85. ”

Jeff took a deep breath. “I’m not going to put him down. We’ll wait till Grandpa gets home and discuss it with him. Werewolves. That’s a good one. So when you work at night does that mean you’re a vampire?” he laughed again. “You can bite my neck anytime.” He kissed my neck.

I backed away feeling the panic rushing up inside my body. “Jeff, it’s true and now….”

I couldn’t say the words. Now my husband was going to become a werewolf and I’d have one more old dog to take care of.

 

old dog

 

Vampire Diary: Love Letters

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Dear Diary,

I do not understand the ways of love in this modern world. Not my love. I know my own cold un-beating heart. It is that of others I do not understand. It is not always women because Vampire women have always been of their own minds. They take what they want. We have no defenses. Not that we care, but I do not understand the men.

Oh what a night. My head still spins, but Dear Diary, stay with my thoughts no matter how confused I might seem on this page.

This modern world is strange indeed. Even Vampires play the fool now. It used to be that we, or most of us, were in control. Then I was sealed in a crypt for three hundred years. While I was there, and I am the Vampire King, what do they say now, all Hell broke loose. Vampires lost their minds and became weak. They lost track of their emotions. They became idiots. I am at a loss. Since I am Vlad, the Vampire King I will do my best to educate the young Vampires on the ways  of old.

Tonight I went out my favorite tavern. After mingling with the regulars I looked around and spotted a lone Vampire. Only I knew he was another Vampire. I had spoken to him before tonight, but that was before I knew how pathetic he had become.

He was a young Vampire, perhaps seventy years of age. Yet, he looked young, as I do. I am centuries old. The card I carry that enables me to drive an automobile without being taken to prison says I am thirty four years old. So I lie. I am a Vampire. It is what I do to keep warm blooded people from bothering me. We all do it. You would do the same. I would be crazy to admit I was born in the time modern historians call the Dark Ages.

My young Vampire friend, a fellow called Byron, sat in a back booth of a local bar, alone, with nothing but paper and a ball point pen. Ball point pens are a true modern marvel. He had a glass of red wine in front of him. His face carried an extreme look of sadness.

“What is this?” I asked pointing to the paper he was writing on.

He did not look up, “A legal pad.”

I was puzzled by his answer. “There is paper that is not allowed?”

Byron looked at me with his eyebrows together. “No. Legal pad, as in lawyers.”

“So James, you are writing law? What sort of law?”

“I’m writing a love letter. You should know all about that the way women love you.”

“Are love letters now something that is dictated by law?”

He took a swallow of his wine and spoke again. “No. Yellow paper is just called a Legal Pad because lawyers use it for their notes. Yellow is easy to find. Sheesh Vlad. I’m writing a love letter. Even if wasn’t legal I’d still be writing it.” His face was sad like a mourner at a funeral.

Then I looked upon the page in horror. What came from the head and heart of this man, this Vampire man was both appalling and terrifying.

My darling Lydia,

I long for you company. I am lonely and need you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I sit alone in this bar thinking about nothing but you. Why won’t you love me? Why won’t you notice me? I am here. I hold my hand out to you to come with me. Be by my side. Be my Vampire Queen. Make me complete. My life is a failure without you. Please, it has been so long since I have had a woman in my life. I need you.

“What is this?” I asked.

He gave me a long sad look like a guilty dog who has stolen a man’s dinner off of the table. “I told you man, I’m writing a love letter.”

“This is no love letter. This is a letter of a worm. This is the letter of a man who is not a man but a weak pathetic boy who still longs for his mother’s milk.”

His mouth hung open in surprise. “Vlad I’m not a pervert.”

“Good,” I said.  “That is a trait that will not attract women.”

He shook his head. “No, man, I don’t want my mom’s boobs. I’m not into that.”

“You are an idiot. That is what is called an analogy. It means you have the emotions of a baby.”

Again he looked surprised as if he had never heard the truth before. “What do you mean?”

If I did not carry the title of Vampire King I would have rolled my eyes like a teenage girl. “Byron, please look at the words you put upon your page. No woman, especially a Vampire woman, would respond well to those words. If she is wise she will either ignore you, or better yet, put you out of your misery. Maybe I should put you out of your misery. Your paper may be legal but the pathetic words that you write break every law of romance.”

“Well, I don’t know what to write. I mean, you’re like scary good looking. Every woman in this place thinks you’re the cutest guy they’ve ever seen,” Byron said, looking as if he was about to cry tears.

I did not ask him what he meant by scary good looking. I am good looking but I am not scary looking. As I said, he is an idiot. I know I am cute. I do not understand it, but that is what all of the women who meet me say both to my face and behind my back. Kittens are cute. Babies are cute. I am neither a kitten or a baby. Byron acts like a baby and that is not cute. I am still trying to understand.

I put my hand on his shoulder. He shuttered at my touch. “I am not going to hurt you. I am going to help you,” I said in a low voice.

“Are you going to make her love me?”

“If I do try to make Lydia love you she will hate me forever, but yes, I will try,” I said.

I put pen upon paper and wrote….

Dear Lydia,
I think of you and I smile. When we speak with each other I feel content. Our words flow together as if we are writing a musical about thoughts and ideas to be shared. I feel comfortable around you, as if a century passed our conversations would continue to be fresh, and enlightening. I am glad we met. It would honor me if you would join me in a night under the stars. I look forward to hearing from you.

I put down the pen then I looked up at Byron. “This is but a start. Do not make your attempt at courtship about you. Make it about the woman you wish to be with. This is not about your emotions but about hers. If she agrees to spend time with you, and only then, do you tell her your own feelings. When you tell her how you feel do not act as if you are starving for blood after a year buried in a grave. Act as though you are in control. Be…what do they say now…be an adult about it. Be mature. Not like cheese but like wine. Like a real man.”

I thought to myself that my brain was going to liquify and drain out of my ear if I had to spend another moment with Byron, so I excused myself. This was not what I had planned on doing tonight. Byron thanked me. He told me he would keep me informed of the outcome of his attempt at attracting Lydia. I do not know this Lydia but I am tempted to tell her to run as far away as she can.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight we have our veins full of blood, and our hearts full of love. We might be Vampires, but we are also very much alive.

I lay next to my lover Gillian, watching her in a cold silent slumber. You are so beautiful my love I whisper. She silently smiles and rolls over to face me. I stroke her shoulder and run my hand along her bare arm. I kiss her neck, barely scraping her skin with the tips of my fangs. She signs, and then melts into my arms like ice in the summer sun.

I have nothing more to say.

~ Vlad

 

Romantic Lovers

This picture isn’t really Vlad and Gillian but just for today you can pretend it is. For the complete  Vlad’s Vampire Diary CLICK HERE.

I will be with you…

I will be with you even when we fall apart and our body parts trail behind us…and there is nothing left except our love.

~ From a Zombie Love Letter

Monsters In Love

Love posts for Valentine’s Day

Vampire Maman

Halloween Love Letters

While taking clothes out of the dryer I found a crisp folded piece of notepaper with a note, written with a red Sharpie.

Dear Garrett,
I don’t think you understand how you tear my heart apart. You don’t do anything. You just are. You drive me crazy. You act so cool and I know how you put on a mask. Everyday is Halloween for you.  Stop being so afraid of being yourself. I love you – you idiot.
Ione

Sigh. Seventeen year old Garrett has been writing love letters to girls since he was six years old.  Now girls are writing them to him too. He has known Ione almost his entire life but they just started dating last Spring. If they make it as a couple or not, I’m sure they’ll always be friends – I have a feeling they will (they’re both Vampires.)  So I…

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The Art of Writing Love Letters is Alive and Well (even for Zombies and Ghosts)

In honor of Valentine’s Day I’m posting my most popular love and romance bits today. Enjoy. xoxoxox

Vampire Maman

letters

My brother Val always says “love isn’t a physical thing. It is a meeting of souls. Be it friendship or romantic lovers, it is something we can write about and dream about, but we can never truly explain or define it.”

The Art of Writing Love Letters is Alive and Well (even for Zombies & Ghosts)

The most popular post on this blog is “How to respond to a love letter.”  Really. Seriously, go on Google and look up how to respond to a love letter and it will bring you right back here. Out of the zillion or so things I’ve written on just about every subject everything always circles around back to LOVE.

That is proof that the art of letter writing is not completely dead (YES – real scientific proof)AND romance is still alive and well.

Everyone writes love letters. And that means YOU

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How to write a love letter (just a few words are all you need)

You’re the warm summer breeze against my skin. You’re a warm embrace on a cold winter night. You’re the hot in my chocolate. You’re the key to my lock. You’re the one …

Source: How to write a love letter (just a few words are all you need)