Vampire Diary: Hot Mess

Dear Diary,

Today I walked to the end of the street to pick up my mail. My cats and Jane the coyote pup followed me.

A group of teenage girls sat on the front porch of the house nearest the mail box. They waved to me.

“Oh my God, Vlad you’re so cute with your cats and the pup,” said one of them.

I smiled minus my fangs. The girls giggled. They find me attractive but I do not know what is cute about a man with board shoulders and almost six feet of height. Cats are cute. Puppies are cute. I have yet to understand what this cute word means. They also call me sexy, but not to my face. They do not call cats or coyotes sexy. That makes more sense to me. My lover Gillian told me not to think about it and to stop being silly. I am not silly.

As I looked through my mail, mostly letters from other vampires, I could hear the girls talk. One said a friend of hers was a hot mess. Hot mess?

So I said, “I could not help but overhear your conversation. What do you mean by hot mess.”

They all laughed out loud. Some laughed with high pitched voices. One had a laugh that was low and rough, but not unpleasing. One laughed like a woman ready to seduce and rule the world.

I repeated myself. “Sweet ladies, you know I am not from here. Please, what is a hot mess? Is it something you eat?”

They laughed again. Then one girl, the one with the low and rough laugh answered. “A hot mess is when someone tries to look good and ends up looking like a disaster. They’re just a hot mess.”

“I see. That is amusing,” I said. “Am I hot mess?”

They giggled. Then one said, “You’re just hot.”

Then they giggled some more and didn’t stop.

They then talked among themselves and I heard one say no sheets Sherlock. I wondered what was meant by that. I did not ask. I told the girls goodbye and winked at them. They giggled some more, and as my pets and I walked away I could hear them talk about me, but not in an unflattering way.

That night I asked my lover Gillian about Sherlock. “Darling, who is Sherlock and why does he not have sheets? Does he sleep on the ground or in a hammock? Why would young girls be speaking of such a person?”

Gillian smiled and kissed me. “I love you Vlad but…”

“Gillian dear, I was sealed in a crypt for three hundred years. I am still learning the strange language and customs of modern life,” I said to her.

“Vlad, Sherlock Holmes is a fictional detective. The first story about him came out in 1887. You were still locked in the crypt. Sherlock’s adventures became extremely popular, and his character, and versions of the character are still popular. The term is No Shit Sherlock.

“Does he not poop like most people?”

“Yes, he poops. I assume he poops. It isn’t covered in the stories. The term No Shit Sherlock is used when somebody says something incredibly obvious.”

“Like I say being locked in a crypt is a bad thing. Then you say No Shit Sherlock.”

“Exactly Vlad.”

“Do not say I am not learning anything.”

Then she kissed me again. And again. And again.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I went to a pub where I am known and liked. I do this so that I can get blood with ease. I am not one of those vampires who likes to crawl through windows. I would rather have a glass of wine and talk with my dinner companions a bit.

The bartender is a woman named Cassie. We talked for a while then she noticed my satchel.

“Oh my goodness. You brought your cat tonight. Bring her out,” said Cassie.

I took the purring cat out of the bag. Cassie said we were cute. Always cute. My world is nothing but cute. Yet, I am happy when Cassie and my cat are happy. After many women and men came over to pet the cat and call it cute, the cat crawled back into the bag and fell asleep. I visited with Cassie more. She told me about her graduate studies. She is brilliant.

Then a man sits down next to me. “Vlad. You are Vlad.”

I look at him. He is tall and thin, with dark wavy hair pulled back into a tail like the teenage girls who live on my street. His brown eyes are hidden behind large black framed glasses. The teenage girls might find him attractive. I find him to be what they call a hot mess.

“Yes,” I say. “My name is Vlad. What is your name, and how do you know mine?”

He grins, a wide grin with perfect straight white teeth. “I know you’re a vampire Vlad.”

“Cute maybe,” I say. “A vampire, I do not think so.”

“I was told on good authority that you know where the high counsel of the vampires meet. I hear you used to be their king.”

“You are mad,” I told him.

I walked out to the street. He followed me and called out after me. “Vlad, I’m not a vampire hunter. I’m a scientist. I’m a journalist. I want to know the truth.”

I turned around to face him. “You seek the truth do you Kyle Gunner? That is your name. Yes, you seek parlor tricks so I just gave you one. You are excited and thrilled that I have stopped. Let me answer your question. There is no high council of vampires. That is, what do they call it, a plot device, a fictional bit of grandness to try to explain things you do not understand.”

He looked disappointed and puzzled. I continued to speak.

“Be a scientist Kyle Gunner and get the facts, if that is facts that you seek. Not alternate facts, but real facts.” He stood transformed so I continued to speak. “The facts are that if you speak out people will believe you to be insane. I advise you not go that route. Do not make memes of me either. No memes. I know you are recording this on your tiny magic telephone.” I held up my hand. “Now you are not recording me and it has all been deleted. I will tell you another thing Kyle Gunner. The reason we do not always show up in photographs is because we do not want to. It is the same reason paint flakes off of canvas and ink drawn to the likeness of a vampire fades on paper. It is because we do not want to be seen. Good night Kyle Gunner. Be thankful I was generous and charitable to you tonight. I may not be next time. One more word of advice. You are a hot mess. You need to do something about that.”

Then my cat put her head out of the bag and said, “Maaaaoooo.”

“That’s a cat. You have a cat in your man-bag,” said Kyle Gunner.

Then I said, “No shit Sherlock. Of course she is a cat. And this is a satchel, not a man-bag.” Then I snarled at him with my fangs and almost stopped his heart from fear.

I left him standing alone in the dark as other vampires watched, and waited from the shadows.

Then I heard one of the vampire women whisper to her friend, “Oh my God,  Vlad is sooooo cute.”

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I stand outside under the full moon watching the bats play at night. A large owl flies by. I hear a mocking bird call in the night. The wind blows gently and dances through my hair. Gillian comes behind me and puts her arms around me, then rests her head on the back of my shoulder.

For all of the confusion there are constants. I am in love, and I am cute. Those are two things which I am not sure I will ever understand.

~ Vlad

This is the 30th Vampire Diary Post. For more of Vlad’s Vampire Diary (from the beginning) CLICK HERE.

 

 

 

Better Than Yourself

It is difficult, as a mother, for me to teach my children to despise those who embrace ignorance, hate, and the cult of narcissism, when most of our elected leaders, including the highest office, gladly embody all of those principles.

They tell me, “Mom, it will be alright. We’ll be fine. Look where we live. We aren’t like them. We never will be.”

As a parent I have embraced so much of our culture, much of which my children have brought into my world. Music, art, literature, and new ways of thinking. I’ve seen my children embrace diversity in ways nobody could have imagined when I was a child. I’ve seen my children go out into the world with open minds, and skeptical caution that keeps their eyes open.

While I seethe with anger, my children look for solutions. They look forward and beyond my fears and frustrations.

Raise your child to be better than yourself. Raise your child to be braver, smarter, and kinder than yourself. Raise your child to embrace the challenge. Forget your own personal failures and embrace the possibilities that your child sees. Remember that anything IS possible.

We teach our children, and in turn they will teach us.

It will be good.

It is good.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday: Dawn of the Undead (a very short Vampire story)

Dawn of the Undead

It had been a long night of love and blood and fun. So many Halloween parties. It was a good night to be a Vampire.

Jon pulled up to his house and sat in the driveway for a few minutes as he checked his messages. The sky grew lighter in the distance. Soon the sun would be up and he’d be in bed, shutters closed, dreaming sweet dreams of the night skies and warm women with long necks.

As he stepped out of the car something grabbed him and slammed him down in the driveway. Flat on his back he looked up into the face of a Vampire Hunter. Damn it.

“We’re going to hold you here until the sun comes up and you fry,” said a man dressed in black.

“Honestly Dude you’re going to have to cut out my heart or cut my head off to kill me. i guess you could burn me to a crisp but that takes forever. You might want to reconsider. Come on in and we’ll talk about this over a beer or something…” Jon was trying to stall them. The sun wasn’t going to hurt him much.

Turning his head Jon could see the thin ribbon of pink coming up over the hills. Dawn. It was his best hour. It was the time he’d write his best work. It was the time he’d relax and gather his thoughts. It is his time and they were not going to take it from him.

“Guys, I have a deadline on an article for Vampire Review. I have to get it done this morning. You’re making a mistake.”

The Vampire Hunters raised their knives.

A few hours later the sun was in the sky, the birds singing, squirrels ran through the trees. Jon took off his work gloves and put away his shovels. This wasn’t the way he’d planned on spending his morning, but when you’re a Vampire… sometimes you have to face the sun and do what you have to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From ghoulies and ghosties

And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday at Vampiremaman.com

Short Story Sunday at Vampiremaman.com

Vampire Diary: Dye Vampire Dye

Dear Diary,

I heard a knock upon my door. I was not expecting a visitor.

Upon my threshold stood my neighbor, the teenager Kylee. In her hand was a large padded envelope. She smiled.

Then she spoke in her odd way, as if all statements are questions. “This was in our mailbox. Vampire King? You’re too cute to be a vampire.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow.

On the envelope was written, Vlad, Vampire King. Then the address of my home. The sender had the sanity not to write Vlad’s Castle or other such outdated nonsense.

“It is an endearment,” I said as I took the envelope.

“I was thinking more of maybe a Cosplay thing.”

I just smiled slightly to be polite and not seem ignorant. I do not know what this Cosplay thing is.

How can one be too cute to be Vampire King? I still do not understand this cute. Cute can mean power because all living humans are drawn to cute. Living humans are drawn to me as well through my seductive powers as a vampire but I do not understand why being such as a baby or kitten would make women think of me.

“Too cute?” I asked the girl. “How is one too cute?”

She laughed in that unapologetic way teenage girls of this century laugh. “You’re all honey blonde, and that dimple is adorable.”

Adorable. Now the Vampire King is adorable. I am constantly confused by these people.

The girl Kylee laughed out loud again and left to her own home.

I need blood. And aspirin.

~ Vlad

 

———————-

 

Dear Diary,

I will not dye my hair black to become a serious vampire. The thought crossed my mind for a brief second. Maybe an hour or two. What is wrong with me? I used to rule an empire and now my biggest concern is Clairol or L’Oreal.  I will remain cute, along with my cats.

~ Vlad

 

——————————

 

Dear Diary,

I looked up the definition of adorable.

a·dor·a·ble
əˈdôrəb(ə)l/
adjective
inspiring great affection; delightful; charming.
“she looked just adorable”
synonyms: cute, lovable, appealing, charming, cuddly, sweet, enchanting, bewitching, captivating, engaging, endearing, dear, darling, delightful, lovely, beautiful, attractive, gorgeous, winsome, winning, fetching.

I can accept captivating, attractive, gorgeous, and enchanting. Those descriptions are true of me. I can accept beautiful. I may even be fetching, though I do not know if fetching can apply to one who is male. I am not winsome or cuddly. I am sexually appealing. No woman, or man if I wish, could resist my seduction, but I am not cuddly. Cuddly. No. This English language and these people make my head spin. If I had more blood in my body I would be on the floor with the brain whirling sickness.

I opened the envelope marked Vampire King and reviewed the contents once again. I have reviewed these contents many times over the past two days. I think of what Kylee said to me.

Cosplay. First I thought it was a band of musicians but that would be Coldplay. I do not know what that means, but it is not the same thing as Cosplay. I heard them sing their songs when I turned on the radio in my car. It was not to, how do they say, to my taste.

Then I thought of Cosplay. I asked my lover Gillian who is as old as I am but has lived longer in this modern world in which I have found myself. It is when grown people dress up like imaginary people, but it is not a masquerade or the holiday they call Halloween. I do not understand why they do this. Why would a person dress as something they are not?

Then I looked at the contents of the envelope again.

Inside was a note, along with a handkerchief of old silk which was falling apart to the touch. The lace edges were as delicate as morning spider webs, or the hair of an infant. A once red stain turned brown was on the corner. The letter V was embroidered on the corner.  That was once mine, a little over three hundred years ago. It was taken from me in the year 1715.

In the envelope was also a lock of hair, honey gold, tied with a black silk ribbon. It was mine, taken from my head. Unlike men of warm blood, most Vampires refused to wear wigs. I only wore my own hair, long and curled around my shoulders and down my back. I had the blood of others but I would not have their hair. Maybe one might call that cute, but I do not think so.

The note was rude and unclear.

 

Vlad, Vampire King,
We know where you are. Beware. You shall not rule again.
from, The Unknown Forces

 

This letter is what the teenage girl Kylee and her teenage friends would call bull-crap. Kylee would have said, “what a douche.”

The Unknown Forces. Who are these bull-crap douches? How dare they take my dirty laundry and hair and send it to me in an envelope. How dare they send veiled threats to me.

I no longer have my castle or army, but I have cats, and I have access to the power of teenagers, and I am cute.

~ Vlad

 


 

Dear Diary,

Those who send the envelope will be found. Those who sent the envelope will be taken care of. Or perhaps I will make them wait. I will not react. I will not do what they expect. I will not be a prisoner of their veiled threats.

With the moonlight through the window Gillian runs her hand through my golden hair. I gently push her onto the pillows and kiss her lips, flushed red with fresh blood in her veins and my attentions.

I have no worries this night. Tonight I do not miss being Vampire King, for I am glad to have Gillian capture my heart and keep me prisoner of her love.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Click here for all of Vlad’s Vampire Diary entries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being a Vampire in a Political World

Last week I took a bunch of teens to see Bernie Sanders. Yes, Feel the Bern and all that. Teens love him. One girl kept yelling “Grandpa!”

We waited for three hours in the sun. We listened to bands. My child leaned into me as we sat on the grass, unembarrassed by her mother. The other kids were fine with my presence. Other young people were also there with their parents, waiting for the old man with the white hair and passionate voice.

Two middle-aged women with gray hair, long flowing skirts, and no bras danced the dance of white girl youth with memories of a skinny young man who made love to them in a tent, and too much pot. Other middle-aged women, with perfect blonde highlights, in slacks and blouses watched over their teens, with the just got off work look and fierce passion in their eyes for their young adult children.

I tried to count all of the Secret Service men but there were too many. I know there were hidden ones in the crowd, but there were also the men in suits who make themselves obvious and watch everyone.

Bands played. Soulful singers with voices that sang gospel, blues, and punk pop. A young man, originally from Korea, played the Spar Spangled Banner on a violin, while his Black friend played percussion. Everyone sang along, including the solemn Muslim girls in their headscarves and long-sleeved shirts.

I had to smile. The crowd of 20,000 was as diverse as it could be, from the palest of pale, like summer ice, to the dark color of the midnight sky, but then again, I live in probably the most diverse county in the United States. People were young and old. It was an equal mix of male and female. I was encouraged by the number of young men there. Seriously, it seems that all too often young men don’t show up at “things” these days as much as they should. Anyway, it was diverse. But to us that is normal. And that doesn’t even include the section of the population I belong to. And you know we’re never included in the statistics.

Over the year my children discuss why we’re not “out.” Because we would be slaughtered. We all know that.

The old Jewish man would listen to us with interest. Then I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe he’d just let us be. But could he protect us from the extremist? The loud man with the ugly hair and ugly attitude would have us immediately put to death. The woman would listen then come up with a complex solution to something only regular people think could be a problem. Or she could put out the word that we’re safe and to be ignored. We could only hope. Hollywood types and wanna bees would say they know us well, even though they don’t. The hard-line holy rollers who give my Christian friends a bad name would pee their pants.

I try not to delve into politics this election because, frankly, it makes me sick to see what is happening. And of course by the time the primaries come to California it is always too late for us to have a choice. Then again, there is always a choice.

It was good to see so many people of all walks of life, all colors, and all ages, gathering together in a peaceful and positive manner. Seriously, the good vibes were intense.

I posted this on one of my social media pages:

Last night I joined some young people in my life, and almost 20,000 others to attend the Bernie Sanders Rally in Sacramento. No matter who you choose to like or follow, it is important to check out your options, listen to all sides, research, learn, and listen. This was also a great opportunity for the teens to see how our process works. They saw the press, the Secret Service officers, and people from all parts of our community. They saw a calm and well behaved crowd. It wasn’t like what they see in the news. It wasn’t what they see in the movies. It was real life and pretty normal. They saw a speaker who running for president – not an everyday event. If you have kids talk to them about current events, the election, and our world. Also listen to them.You might learn something – about them and about yourself. And finally, vote for who you want. That is your right. Just vote. I stress to the young folks I know that people in other parts of the world risk their lives, risk jail, and risk everything for the right to vote. Don’t take it for granted.

Don’t take anything for granted. Don’t take for granted that there will be peace. Don’t take for granted that you will not be hated for your beliefs by blind followers of ignorance. Don’t take your freedom to say, or write what you feel, and what you believe in for granted.

Haters are going to hate. It has been a while but I’ve had haters come after me about Vampire stuff. Yes, they’d waste their time on that. Obviously haters never read Green Eggs and Ham, or much of anything. Don’t be fooled. Haters come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and levels of education, and economic status.

No matter who you you choose to support, there is no excuse for bad behavior (including party crashing, nasty phone calling, and other assholery.) Make sure you tell your kids that.

I’d like to say as part of the paranormal community who lives in the shadows that I could rally my peeps together and we could save the world. Unfortunately we can’t. What we can do is vote, and help change things one baby step at a time. You can do the same.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

                            ~ Martin Niemöller

 

Vampire Diary: Eat me up

Dear Diary,

This evening I went to gather my mail at the box at the end of my street. The cats followed me as they always do. In one of the yard I could hear two of my female neighbors. They have no idea that I can hear their conversation.

The one called Karen said, “Vlad is absolutely delicious. I could eat him up.”

The one called Barbara said, “I know. He is so cute.”

The one called Heather who has golden hair and is extremely pregnant just laughed in that mysterious joyful way women laugh. No male has ever understood THAT laugh.

Eat me up. I do not understand anymore than I understand exactly what they mean by cute. But I will try to understand.

Cats are cute. Babies are cute. I am cute. Yet, they also have called me sexy, which I now know means their loins ache to be with me. References to eating me are disturbing, even to a Vampire.

I know that cats and babies are cute but not sexy. But a man with a cat or a baby is sexy. I have two cats. I do not wish to have a baby.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I look in the mirror at a dim reflection. As if in a dream I see my reflection. Blue eyes that turn to gray. Golden hair. I see a face that is considered cute. I know I am handsome, and in the relm of beautiful, but this term cute is something I still cannot wrap my brain around. On my chest is a scar near my heart. It is the only mark on my otherwise perfect body.

Usually in Vampires, such as myself, wounds heal and there are no scars. The cause of my scar was no ordinary event.

The year was 1615.

Then all was dark. When I awoke I found myself sealed in the tight walls of a crypt. I could smell the putrefying bodies around me. Through the dark I could see the marble of the walls of my prison. I could not move. The pain in my chest was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

My foes had stabbed me with a stake of rowen wood. A crufix of silver had been placed around my neck. A brand in the shape of a cross had been burned into my forehead. Many of my bones had been broken. Then I fell into a deep sleep of the undead. The stake was cursed with curses of the damned so the scar will always be with me.

I awoke to the sound of a familiar voice calling my name. Then the sound of chisels and hammers. I could not move. The fog of sleep was still upon me. A cold hand touched my face.

I heard a cool familiar voice. “My love. Vlad, I thought I had lost you forever.”

Opening my eyes was no easy task. Before me was my love Gillian, as beautiful as always, but she had changed. Her auburn curls were straight, and loose around her shoulders. She wore a simple black shirt and pants that clung to her legs, and shoes without tops that were held on with her toes. Her toe nails and fingernails were painted purple. What madness was this? But I could not yet speak.

Then from my chest she pulled the stake. I could breath again. I smiled at her and asked if she still wanted to see the Sun King. She frowned.

“Vlad,” she said, “this is the year 2015.”

The shock to my system almost put me into a coma again.

Fortunately my fortunes were saved. Unfortunately my home, my castle, and my army was gone. I found myself in an English crypt, with my lover telling me we were going to fly to California. I did not know California. Fly? I had no idea. I had NO idea. I assumed by fly that she meant flee. Then we get into a car and drive without horses, THEN we go to an airport and get on an airplane. My exterior is calm, but inside I am both amazed and confused.

In 1615 I was attacked by men in a world where the greatest technology was the theories and discoveries of Galileo Galilei, and somewhere in there someone invented the first microscope. Then I wake in a world where people fly, and communicate through tiny boxes rather than speak to each other.

Imagine my confusion. I am not longer the Vampire King. I am Vlad, the cute guy. I am still attempting to adjust to this aspect of my existence.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I came from a dark place. Now I look out upon orange trees. Oranges. I told the children in the neighborhood to come pick them and bring the fruit home to their families. Oh the life of the Vampire King giving out food to his people. Sigh. I used to rule a kingdom and lead an army. Now I am the cute guy with the great oranges.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight Gillian touched the scar on my chest with her cold fingers, then kissed it with her cold lips.

“When they stabbed you in the heart my love, they also stabbed me in the heart,” she said to me.

“I do not know any longer where I stand in the world,” I told her, “but I know where I stand with you. That is all that matters right now.” Then we made love only as cold undead Vampires can.

I do not tell Gillian my inner thoughts of perhaps once more becoming the Vampire King. I dream of building an empire but how can I do that surrounded by women like Karen, Heather, and Barbara who think I am cute?

They call me. They need me. That is my cats. They are calling. Tomorrow I will plan how to build my Vampire army. Now I must feed the cats and try to figure out what to bring to Heather’s baby shower. Technology I can figure out. Building an empire I can figure out. Modern women and cats – I will never figure them out.

~ Vlad