Eleora

Eleora

I asked Eleora what she was reading. “Is it Science Fiction? You don’t read much SciFi,” I said.

“No, I started it but it is one of the most boring books ever written.”

It was one of those books from the late 1950’s with a lot of speculative technology, rocket ships, all male crews, and a lot of serious talk about space. I’m going into space honey. Have fun mopping the floor wearing heels and pearls. 

This was the fifth time Eleora had started reading it. She never remembered starting it before. I can’t figure out why she even picked it up. Maybe she thought it was about the Apollo program, or the films of Georges Méliès.

Eleora meticulous arranges the books in her home by subject. My favorite was when she put Ulysses by James Joyce in the ancient history section.

She and Tellias live out on the old river road among hundreds of acres of fruit trees. They’re old. They’re more than old. They’re ancient. Both are over 2,000 years old but nobody is sure exactly how old. They’re also Vampires. They look like they’re nineteen or twenty years old but they act like their age which is extremely old. By that I mean they ARE old. They have memory issues. Sometimes they have physical issues. They can revert back to simpler times and don’t always keep up. Like a lot of people they isolate themselves as they get older. Sometimes isolation is by choice. Unfortunately sometimes it isn’t.

I’d brought over a couple of bags of books for them to read. Eleora asked me about the books over the next hour no less than five times. That’s ok. I don’t mind.

We sat and talked for another hour. The old dog crawled up on the couch with me and put her head in my lap. A cat was curled up purring in the window sill. We listened to the heavy rain coming down on the roof.

I checked to see if they had enough to eat for the next few days. Tellias told me they were calling Grub Hub. They’d send someone right to your door. I didn’t ask for details. Sometimes it is better not to know.

Even if you can’t see them physically make sure to check in on your friends and family. Even a call, a text, or an email can make all the difference in the world to someone who is feeling the burden of isolation.

Stay safe. Stay calm.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

Staying in with the Ghost

Ghosts.

“You can’t get this,” he tells me.

“I don’t know that,” I said. Vampires never know what might or might not make them sick. We’re usually ok but you never know. Hell, nobody even knows how long we live or who is the oldest among us. Seriously, we don’t know squat about our own existence. On the other hand we seem to know everything about everyone else.

“Werewolves can,” he tells me.

“Tell me something I don’t know. Of course they can get it.”

“We are already dead. Nobody wants that,” says The ghost.

“Is it so bad being a ghost?” I ask.

“It is that bad. It is worse than that bad,” he says not worried about keeping any distance. “I never saw anything like this when I was alive or dead. There are old ghosts who experienced things sort of like this, but it was different back then. They didn’t even use soap or have indoor plumbing. I died in 1986. This is just weird.”

“I know,” I said to Nigel, the Ghost. Nigel isn’t always friendly or polite but he makes some good points now and then.

“So now that everyone is staying in where are Vampires getting their food?” Nigel asked me.

“Here and there. We have our regulars. We get what we need at places like Dave’s Bottle Shop.

“You’re staying in too,” he said in the most accusatory way.

“Yes, we are,” I said. “Even my brother Andy is staying in with his girlfriend. She’s sixty now and not a Vampire. She teaches college in Southern California and her classes are all online now. Andy decided to hunker down with her and help out. He even had a piano brought into her house so he could play while he is down there.”

“She’s my age, or the age I would have been,” said Nigel, who doesn’t look a day over twenty six.

I didn’t say anything. Nigel tends to brood when reminded of what-could-have-been.

“I’m making coffee,” I said. “Would you like some?”

He started to smile, then stopped and just gave me a slight smile. I ground some good beans (Chocolate Fish) and made a few cups in the French Press.

I sipped my coffee, while Nigel put his transparent hands around his cup and took in the smell.

We didn’t say much else. When his coffee grew cold he mouthed the word, “thanks” and vanished in a wisp of blue and purple vapor.

Maybe he’ll be back tomorrow. I don’t know. Nobody knows these days what might happen tomorrow.

Take care. Keep in touch with loved ones. Wash your hands. Keep a safe social distance. Thank your friends on the front line who work in the medical field, retail, law enforcement, EMTs, or other helpers during these weird times. Keep in touch with those who are elderly, need extra help, or are alone. 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

coffee

Coffee with Vampires and Ghosts