Short Story Sunday: Leaving Victor

A new Tangled Tale for October 13, 2019 from Juliette aka Vampire Maman.

Leaving Victor

The Creature watched as the figure in the large overcoat and hat came through the door. The man walked with a slight limp. He smiled at The Creature as he took off his coat and hung it on a peg.

“Igor, you back. Doctor left,” said The Creature.

“Gone for three days. That gives us plenty of time,” said the man with the limp as he took off his hat and shook out his hair.

“Nice do,” said The Creature. “Igor look good.”

“I needed something different.”

“You look like hipster. Short sides. Longer top. Igor look stylish.”

“It isn’t Igor anymore. It never was Igor,” said the man.

“No Igor?”

“Victor called me Igor. It was a derogatory term due to my handicap.” Then he reached around and pulled a pillow out of the back of his shirt. “I won’t be needing this anymore.”

“You straight,” said The Creature.

“Physical therapy. Now I just have to use a cane when I’m on uneven surfaces. But listen, my name is, my real name, is Isidore Rassioli. Some of my friends call me Izzy.”

“Izzydore. I like.”

“You need a name too. That damn Victor didn’t even give you a name. What do you want to be called?”

“Don’t know. Never think I could have name.”

“Well I have.” Isidore pulled out an envelope and set it in front of The Creature. “You are now Corbin Jones. Look here. You now have a birth certificate, and a passport.”

“Corbin. Middle?”

“Andrew,”

“Sound good. I like. Why all this?”

“Because, my dear Corbin, it is time for us to leave. Our servitude is over. For years I toiled under Dr. Victor Frankenstein as his assistant. I did all of the research. I formulated the numbers. I came up with the key ideas, theories, and every thesis. I even wrote his lecture notes. The only reason he has tenure at the university is because of me. All the while he called me Igor and took advantage of my lack of confidence. Well no more. I am not ugly. I am not stupid. I am not a cripple.”

“Looking good Isidore. You smart. I always say that.”

“And so are you Corbin. So are you.

“Passport say American. Why?”

“Because dear Corbin you are a man of an astoundingly diverse heritage. Your body is Italian, built like Michelangelo’s David. Unfortunately the first owner was crushed in an automobile accident. Fortunately we were able to find a perfect fit for a new right arm and shoulder from a murdered Ethiopian gun smuggler. Your left brain is Irish Catholic and your right brain is Ashkenazi Jew. Your head is generic Caucasian, from an American who lost it to an unfortunate run in with a machete. You look like of like Chris Evans, you know, Captain America, sort of but I think better looking. Your ears don’t match, but nobody looks at ears unless they’re unusually large, and yours aren’t.”

“What about her?” Corbin asked, looking over at a closed door.

“The woman? Her body is from a woman who was of English, Welsh, and German decent. She was involved in an unfortunate industrial accident that took off the top of her head. Her scalp and brain are Korean. I’m not sure where those came from. Her heart is First Nation Canadian. Jesus Christ, I can’t make this stuff up. The two of you are true citizens of the world.”

From behind the closed door came a woman. She was striking with one brown eye and one hazel eye. Her long black hair was pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her hair. She wore jeans and an oversized sweater the color of the evening sky.

“Izzy. Did you get my papers?” Asked the woman.

“I did. Here you go Rochelle.”

“Oh my goodness it is good to hear my name. Rochelle. Wow.”

She opened her envelope and looked down upon the birth certificate. Rochelle Patti Smith. She’d picked out the name herself. Her own name. Not Eve or Lilith as Victor wanted to call her, but Rochelle. Patti Smith was after her favorite musician. Rochelle was just because she’s always liked the name somewhere in her distant past that she couldn’t quite remember.

“I have my bag packed,” said Rochelle.

“Good,” said Isidore.

“Where we go?” Corbin asked.

“Orange County, California, the United States of America. I got a job teaching at the Biology Department at UC Irvine.”

“UC?” Corbin asked.

“University of California,” said Isidore. “I have my PhD. This is a great opportunity. Plus we’re not going to be alone. My brothers Sal and Perry own a body shop in Long Beach.”

“They make people too?” Rochelle asked.

“No, cars. They repair cars. Automobiles.”

Six Years Later

Corbin, Rochelle, and Isidore lived in a house walking distance from the beach. It was a good life.

Corbin obtained his GED, took two years at the Community College and got into California State University Long Beach majoring in Political Science. With the help of a speech therapist he now spoke without a trace of hesitation. His girlfriend owned a surf shop and had taught him how to swim.

Rochelle was now in Law School at UC Irvine. She dated a movie producer.

Isidore was a popular teacher. Often he’d walk the beach with his dogs Ramble and Corky, and ponder the meaning of life. Not so much his life, but life in general.

He’d never even thought of making any more conglomerates of reanimated body parts and calling them human beings. Corbin and Rochelle were enough. They were miracles who’d been rescued from spending their new lives shut up in a laboratory to be poked and prodded. Now they were free. Maybe they even had souls. God knows they lived their lives like they did.

Victor had approached Rochelle a few years back, like an abusive stalker waiting to bring his woman back where she belonged. She told him that she’d call the police if he ever approached her again.

Victor had told her, “You ungrateful sewed together bitch. I made you. You belong to me.”

Rochelle said, “No Victor, I made me. I made the women I am today.”

A small note on the online news sites stated that the body of famous biologist Dr. Victor Frankenstein had been washed up on a beach just south of Santa Barbara. Corbin, Rochelle, and Isidore never talked about it. They didn’t need to.

The thought of Rochelle standing up for herself made Isidore smile. He wanted that for all of his students. It had taken years for him to stand up for himself.

As he watched the sunset over the Pacific Ocean a peace settled over Isidore.

“Come on boys,” he called to his dogs. Then he stood up straight and planted his cane in the sand. “I’m done with crutches my dear dogs. Let’s go home.”

~ end

Tangled Tales

 

 

 

 

 

Art (an extremely short Vampire story)

Counting down to Halloween!

Tangled Tales

Art (an extremely short Vampire story)

He never tried of looking at the Thomas Hill painting of Yosemite. Behind him he could hear the museum docent talking about the Guilded Age and the massive woodwork behind him.

As a child he’d come here for musical events, and even roller skating. Not exactly here, the new wing of the museum opened in 2010. He’d been in the original building and even in the private residence next door.

When you’re born in 1957 and still around in 2018 sometimes time seems to stand still.

A woman came up next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He kissed her cheek.

“You look like a woman in a portrait I just saw,” he said.

“I am the woman in the portrait you saw,” she said. It was a long running joke with them.

“Glad you could make it Mom.”

“So am I. We need to do this more often.”

“October is almost here.”

“Indeed. Four of my children have birthday’s this month.”

“And Halloween.”

She gave a little snort. “It was easier to be a Vampire before Halloween was such a big deal.”

“Maybe.”

They roamed the galleries looking at both familiar and new art pieces.

She took her son’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I loved those times, when everything here was new. It was a new city. You were all children. So much was happening. I miss people, but I look forward. I don’t dwell on the past. That keeps us young. If you keep looking towards the future and live in the present it will keep you from being a Halloween Vampire. I shutter to think that any of my kids will be musty old beings who don’t have enough sense to keep their fangs in and blood off of their chins.”

“You’ll never have to worry about that,” said her son. “But I know what you mean.”

As they walked along they could see other in contemplation looking at the art, which like them, was timeless.

~ end

crocker-art-museum

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday: Friends Forever

“My son is living a nightmare no child, nobody should ever have to deal with.”

Dr. Michael Trent spoke with the police for God knows how many times in the past three months. This time it had been about Christopher’s death. He ran his hand through his hair and sent the detectives out the front door of his home. Upstairs Hunter lay in bed in a state between life and death, sanity and insanity, between the real work and a nightmare.

It had been just another camping trip. The five boys had been camping in the woods on the edge of town for years – since they were in 6th grade. They were good kids. The parents never had to worry about them getting into trouble.

On a warm summer night, when they were all sixteen and seventeen, they camped together for the last time.

After they’d all climbed into their sleeping bags, after a night of hotdogs, smores, a few swiped beers, and a lot of talk about school, girls, and their plans after graduation, it happened.

Hunter, Christopher, Dylan, Kyle and Sam. Best friends forever. They’d always be with each other. Always.

While asleep under the stars something grabbed Hunter’s sleeping bag and dragged him into the woods. The other boys could hear the trashing, the crunching, the tearing, and the screams.

Something huge, like a shadow, like a bear, or as one of the boys put it “The Hulk”, stood over Hunter and looked from the darkness with glowing dark eyes. It could have been anything.

Hunter’s once handsome face was an unrecognizable bloody pulp. His left arm was mangled and almost fleshless. It was a miracle that the was alive.

That was in July.

On the night of August 1st Dylan was walking home through the park they’d all played in as kids. He stopped to sit on a swing, thinking about what had happened three weeks before. He never thought of himself as vain, but his friends joked he looked like an Italian Model. Poor Hunter. Tears flowed down his face.

Then mid thought Dylan was slammed to the ground by an unknown force. His head was held as if in a vice. Pain like no other exploded his entire being as someone, something  ripped off his entire lower jaw. In the morning his mutilated body was found by a woman walking her dog. She never slept easy again.

A few weeks later Kyle was at the grocery store picking up flour for his mom. She was making him a birthday cake. She knew he was in mourning for his best friend but she wanted him to have the cake. Sam and Christopher would be there.

Kyle never made it home. He was slammed against his car and an unknown thing, a creature, something too violent to be a man, took his arm. It tried to get at his face but was scared off with the yelling of other grocery store patrons.

By then nobody in town let their teenagers out at night. On a Wednesday night Sam took the garbage out to the street. The creature jumped him and took his scalp. Then it took his heart. The scalp was never found. His heart was found in the garbage can, still warm.

As for Christopher, poor Christopher, was home alone while his parents were out at a party. It drained his blood. His face, like Hunter’s was mangled. The only things left were his brown eyes and his right ear. The neighbors called the police when the two family dogs would stop howling.

After the death of Christopher the attacks stopped. The creature or whatever it was had left. Still the threat of violence and unknown horrors lingered over the town.

Two years later Kyle started his first year of college. He’d decided to go to the local Community College for two years and then transfer to UC Irvine to study medicine, or maybe political science. He liked the beach and sunshine. It would be a good school for him. Getting along with one arm wasn’t that bad. It was the nightmares that paralyzed him.

Hunter was accepted to Princeton. It was on the other side of the country and away from his memories. He’d always be in touch with Kyle. They’d always be friends.

As he walked across campus girls smiled at him and approached him. Other young men shook his hand and gave him bro hugs. He’d smile and was thankful to be alive. The scars were fading, thanks to his dad’s skills as a plastic surgeon. Actually, he looked good. He looked different but kind of handsome he thought.

He missed his friends but they’d always be with him. Christopher’s ear and nose, Kyle’s left arm, Dylan’s jaw, and Sam’s thick brown hair.

Winter came and the memories of the horror was starting to fade. Dr. Trent was hanging Christmas lights, humming Jungle Bells. He heard something in the bushes. Darn it, the cat must have gotten out. He glanced over and called the cat’s name. It was the last thing he ever did.

~ end

Tangled Tales

Looking for more Horror to get you into the Halloween spirit? Check out the three WPaD (Writers, Poets, and Deviants) horror anthologies. All are available on Amazon, B&N, Kobe and other fine online book sellers. Proceeds go to help support our fellow writers with MS (multiple sclerosis) through research and support organizations. I am in awe of my fellow writers included in these books (seriously in awe.)

Halloween is almost here so keep checking back for more scary stories, and fun Halloween posts.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday: Small Talk

Tangled Tales

Small Talk

The woman with the Mamie Eisenhower bangs and Cleopatra eye liner took a sip of sparkling wine and said, “I think they should all go to jail. Every single one of them.”

Max glanced over and smiled. Her high child-like voice made his head hurt. He knew she’d cultivated that sound for years. What the fuck was wrong with some people? She smiled back at him and winked.

Walking though the room he picked up bits and pieces of conversations. Always the charmer, he’d smile and blink his eyes one time in a way that would seduce the dead. Well, the living too. He smiled at his own joke.

Just two hours before he’d been with Mehitabel, his hands in her hair, his mouth on hers, her legs around…

“Max?”

He turned at the sound of his name.

“Max, so glad you could make it. You seemed deep in thought. Hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“You’d never disturb me Marc.” Max gave his old friend a one armed bro-hug.

“So when is the wedding?”

“I’m not sure. We’re still working on it.”

“Don’t take too my man long or she’ll run.”

It had been almost two years since Max asked Mehitabel to marry him. Then again why hurry? He’d been involved with her on and off for the past one hundred and forty nine years, since she was twenty and he was twenty one. A few more years wouldn’t make a difference.

Max spoke with Marc a bit more and moved on towards the bar. He glanced over to where Tim Peoples stood surrounded by an audience.

“Oh my god, Max,” said a woman, breaking herself away from Tim’s group. “How are you?” She kissed him on the cheek. He gave her a hug and a dazzling Max smile.

“Great. How are you Lydia?” He hoped it was Lydia. It could have been Linda.

“Good. How about this house? Fantastic isn’t it.”

“Beautiful,” said Max. “I need to find out who their interior designer is.” He couldn’t believe those words just came out of his mouth.

“If I find out I’ll let you know,” said Lydia, then she squeezed his arm and moved on.

“Max,” Tim called out. “Come over here.”

Max cringed inside but smiled. “Hey, Tim. Good to see you.”

Tim leaned inclose to Max, “Check out the ass on that one,” he said as he pointed out a woman in a tight green dress. “That is my goal for tonight. Hey, did you hear about my new car?” Tim showed a picture on his smart phone to Max.  “Eighty Thousand dollars worth of pure testosterone. What are you driving these days? Still wasting your time in that truck?”

Max’s friend Jayne took his arm. “Sorry Tim, I have to borrow Max for a bit.” She led Max away from the group. “Women used to find Tim attractive but not much anymore.”

“Being a douche takes the finish right off of those rose colored goggles,” said Max.

“Indeed it does. Where’s my girl tonight?”

“Mehitable? Um, she’ll might be here in a bit. She said she had a few things to take care of first.”

“She hates these things.”

“So do I.”

“Why’d you come then?”

“Had to. It was expected. If I didn’t show it would be noticed.”

Jayne shrugged. So far she was the only other Vampire there. Later there might be more. Max hoped there would be more. He hated events where he couldn’t be himself. Being charming was never a problem, it just wasn’t always enjoyable.

At the bar Max got a Martini that was all gin and an olive. Jayne ordered a Bloody Mary with an extra shot of vodka.

The two old friends scanned the room.

“So what do you think?” Max asked. “You hungry?”

“What? Dinner?”

“Sure. Dinner. I don’t think Mehitabel is going to show. We have to eat somewhere.”

“Let’s go somewhere else,” said Jayne. “The menu here is kind of boring.”

“Indeed it is,” said Max, downing his drink. “Let’s go.”

Jayne smiled and took his arm, as they went out into the night and away from a night of endless small talk.

~ end

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: Peaches

Margaret Mary Jones talked about leaving her home planet on a ship full of sixty other travelers looking for another place to call home.

Justin had a hard time getting his mind around the whole concept. He could never imagine willingly getting into a giant tin can and blasting off into the unknown.

Everyone else on board had died. When he first entered the ship it reminded him of the time his mom’s batch of peach preserves had gone bad and all of the jars turned a nasty color of brownish gray, and the lids popped out due to the toxic bubbling inside. Peaches. These were people. He’d never get the images out of his head.

Margaret Mary Jones was a journalist and an artist. She had all of the scientific facts down. She knew the social implications of the actions of her former leaders. She believed, or at least wanted to believe what she was told by her leaders, and the scientists of her planet. She even started to listen to the religious leaders who for a rare moment supported her views.

She’d asked Justin to call her Maggie. It was less formal than Margaret Mary. It fit more with the brown haired woman who sat on his porch looking out over the pine trees and lake behind his cabin. She’d spend hours watching the birds and writing in her notebooks. He’d gotten her a dozen of the note books, the composition books that high school and college students use, along with colored pens. It made Maggie happy.

Maggie worked with the scientists, the journalists, and the government officials. She freely shared information. Her planet no longer existed so there was nothing at home to protect. That and the fact that she’d come from a toxic, violent place. Everything, including family and friends was gone.

Justin watched her from the cabin as she carefully placed her notebook and pens back into her tote bag. She stood and stretched in the moonlight, then dropped her robe.

“Come swim with me,” Maggie called up to Justin.

The scientist in Justin marveled at her beauty. She was the definition of desire… at first. He watched as she put her feet in the water.

“Come in. It’s lovely,” she called to him.

Two other ships had landed beside Maggie’s. All were full of putrid rotted bodies with the sickening sweet smell of rotted fruit mixed with the smell of putrified flesh. Those ships also had survivors. Two men, and another women. One was a historian. There was also a biologist and another journalists.

The ships had mostly been full of politicians, celebrities, and religious leaders. A total of 1,200 ships had gone out but the four survivors didn’t know what happened to them.

Other than some slight differences the survivors DNA was identical to that of the inhabitants of Justin’s world. Nobody could figure it out. Justin knew the difference, but declined to say. He honestly liked these four strangers. They were witty, kind, and had adapted well to their new planet. He marveled at how well they’d adjusted. But he’d also warned them to be cautious. “Be extremely cautious,” he’d told them.

“Come on,” called Maggie, again from the edge of the lake.

Justin pulled off his clothes, grabbed a towel and went to join her.

Maggie put out her hand and smiled, then laughed, showing her fangs, in the light of the autumn moon.

 

~ End

 

Tangled Tales

This is my first new story for a few weeks, written over a cup of coffee this Sunday morning. More new Tangled Tales to come each Sunday. 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Captured Bride: A weird little story of romance (sort of), personal growth, and Vampires.

Captured Bride: A weird little story of romance (sort of), personal growth, and Vampires.

I was minding my own business, outside tending my herb garden, when someone throws a blanket over my head, hauls me up on a horse and takes me to God only knows where.

After what seemed like forever, combined with a lot of screaming and cursing on my part, we stopped.

When the blanked was taken off I found myself in a hilltop sort of mini castle. It was absolutely beautiful. Standing in front of me was a tall man with golden hair. He certainlly was handsome but I was not in the mood to ponder his good looks.

“What the Hell is going on?” I was in no mood for making all nice.

“You are to be my bride,” he said in a serious voice.

“I don’t think so. You don’t even know me.”

“I have chosen you.”

“Listen up Prince Charming. I might be full of nasty sexually transmitted diseases. I might snore. I might poison your food bit by bit until you can only sit in your chair and drool while I take control of your empire. I might sleep with your brother. I might have stinky feet and fart in bed like an old hound dog.”

“I was tasked as the second son of the Clan Chief to find a bride. I’ve been watching you for a while. You’re perfect.”

“You abducted me.”

“That is our way.”

“Then change your way. Holy cow, you can’t build a marriage on distrust and violence. Get out of your comfort zone and marry a woman who can be your best friend, not just a house keeper and sexual slave.”

“The man must rule the house.”

“Alright, you’re a smart guy or I’m going to assume you’re a smart guy. Listen up. I know some of the things I’m saying sound weird. You’ve been brought up to believe women are subservient and property of the males. It is difficult to let go of old beliefs. Changes is difficult. But so is a bad marriage. Before you speak let me tell you a few more things. In a society where women are equal to men everyone ends up more successful, happier and your children tend to thrive. It is a win-win situation for everyone.”

“Then be my bride and change things.” Then he took my hand and led me to the bed. It was a gorgeous bed and he was totally hot but I did not like where this was going.

He stood before me and started to unbuckle his belt.

“NO NO NO show a girl a little romance,” I yelled. “You can’t just take me like this.”

“Let’s get this over with. You will do as I say.”

“Come closer and I will rip your throat out.”

He grabbed my shoulders to push me down and I grabbed his wrists. He stopped, images of terror filled his brain. I filled him with fear as his eyes locked on mine.

“You’re a witch,” he gasped as he dropped his arms to his side and stepped back.

“No I’m not a witch.” I motioned for him to sit and opened a bottle of wine. “Let’s talk. Do you have a name?”

“Aleric.”

“Good start. I’m…”

“Olivia. I know your name.” Great. He was stalking me.

“Alright Aleric, you have to listen to me. You think you’re some manly man but I’ll end up ripping your throat out if you try to touch me again. Forget all the crap about men and women that you know. We are all equal in the eyes of whatever God you choose to worship or not worship.”

We talked through the night. At first I thought he was dumber than a rock but I believe I got through to him. He returned to the village and married a girl he’d known since childhood. She’d always been considered “forward” and considered trouble by the locals. Aleric had always been in love with her but she was too much like a man. Now he had the courage to take her as his bride.

Years later I visited him. He was the Chief by then. His clan and town was thriving. I found him in a large hall playing ball with his grandchildren. He looked up at me in shock.

“Olivia. No, you must be her daughter or grand daughter.”

“I don’t age Aleric. I wouldn’t have made a good wife because first of all I would have driven you nuts, second because I’m a Vampire. I could have killed you but I saw something good in you. I saw a willingness to change. I saw hope. I’ve watched you over the years. I’m proud of what you’ve done with your life and your clan.”

He looked at me with grim eyes. “So do you want a reward now or do I owe you a favor.”

I smiled. “Not at all. I was just passing through. Listen, I’m not one of those Vampires who lords over a population ruthlessly draining everyone of blood and money. I don’t do that kind of shit. I just wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you. You could have spent the rest of your life being a brainless jerk like all the other men in your village but you married a woman you love and respected her. You built a life together and passed that respect on to your children. Good job Aleric.”

“Did you find love?” His question caught me off guard.

“Kind of sort of. You know, I’m not like you. My heart is kind of a flighty thing. Vampires are like that.”

“I’m sure he is a man with a true heart and a brave soul.”

I smiled then left him to his happy life.

Later that week when I arrived home my tall cool Vampire man was waiting for me. “How was your walk down memory lane my dear?”

“Alright I suppose. Do you think people will always be so stupid?”

He took me in his arms and nuzzled my neck. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out in a couple hundred years. In the meantime, I have a propisition for you.” We spend the rest of the evening in each other’s arms. In fact, we still spend evenings in each other’s arms.

I think about that time now so long ago. Had I been a regular girl I might have ended up as the bride of a second son of a Chief. Or I might have ended up in the arms of a Vampire. I did end up in the arms of a Vampire but that is another story for another day.

~ end

 

Tangled Tales

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

And why yes, you might have seen this story before (2015 and February 2019.)  I’m out and about with all kinds of family and Vampire stuff, but I’ll have new posts in the coming week. xoxoxo