Vampire Diary: Bicycle Rides and Other Journeys

Dear Diary,

Tonight I discovered something called an artichoke. It is a vegetable with a heart but it has no blood. I usually have no blood in my heart not unlike an artichoke. I find that extremely amusing.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today I learned how to ride a bicycle. A bicycle is a machine with two large thin wheels, a small seat, pedals, and handle bars. One sits upon this contraption and puts one’s feet upon the two pedals. Then one moves his feet as if running in a circle. The bicycle then propels forward. Balance is not an issue with me because I am a Vampire. That is not completely true about the balance. It took an hour for me to learn. I was out in front of my home at 2:00 a.m. so that there would be no witnesses if I should fall. I like these bicycles. I can ride. I understand I will never forget how.

At dawn I rode my bicycle down to the bicycle trail which runs along the length of the river. I stopped to watch an otter catching fish. As a cool breeze fluttered across me I took off my helmet and shook out my golden hair. Then I took off my shirt and let the breeze surround me like a sweet caress. Then I heard a shout, a scream, and bicycles crashing. Behind me three female bicyclist had run into each other and were now in a pile of bicycles on the ground. I quickly put back on my shirt and went to assist them. There was blood. I could smell it. Alas this was no time to think of food.

I kissed their wounds to make the bleeding stop, as only a Vampire can do. Seriously that is something only a Vampire can do. As I helped the women up and tended to their bicycles I asked them why they had all crashed into each other.

They all said at once, “you happened.”

“I was standing at least ten feet from you on the edge of the water,” I said to them.

“You shook out your hair,” said one woman.

“Then you took off your shirt,” said another one of the women.

“Then the light hit you just right,” said the third woman. “You were too cute.”

“You’re magnificent,” said the first woman.

Then they all made high pitched sighing noises. Together. Every one of them.

I blinked a few times in an attempt to process this information. Of course they were distracted. I am magnificent. I am not sure about cute. Kittens are cute. Ducklings are cute. Babies are cute. I am a Vampire King which is not something to be considered cute. I still do not understand this cute.

After taking many group selfies with me the ladies went on their way. I offered to help but they only blushed and giggled despite their scrapes.

I shall reconsider removing my shirt the next time I stop for a bicycle break.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

The weather is now getting warm. It is much warmer than what I have been used to over the past 675 years. Sometimes I wonder how I got so old. Lucky for me I do not show my age. That would not be cute.

But I digress. The warm air and bicycling made me ravenous. Tonight I had two hipsters with waxed mustaches, three vegans, a middle-aged mom who was more than happy to have me bite her neck, a couple of high school teacher who were out for drinks after work, and a State Senator who was walking through the park trying to sort things out. I am sorry but when Vampires are around there is not time to sort things out.

They are all fine. I never drink to kill.

I feel like, what does my neighbor say, like I just had Thanksgiving Dinner, twice.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

After being held captive, locked in a crypt for three hundred years, then out in this time they call the modern Twenty First Century for four and a half years I still find myself at a loss. I lost three centuries of culture and technology. I might have well have found myself on Mars. Only there is no one on Mars so I would have starved, at least until the first human colony showed up, but that is neither here nor there.

I am in awe of many things but not so naive as to become enslaved by modern technology and culture, or by those who would try to take advantage of me.

But there are others… This modern world is strange indeed, especially for Vampires who have no direction.

Last night a bat flew through my bedroom window and dropped a note on my bed.

“What the fuck,” hissed my love Gillian. She was not amused. We were busy in other activities.

I opened the note and read:

Dear Vampire King,

 Come and honor us in our coven of blood lust and darkness. We honor your reputation as the most powerful Vampire of all. We wish you to share your knowledge and wisdom with us. We want to learn. We follow the tradition of the Vampire.

Gillian grabbed the note. “Freaks. Don’t even bother with them. These guys don’t know the difference between their ass an a hole in the ground.”

My beautiful and gentle love was quite agitated. I am not sure what she meant by asses and holes in the ground but I am sure it was not a compliment.

“What would be the harm with me meeting with these Vampires?”

“They’re idiots Vlad,” she said, getting up and pulling on her pajama pants and a tee shirt.

“Where are you going?” I asked. Where was she going?

“Downstairs. I’m going to watch Narcos,” she said as she grabbed her pillow and left the room.

So much for a passionate romantic evening.

I dressed in jeans and a black shirt then I drove to the address on the bat delivered note. Yes I can drive. I own a car. I was born in the 14th century but I now live in the 21st.

In a storage building, I believe it is called a warehouse but I do not see any Werewolves so that confuses me, I find the Vampires.

I stood in the doorway and said, “I Vlad, King of Vampires have come. I received your invitation.”

They stand there, three men and two women, then jump on the floor and bow with their heads to the ground like bad novices in an ill run convent.

“Stand up,” I tell them.

As they stand I notice their clothing. One is dressed in a black suit and wears a black cape with a red lining. Another is all in black leather with many zippers. I wonder if he has trouble getting dressed. The third man was in black jeans and a black shirt with glitter all over his skin. The sleeves had flaps on the bottom that look like bat wings. One of the women has long black hair down to her waist, and wears a tight low cut black dress. She could hardly walk or keep her breasts inside of the dress. I wonder if I should loan her my knife so she can pick out the side seam. The other woman wears what looks like a giant red rubber band that barely covers her body.

“Oh my God,” said one of the women, “He is sooooo cute.” I did not catch which one said it.

“We are honored and in awe of your presence oh great King of Vampires, Lord of Darkness, we quiver in your sight,” said the man in leather.

“If you pee on the ground like dogs I will leave,” I said to him. My neighbor has a dog who pees when she gets excited to see someone. These Vampires reminded me of that dog. I looked again at their odd clothing. “You did write in the note that this was to be a costume party.”

“We are dressed as proper Vampires,” said the man in the red cape. “I take my inspiration from Dracula. Wasn’t Dracula modeled after you of King of Vampires?”

“No,” I said. “I have read the book. It is fantasy.”

“We take our inspiration from the great Hammer films. Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Vincent Price,” said the man in the red cape.

“Who are those men?” I asked.

“Great horror actors,” said the woman in the red rubber band.

“Who are you fashioned after my dear?” I asked her.

“Vampirella.”

I do not know who this Vampirella is but she has extremely bad and impractical taste in clothing.

“You are all like silly children,” I said. “Let me tell you how to act as a real Vampire least you starve to death or be killed by Vampire Hunters.”

“Van Helsings,” they all whispered.

“He is but a fantasy character in an old book. The real Vampire Hunters can and will kill you. Now gather around and listen,” I told them.

“Are you Vlad the Impaler or related to him?” asked the one in the tight black dress.

I found myself almost rolling my eyes at them. “Have you seen a painting of him? The man is quite unattractive. The man you speak of, who was not a Vampire, was born more than one hundred years after I was. I am not him, nor did he base his life and personal philosophy on me. I do not think he knew I existed and if he had he would have peed all over himself.” I was amused at my joke but the new Vampires just stared at me in awe.

To make them even more impresses, because they are of simple minds, I take out my iPhone and show them pictures.

“See,” I say, “this is Vlad the Impaler. He looks nothing like me. He is what is called rather goofy looking is he not? In the end he was vanquished by his enemies. He was an idiot.”

Unknown

“And look at this one,” I continued. “It is an actor playing a Vampire. Do not tell me you think this is attractive or will get you more blood. If you use these imposters as role models it will only set you up to fail. Nobody want that in their face.”

These new Vampires were unfit to be Vampires but as my friend Randolpho says shit happens. In the old days they would have starved and turned to dust.

For the next three hours I told these Vampires what they should do to be successful. The first item was to change out of their silly clothes. The second was to stop basing their existence off of silly movies. The third was to wipe the blood off of their chins so that they did not look like silly children.

Then I went home. They exhausted me with their questions. I promised to meet with them at a later date. I hope they survive. On the other hand maybe I don’t.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Gillian and Randolpho laughed when I told them about my new followers.

“They will learn and grow and one day be embarrassing to me,” I said.

I think about the old days when I lived in a castle high on a mountain surrounded by wild forests filled with Werewolves, Ghosts, and dangerous creatures.

But then again I think about now. It is strange. Life is always strange when one is undead – when one is a Vampire. Even if one is a cute Vampire who likes to ride his bicycle, among other things.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

This is the 38th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. Click here to read them all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Protecting the Cuteness

Vlad’s Vampire Diary #35, Protecting the Cuteness

 

Dear Diary,

This afternoon I was awakened by the sound of the doorbell.

My neighbor, a woman named Casandra, stood at my door with panic in her eyes.

“Vlad, are you free for a few hours?”

I escaped after being locked up in a crypt for three hundred years, then found out I was no longer Vampire King. Of course I can be free for a few hours.

I smiled, ran my hands through my thick golden hair and said, “Casandra, you look distressed. What can I do for you?”

She told me that her five year old boy, a lad named Lucas had fallen on the playground and broken his arm. I was asked if I could watch her four month old son Trevor. Of course I could. What else was I doing? I am a former Vampire King who has not decided what to do with myself aside from observing this confusing modern world, and writing in my diary.

Cassandra works from her home and only, as she tells me, has part time daycare. Her husband was out of town on business she told me. I have been around babies. I could do this.

I went two houses down and went inside, where Cassandra showed me where all of Trevor’s food, diapers, and other gear was. Modern babies have an overwhelming amount of gear.

Trevor smiled when he saw me. Cassandra gave me a hug, then said, “You’re cold. Do you want me to turn up the heat?”

I told her that I was fine. I did not tell her that I am a Vampire, therefore always cold.

Trevor was in his crib. I held out my hands and he grabbed my index fingers. One in each hand.

“There was a time when a baby boy like you would have been served up on a silver platter by some Vampires. You would have been a delicacy. You are a lucky boy young Trevor,” I said to the tiny child.

He laughed.

I pulled my hands up, Trevor hung on but his head fell back. His tiny neck was unable to support his massive baby head. I put my hand under his head to support it. He laughed. I laughed.

Here we are together, two males, bonding in our cuteness.

He laughed again then looked into my eyes and said “blee eeebub.”

I laughed. “Ahhhh you want me to tell you a story do you? Then you shall have one,” I said to him.

“Dear Trevor. Once upon a time there was a baby. She was cute. More cute than me. More cute than you. She was more cute than a puppy or a kitten. She was, what shall I call it, universal cute. No baby had ever been more precious, at least until you were born.

One night, when her parents were asleep a Vampire came in through the window of their villa and took the cute baby girl. The Vampire was on the way to a party and said to his hose that he would bring an appetizer. It was like that big game, the Super Bowl, where people get together to watch sport and eat and drink until they fall asleep. He put the cute baby upon a large sterling platter, not into a super sized bowl, and took her to the party.

Everyone at the party ran their tongues over their fangs, ready to feast upon the baby. But this baby, this tiny cute baby, who was cute beyond cute, this baby who was almost as cute as you are cute, caught the eye of a handsome Vampire named Wydo. He was a prince. Yes, my young toothless friend, Wydo was a Vampire prince.

Wydo was enchanted with the child, not because she was so very cute, but because he knew she would one day be able to control everyone she saw, including even a Vampire King.

Wydo demanded that dancing dwarfs come into the hall and do gymnastics, and then fighting games for the crowd of Vampires. There were no dwarves, for they had been drained of their blood earlier in the day, so musicians, who were alive, were brought in. Then the Vampires danced. Wydo went into a dark stairwell and summoned Demons to come in the guise of beautiful maidens full of blood and distract the other Vampire.

Then do you know what Wydo did? I bet you do know what he did smart baby Trevor. Wydo wrapped the baby girl in his cloak and stole her away in the darkness of the night.

And did Wydo drink her blood. No he did not. He brought her back to her parents home. Seventeen years later he turned her into a Vampire. Do not be shocked my little one, it was her idea.

Another thing you might not have guessed yet was the fact that Wydo was my grandfather.

Several years later, about fifty years later, she became my first wife. We were both Vampires and of the same age. It seemed like a perfect match. But then she tore out my heart. She stabbed me in the back. She left me. She left me alone. She did not physically tear out my heart. She broke it. Badly, in the worst way a woman can break a man’s heart.”

I stood in the middle of the room bouncing a baby, and thought my heart was going to explode. As empty as my heart was of blood, I felt like it was empty of everything else. It was not a feeling of cute. It was a feeling of pain.

Then the baby Trevor laughed. I laughed and showed him my fangs. He laughed even harder, and so did I. The pain in my heart stopped.

I told him more stories of adventures, with gore and death, and large hungry carnivores animals. As long as Trevor laughed I told him stories of my life.

“Do not marry a bitch,” I said to Trevor. “Make sure she is warm like you, even if she is a Vampire.”

Trevor laughed his cute baby laugh and I was once again  at peace.

A few hours later, after it was dark and I sat on a leather couch which was the color of blood, Cassandra came home with the child Lucas. A green plaster cast was on the child’s arm. His fingers stood out. He looked as if he was in pain.

I touched his fingers. “You are a brave young man,” I said. I did not flinch as I took the pain away from his broken bone. He smiled at me, then his mother took him to bed.

I handed Cassandra the baby Trevor. He reached out his tiny arms and practically fell at her.

“Oh I could just eat you up,” said his mother as she kissed his cheeks.

Me too I thought.

Then she looked right at me and said, “You and Trevor are so cute together.”

Sigh. I was once the Vampire King and now I am a cute guy who watches babies who are also cute. This is a confusing world in which I exist. I also changed Trevor’s diaper, not once but three times, and I fed him breast milk his mother had pumped earlier. I am indeed a good friend to have around.

“With Brad out of town I don’t know how I’m going to sleep,” said Casandra.

“I can help you,” I said.

Once Cassandra was in a trance, and less a pint of blood, she slept. I made sure she had sweet dreams of her boys growing up to be strong men, like Vampires of old, but not so much as to scare her, and not Vampires.

I walked home thinking about my former wife. I must stop doing that. Not stop walking home. Stop thinking of my former wife. The bitch.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I lay in bed in the arms of my betrothed, Gillian. Her head is on my chest. Her arms are wrapped around me. She is as still and cool as marble. If she was not a Vampire I would think she was dead.

The two cats lay curled at our feet, hot and vibrating.

Jane the coyote lays curled at the foot of the bed on a blanket Gillian gave her.

I feel loved.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Oh the number of hearts I have broken over the centuries. Thousands. Maybe more. My capacity for breaking hearts is vast.

I was sitting in my favorite chair, with two cats attempting to keep my lap warm, when my love Gillian came home.

“I would stand but the cats would be so sad,” I told her with a smile, and held out my hand to her. “What brings you home so early? How was the Spa Night with your friends. You do not look relaxed my love.”

“It was weird and horrible even for people like us,” she said. By “us” she was speaking of Vampires, or at least I assume that. She then continued. “First They put something on my hair that smelled like dried cow patties. I went to the ladies room and washed it out of my hair. After that it was time for facials.”

“Cow patty? They put hamburgers on your face?” I asked.

“No Vlad. Oh you have missed a lot during your time in the crypt. A cow patty is a large dried cow poop.”

“My darling, how vile. How was the facial?”

“Worse than the cow pattie part.  I was told to lay back and relax as someone rubbed salmon oil on my face. If that wasn’t horrible enough, cats were then brought in to lick it off of our faces.”

“Cats? Why cats?” I asked.

“I was told it was the latest thing in natural skin care. The cat’s tongues exfoliate the skin. Bull shit.”

“Cow patties again?”

“No Vlad, bull shit is an expression for something that isn’t true. I don’t know where it came from. Please don’t ask me to explain. But damned if I was going to let some cat lick salmon oil off of my face. Darling I’m not going to kiss you or even come near you. I smell like a garbage can. I have to take a shower. I’ll be back in a bit.”

I watched my poor dear walk up the stairs, then went back to my pondering.

I’d heard of women centuries ago who would use the blood of virgins to try to make themselves beautiful.  That never worked. Oh the crazy things that vanity makes people do. On the other hand I appreciate the efforts that women take to make themselves appealing, and beautiful. Dare I say cute? Yes, even cute.

As a male I find it fascinating, horrifying, and completely confusing and mysterious. I would be maybe too bold to also say I find it cute.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today is Saint Valentine’s Day.

Last night Gillian said I am more cute than the one called Timberlake. I rolled my eyes at her and it made her laugh. Then she said she was still on the fence about the one who rides the board called Shawn White. Then she explained to me about this Shawn White. Then we watched the Olympic game coverage.

I know it was a joke Gillian was making but I was impressed and amused beyond words.

I love that woman.

I will now learn to ride a snow board.

But for now I will ride… excuse me, I will make love to Gillian. Maybe she’ll give me a high score. And I find myself with three gold medals! See I can find humor. 

Gillian and I made love. It was perfection. Then we talked, our bodies and minds entwined. I will no longer think of my former wife, or other Vampire loves of my past. Thoughts of Gillian are all I want or need. Of course I have my memories, but that is all they are. Just memories, and none as sweet as my thoughts of Gillian. Who needs chocolate when one has true love. Then she whispered in her sleep saying, “Vlad, you’re so cute.”

Sigh. Such is the life and love of a Vampire King.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Pumpkin Spice

coffee

Dear Diary,

I do not understand these large vegetables called pumpkins.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I went out for a bite to eat. It was night. Late night. I had gone to the usual night spots and had, what do people call it these days, oh yes, I had a snack or two. Small bites. Wanting more, and wanting something good I went to a tavern owned by a woman called Cassie.

I walked her home, nearly crazy with her warmth and the sweet smell of her blood. The night was cool with the change of the seasons. It was the autumn solstice. I was hungry.

Once inside of her house she grabbed my shirt and kissed me. I shared her embrace, hardly able to contain myself. Then she smiled and said she had to go to the bathroom. I waited, and decided to remove my shirt thus showing of my well chiseled muscular male form that few women can resist. I believe I have what people call a six pack. I do not understand it but I will accept it is a good thing.

Cassie appeared, still with a smile, completely naked, and completely beautiful. She approached me and put her hand on my chest.

“You’re cold Vlad,” she said.  Then she pressed her body next to mine. I kissed her. She sighed and pressed closer. Then just as I was ready to sink my fangs into her neck she stepped back away from me. I did not understand. Why did she step back from me?

The woman smiled and said, “Do you know what I want Vlad?”

“I assume it is me,” I said.

“I do want you Vlad, but first I want a Pumpkin Spice Latte.”

I did not know what to say. I, Vlad, King of Vampires, was speechless.

“Vlad,” said the beautiful naked Cassie, with a laugh, “you look so cute when you’re surprised. Damn, you always look cute.”

Cute. I do not understand this cute anymore than I understand this pumpkin spice. Kittens are cute. Babies are cute. I am not a baby or a kitten.

And now I find myself resistible. That is not a good thing. No woman should be able to resist me. I am after all Vlad the Vampire King. I ran my hand through my golden hair, and glared at her with my hypnotic blue Vampire eyes.

“What is this Pumpkin Spice Latte you desire?” I asked.

“Coffee flavored like Pumpkin Spice,” said Cassie.

“Vegetable flavored coffee? Why would you rather have that when you can have me? Would you rather I be a vegetable?”

She laughed again and called me cute again. I walked a few blocks to an all night coffee shop and obtained two Pumpkin Spice Lattes. All the while I was thinking that I should have stayed locked in the crypt in which I was imprisoned for three hundred years. On the walk to Cassie’s house I tasted one of the lattes. Stepping into an alley I vomited blood and Pumpkin Spice for ten minutes. Vampires should not drink Pumpkin Spice.

When I returned Cassie was wearing a robe over her naked body. She thanked me for the concoction from Hell. I debated whether to stay or go. She said the drink was good. Then she said I would be good too. I decided to stay.

I was exceptionally good.

I still feel ill

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I could not sleep today. Dreams of my home being overtaken by vines heavy with pumpkins, pounding on the windows, with tendrils clawing at my doors, filled my head.

Looking out my window I saw no pumpkins yet my thoughts were still troubled. Knowing my friend Randolpho would be awake I drove to his house to find solace.

My dear friend greeted me at the door and welcomed me in. His home was cool and dark. The experience made me feel relaxed. Then suddenly I was overcome with nausea.

I looked towards Randolpho who was lighting candles.

“What madness is this?” I cried.

“Pumpkin Spice candles. Bath and Body Works is having a sale. I love their fall scents. There is nothing like blood and a little Pumpkin Spice to make one feel positively warm with Vampire comforts,” said Randolpho.

“Are you out of your mind my friend?” I said. I glared at the candles and made the flames go dead.

“What crawled up your ass?” said Randolpho.

“You do not need to be crude Randolpho. That smell makes me sick,” I told him. Then I related the story of the night before.

“Vlad, my friend,” said Randolpho, “it was not the flavor that made you sick, it was the milk in the latte. You know Vampires can’t drink lattes. Now if the coffee had been black…”

“Stop. I want no more talk of this,” I said.

“Fine,” said Randolpho, giving me that look he gives me when he thinks I am being unreasonable. “I am going to the plant nursery on the hill to buy bulbs.”

“Bulbs. Pray tell why would a plant nursery sell bulbs unless you are growing marijuana…” I said.

“No, TULIP bulbs,” said Randolpho. “Fall bulbs, like tulips, daffodils and crocus. Those small fall wonders that when put in the ground explode into a riot of color and true beauty.”

Tulips. Oh how this modern world amazes me. I remember  when tulips were rare and as valuable as the rarest jewels.

Once as a ransom for his idiot son, who wanted to become a Vampire, a Dutch merchant gave me four rare tulip bulbs. It was the year 1635. I remember it well.

I planted the bulbs in pots and nurtured them. In the spring the small brown eggs of earth (as I liked to call them) produced magnificent blooms of purple and white stripes, red, and yellow. I invited all in my castle to come see the flowers. Then out of nowhere came Baskall Kirflint, a Vampire with great wealth, good looks and an ugly temper. He demanded that I give him the hand of my sister, or he would steal her away and have his way with her.

I told him, “Baskall Kirflint, my sister does not love you, nor will she ever love you. Your unpleasant ways and foul temperament reminds her of a spoiled child. She will not have you, and I will not force her to be with you.”

Baskall Kirflint snarled at me showing his fangs. Then he knocked the tulip pot to the floor and ground the bulbs and blooms with the heel of his boot into my Persian carpet.

“Be gone from my sight,” I said. Then I told my guards to send him on his way knowing there was a full moon that night. The Werewolves ate him, all except his head which was still alive. I put his head on a pole on my castle wall so he could watch the world without being able to be in it. That was a mistake for Baskall Kirflint yelled insults from his bodiless lead to all who passed. I threw his head into the fire pit in the castle court yard that night and ended Baskall Kirflint.

“Remember Baskall Kirflint?” I said to Randolpho.

“What an asshole,” said Randolpho. “In the five hundred years I’ve known you I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go angry.”

“Seven hundred,” I said, “but who is counting.”

Then we both laughed.

After putting on sunscreen and donning our dark glasses we went to the plant nursery on the hill to obtain tulip bulbs.

I have no words, or almost no words for my joy when I walked into the plant nursery building. Bin upon bin was filled with tulip bulbs in every color imaginable. Along with tulips were daffodils, narcissus, crocus, and freesia bulbs. I imagined the fortune I would spend in this place, then saw that the bulbs were inexpensive. Six bulbs were the price of a pair of socks.

I filled my cart with bulbs of all colors, but mostly red. Then Randolpho said we must look at more things. As we walked along rows of trees, blooming shrubs and flowers, two women looked at us. One whispered to her friend, “they make a cute couple.”

Randolpho just laughed. I was not amused, but wondered at the ignorance of these women. If two men look at flowers why do modern people assume they are a couple. I am still trying to figure out the modern world but make an attempt to not fall into branding people with stereotypes (my new word for this month.) Randolpho told me to get over it. That is another expression I refuse to use. I told him so.

As we continued to walk through the beautiful rows of flowers, herbs, and shrubs we came upon a sign that said, “Pumpkins Are Here.” What madness was this?

In front of us were piles and rows and mounds of pumpkins in every shape, size and color. There were gourds that looked like small monsters. There were pots shaped like pumpkins with grinning faces.

Randolpho picked out a few of the unusual pumpkins to bring to his house.

“What are you going to do with those Randolpho? You are not going to eat them, I know that to be true,” I said to my friend.

“I am going to decorate with these pumpkins. Then when the fall is over and Yule Time comes I will cut up the pumpkins and feed them to the squirrels and deer,” said Randolpho.

Now I am at home with two large bags containing over one hundred flower bulbs. It cost me less than one hundred dollars for all of them. I did not, would not, bring home any pumpkins.

I went back to sleep and had dreams of red flowers and Cassie’s hot red blood.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

It is now snowing in the mountains which I can see from my home. I think of the winters long ago when I lived in a castle. I think of standing on the high tower lookout with the cold wind in my hair, and soft flakes of cold snow falling on my face.

People in my neighborhood are starting to celebrate the cool air by putting scarecrows, wreaths of gold and orange leaves, and pumpkins on their porches.

Everything is different now. Different than it was centuries ago when I was King of the Vampires.

I sent my sister a text on my phone. I have learned to do that. It is a valuable tool. I send her a photo of the tulip bulbs. She sent back a message with three red hearts. Do I dare say that was cute? I told her that I would save some for her. I told her how excited I was about the bulbs.

Then she texted, “Do not lose your head over it.”

And I texted back, “LOL.”

I am feeling as if I belong to the modern world, even if I do not appreciate the cult of Pumpkin Spice.

~ Vlad

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This is #33 of the Vlad’s Vampire Diary series. For the entire series, from the beginning, CLICK HERE. ~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Vampire Diary: Two lips in the dark of the night

Dear Diary,

Today I went in search of tulips, those small packages, when buried underground, turn into beauty beyond compare when spring comes. It is as if by magic that they grow from the cold ground and bloom in a riot of color.

In 1636 my friend Petris traveled from Holland to my castle in the East and presented me with a box full of what looked like tear drop shaped balls of light wood. They were rare tulip bulbs, brought to me with great cost. Oh the magic of these flowers amazed me. It was beyond magic for it was real.

petris-tulip-vampire

Petris who brought me tulips. I wonder if he would be called cute by modern women? I imagine he would. I imagine his head would explode with pride. I imagine women would want his two lips (see, I can make a joke.) He would laugh. I will ask him.

I drove to a place called a nursery. There are no babies or children there, only plants and tools.

At the nursery were bins full of bulbs. There were tulips of colors I could never imagine. There were crocus, iris, and daffodil bulbs. I stood in wonder. Never before had I seen so much spring before me, waiting to be planted in the ground then come alive again, beautiful and surreal – like Vampires of the plant world.

As I chose my tulips of many colors and put them in the large metal basket on wheels I had a feeling I was being watched.

Two women stood next to me with smiles on their faces.

The one with the silver hair and young face spoke first. “Those tulips will be beautiful. You have so many. Are you planting a large space?”

“I did not think of space,” I said. I had eighty tulip bulbs in my metal basket on wheels.

“You look like you work in the garden a lot,” said the one with blonde hair and large brown eyes as she glanced at my arms.

“No, I am new to this gardening hobby. I love tulips, and other bulbs of springtime.”

“That is so cute,” said the silver haired one. “I bet you spend a lot of time at the gym.”

I smiled without fangs and made my blue eyes sparkle. That move has kept me fed for centuries.

“Very sweet,” said the blonde haired one. “Don’t forget to put them in the refrigerator for up to six weeks before you plant them. They need a hard frost to bloom well.” She touched my arm in what I have come to know is a friendly reassuring way. “You’re so cold.”

“I will warm up soon enough,” I said, knowing now what I would be doing for lunch.

After I arrived at my home I closed the curtains and put on soothing music using vinyl discs. I took the tulip bulbs in my hands and cooled them. There is no need to wait six weeks when one is a Vampire.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I planted my tulips. While I was digging in my yard one of my neighbors came out and asked me if my cat had died.

“My cat is not dead. I am planting tulips,” I told him.

He looked surprised. “At 1:00 a.m.?”

“I will not get sunburned,” I told him.

People are weird. I do not understand them. Why would he ask me if my cat was dead?

So I wait six months for my tulips to grow and come to life, like beautiful children buried under the dirt for a long winter nap.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today I looked at where my tulips are planted. They are still underground.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I was out in a public place, a bar, where there are many people. I sat at the bar listening to the talk around me. I could hear all that was said. The people spoke of their places of work. They spoke some of politicians who lust over power and say stupid things.  They mostly spoke of their romances. Then I turned. I overheard other Vampires.

They sat in a dark corner, with their heads close together. They spoke of a Vampire who had gone to a home where old people lived because it was easy. If the old person died it would not seem odd. The Vampires in the corner had removed this Vampire from the house of old people. They had taken him to the river and put a stake in his heart. They threw his ashes into the water.

I approached them. They all looked up, two males and one female. They were Vampires who hunted other Vampires. They could tell I am older and hold great power. This is not because of how I look but it is just something Vampires know.

I smiled, “Good evening.” I brushed back my golden hair. “I am Vlad.”

The looked at me in surprise. We talked. They said they were honored. I told them that now instead of ruling armies and keeping order, and keeping the law of Vampires, that I lived with a cat, and was gardening.

They laughed. They thought I was making jokes with them. I will let them think that.

The woman, a young Vampire in her 70’s told me that she didn’t expect me to be so cute. What is it with this cute? I asked her. She smiled and giggled like a school girl. There she sat in black leather with a knife strapped to her leg under her skirt, and she giggled.

We spoke of many things including the local Vampire community. I have been quiet. Most Vampire do not know I am here. Most do not know I exist anymore. After a while a young woman approached our table. I knew her. She and her friends are regulars at the bar.

She smiled at my friends then at me. Her name is Brittany. “Vlad, when you’re done here come join us,” she said. I told her that I would be there in a short time.

I reached into my satchel. “I have something for you before I go.”

“I never thought the King of Vampires would carry a man-purse,” said one of the Vampires.

“It is a satchel. Do not ever call my bag a man-purse,” I said freezing their hearts. Out of the bag I took my treasures. In front of each Vampire I set three tulip bulbs. “Plant these. They are blood red. Make sure you put the pointed side up or they will not grow. In the spring they will wake, like Vampires, beautiful and fresh.”

Then I went and joined my female friends.

In the early hours of the morning I opened my eyes in the bed of Brittany. Everything in her room was covered in flowers. The sheets on the bed were covered in flower patterns. Flowers were in vases on the furniture. Flower paintings were on the wall. I took this as a sign perhaps.

She ran her hand across my chest, up to my face, then curled her fingers in my hair and then brought her two lips to mine. “This is the last time I’m going to see you Vlad. You’re sexy and cute, but I’m getting married in a few weeks. I won’t be able to explain the punctures and bruises on my neck anymore.”

I was but a toy. But I knew that. I got what I wanted. She got what she wanted.

I left behind a dozen tulip bulbs with instructions on she could grow them in pots. I wished her well.

Walking down the street in the cool night air did not take the warmth of her body off of me. It has been that way for centuries. I am a Vampire. I am cold. But I am cute so women love me. Women love cats. Cats are cute. They love babies. Babies are cute. Babies are not always cute. I will never understand cute.

After being locked in a crypt for three hundred years I often find this modern world confusing. Yet, it is never dull. It is never uneventful.

I will miss Brittany. Her blood tasted like cherries mixed with a hint of thyme. But there will be others. There will always be others, but tonight I am out of tulips. The sun is coming up and I must get some sleep. And I will call Petris to find out what other wonders he discovered while I was locked in my crypt.

~ Vlad

 

Tulips

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Zipped

middle age romance

Dear Diary,

The cats have decided the time to sing the songs of their people is when I am attempting to sleep.

I do not understand them.

~ Vlad

blue cat

 

Dear Diary,

Before dawn and the rising of the sun, I walked in the woods along the well worn trail that is used by walkers and joggers during the day. I do not understand this jogging. One either runs or walks. One does not jog.

As I walked along the creek by the pond I could hear the rustle of the night creatures. A coyote stood across the water and looked into my eyes as if to say “hail Prince of Darkness.”

Then I heard the voice of a female.

“I see you have your entourage with you.”

I was puzzled. At this time my knights, servants, court, and legions of faithful Vampires have been dispersed. They are gone. I looked behind me half expecting to see ghosts of my former glory. There stood my cats. The large tabby and white cat, and her black kitten. Yes, my loyal entourage was with me.

I looked through the dark at a woman standing before me wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. In the old days she would have been in a dress with a sweeping cloak. This one wore what they call a hoodie – a soft shirt with a built-in hood and a zipper. I lived for centuries in a world of buttons, laces, and pins. After three hundred years of being trapped in a crypt, I come out to find zippers. Zippers are, I have a difficult time finding the words for such an invention…zippers are fantastic. Women who wear zippers are incredible. I find myself attracted to a female form in a garment with a long zipper. But I get off subject.

I realized that the woman who stood before me was also a Vampire like me.

“Yes, madam, my cats have followed me. They are my loyal subjects.”

She smiled without fangs. I tried to get into her mind but she shut me out. She was powerful. There was a great burden on her cold silent heart. That I could tell.

“What troubles you?”

She took a step closer.  The cats took a step back then ran around a tree and down the path a bit. I kept my eyes on hers.

If I had been a fool I would have said something like Vlad to meet you, but I am not a fool. I did not mention her zipper either.

I kept my eyes on hers. She could not look away. I could tell she was young, not yet two hundred years of age. Yet, she was powerful in the ways of Vampires and defiant. I could see visions and memories of many things puzzling and confusing to me. I dug deeper – then she locked me out.

“Get out of my head,” she all but snarled at me.

“Tell me who you are. Tell me who your clan is.” I demanded.

She put her hands on her hips. “Who died and made you king?”

Didn’t she know? “My father,” I told her.

“Don’t be a duche.”

I had no idea what she meant by that. “Madam, I was once the Vampire King, but that was a long time ago,” I said to her. “You are young, not yet two hundred years. You know who I am. Who are you?”

She just stared at me.

“Are you not impressed?” I asked her this rhetorical question in hopes that she be impressed.

She spoke. “I am trying my best to claw myself out of the proverbial rabbit hole. I came out here to be alone. So leave me the crap alone.”

I asked her how it was that there were rabbits so large to make a hole she could fall into. I could understand the need to crap alone. She hissed at me and showed her fangs.

I stood, not even knowing how to respond. Then she turned and ran up the hill vanishing into the mist, as the sky turned lighter.

The cats followed me home.

I sat and thought about what she had said. I went to my computer and researched rabbits. None are as large as humans. Maybe she is insane.

~ Vlad

 

Down_the_Rabbit_Hole

Dear Diary,

I had a dream last night of the Vampire woman I met by the pond. She was dancing under the moon in a short blood-red gown and her black hoodie with the long zipper.

A large rabbit with a sword chased me away. It was like in the books my father had. The books brought fear into my cold little heart but I knew they were false. Then I thought maybe the story of the rabbit hole was false. Yet, I did not feel lies from her. She did not, how do they say now, give off that vibration.

Then she saw me and plucked a glass eye out of her head and gave it to me. Then she sank her teeth into my neck and sucked out my soul. Then she scraped rough material across my cheek and I woke up to find my cat licking my face.

I looked up at the ceiling and wondered if I would ever be the same.

~ Vlad

 

medieval-rabbits

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight, after a night out, and a stomach full of blood, I went for a walk under the night sky. The cats followed behind me, chasing after me and things I could not see.

Again I saw the woman with the zippers, but this time her hoodie was white. She wore blue jeans with a zipper. Her hair was messy from the wind and fell into her face.

She glared at me, and spoke. “It is guys like you who make me want to puke. Just because you’re cute…and YOU are incredibly cute, too cute, it doesn’t mean that every woman you meet is going to think you’re Prince Charming,”

“I do not understand,” I told her. “Who is this Prince Charming?”

“You act like you’ve been sealed up in a crypt for a hundred years,” she said with fierce anger in her eyes.

“I HAVE been sealed in a crypt for three hundred years,” I told her.

Then she just stared at me for a long minute, as only a Vampire can stare at another Vampire.

Then she said, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Sorry.” Then she turned and ran.

“I like your zippers,” I called behind her. She did not turn around.

I do not understand any of this. The world used to be simple. If I was hungry I would find blood. If someone crossed me I would put his head on a pole. If a woman pleased me I would have her. When I spoke I was listened to. I would lead armies into battle and they would never question me. I would make love to women and they would beg for more and offer me their necks. Women still do that…but the rest I do not understand.

My cats are screaming for food. I tell them to catch their own food. They do not listen. Yet, I know they still love me. Maybe one day I will yet rule again.

~ Vlad 

 

call peta

Vampire Diary: The Twilight Zone of Love

Dear Diary,

Today I started to write my memoirs. I feel the weight of the damned upon my shoulders.

The cats are screaming. I must feed them. They refuse to catch their own food. I will start feeding them salad greens to inspire them to channel into their carnivore souls.

~ Vlad

 

I am her cat.

 

Dear Diary,

The cats are not happy with me.

~ Vlad

 

Grumpy-Cat-NO-1

Dear Diary,

Three hundred years of sleep has put me at a disadvantage. I wake and the world is an alien planet. Yes, I, Vlad the Vampire King, know what Science Fiction is. I make a comparison, only the world in which I have awakened is not fiction.

I’ve read the stories of Philip K. Dick, Ursula K. Le Guin, and H. G. Wells. Their worlds are hardly less fantastic than what I see before me each and every single day. Yet, their writing is bold and fearless. I shall read more. I shall seek out more of what they call SciFi.

My old Vampire friend Thomas Kent came by the other night. We consumed many bottles of blood and many of wine, as we binge watched X Files episodes. I could fall in love with Scully. She would make a fine Vampire.

Thomas said we would next binge watch Breaking Bad. I understand it is about alchemist teacher and those who are against his art.

Later Thomas and I went out for fresh blood. I looked around every corner for The Smoking Man.

~ Vlad

The-X-Files

 

Dear Diary,

Today Thomas introduced me to something called Twilight Zone. I might never leave my house again.

He said that next week he will introduce me to something called Golden Girls. He said it will change me on so many levels. I have no idea what he means by that. I shall wait until next week.

~ Vlad

24-masks-twilight-zone.w750.h560.2x-1450978483

 

Dear Diary,

I have been thinking much about allegorical concepts and metaphors of stories that are so much part of modern culture. A wolf is no longer enough to scare someone. Religion does not bring fear into the hearts of the parishioners. It is stories of modern morality, greed, sex, and vanity told in straight forward ways that aren’t about royalty or gods. The stories are of the common man, both grim yet highly entertaining. There is a man called Stephen King who writes of such things in terms of good and evil with descriptions that would make even a Vampire take note. He is the master. There are others as well. But forget the horror, I have discovered women who write of romance in ways that make me almost numb not knowing what to think. The men on the covers tend to look a lot like me. How did they know? I am the man all women desire yet after reading these novels I wonder… I wonder a lot of things. I wonder if a woman called Nora Roberts would write a book about me. My image does not have to be on the cover. I’d prefer she just write about me, in

Modern women are like more like men in some ways, yet they are even more mysterious than they ever were. They are more beautiful and full of desire than women of the past. They are…they are…my dark soul is moved to say that they are wonderful.

But I speak too much about my food. I find while my body can be with many, my heart and mind are only with my Gillian.

~ Vlad

 

99ec35c3f2ce07478c410b316bf3f98b

Dear Diary,

Thomas told me that the actress who plays the role of Scully is name Gillian. If my heart could beat fast it would.

~ Vlad

 

Unknown

Dear Diary,

Gillian and I went out tonight, as we often do, because we’re Vampires. It should have been a normal night. By that I mean the kind of night that people have gone out in for hundreds, if not thousands of years. We went to a club, we drank wine, we listened to music, and we even danced. Then we had our fill of blood from new found friends.

As we walked through a dark alley, arm in arm, warm blood in our veins, love in our barely beating hearts and headed towards my car. Then I heard voices. Gillian heard them too. We stopped. She glanced at me and squeezed my arm. I took her hand.

“That’s them, the cute blonde guy and the beautiful ginger.”

“The Vlad the Vampire King?”

“They look like they’re off the cover of a bodice ripper romance. Don’t let that fool you.”

“Let’s make this happen. Jay, take the woman with the net. I don’t want her dead. Not yet. Carl, take the watch. The rest of you guys, stay with me. We’ll get Vlad.”

Gillian and I turned around. There were seven of them.

Vampire Hunters.

“I wish I’d worn flats,” Gillian hissed under her breath.

Before us stood six men and one woman. They were all dressed in black. They all carried weapons of some sort.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“The accent. Listen to his accent. He has the Lugosi accent,” said one of them.

“What an asshole,” said Gillian. “Let’s do this Vlad.”

She was right. I’d take no more insults from these idiots.

As they rushed us I held out my hand. “You are tired. Your eyes are weighted with molten silver. Your feet are like stones. You want to sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.”

Gillian sang softly. “Sleep, my loves, sleep in the dreams of your childhood. Sleep my kittens. Sleep.”

Then they fell to the ground. They were not good at what they do. Gillian and I looked down on them in disgust.

Then she started to dig in her purse.

“What are you looking for Gillian?”

“A Sharpie.”

“Do you wish to stab them? Their own pathetic lives are enough punishment for these characters.”

“No, not that kind of sharpie. A pen.”

And out of her purse she pulled a black pen. “Indelliable ink. It won’t come off for at least a week, unless of course they scrub their skin off.”

Then she proceeded to write the word LOSER on their foreheads and colored their noses black. She colored the woman’s lips black. On the men she drew funny beards and mustaches. Aside from when we make love I’ve never seen Gillian so happy.

When she was done we left and went back to her house.

In the old days I would have killed them. Now we do something worse. We make them look ridiculous.

I opened my eyes as she slept with her cold pale arms and legs wrapped around me, her auburn hair over my chest. We did indeed look like the cover of a romance novel. Maybe that isn’t a bad thing.

As for the Vampire Hunters… I don’t know. I don’t care. They are fools and will never be as glorious as the Vampires they seek.

~ Vlad

night walk

 

Dear Diary,

When one lives in a world that is in the shadows of both the real and the unreal it can be confusing, but then again it can be rewarding.

My mind goes back to times when we’d see dragons flying overhead as they migrated to their winter homes. There was a time when most everything in our homes, including the computer I write upon would be considered magic.

Then I see Gillian and I feel a different kind of magic.

I do not always understand it, this thing called love. There were centuries when I never felt it or missed it. There were centuries when I didn’t care. Love was no concern of mine. Then a woman who would draw funny beards on Vampire Hunters entered my existence. She was every bit as cold as I am, and it, what is the word they use? It clicked.

I must feed the cats. Tonight to celebrate they get tuna. From a can. As Vampire King I must make my subjects happy. HA HA HA. See I made a joke.

~ Vlad

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