Tag Archives: vampire

Blood Oranges #2. Go with the flow chart

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Welcome to Saturday Blood Oranges, where I doodle on Friday night (after several glasses of wine) and post it on Saturday. This one is almost like a BURNING QUESTION, but not quite. The photo here is my dog Alice aka the sweetest  Hell Hound around. Yes, I’m going to be really random here.

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And now…drum roll please…the official flow chart…made in pale pencil.

ARE YOU A VAMPIRE?

vampire chart

Feel free to leave questions, comments, your drawings, suggestions for future Blood Oranges, locations of safety deposit boxes (and keys), recipes, inspirational quotes (just kidding), or whatever you want in the comments section. Just make it nice or funny or something a Vampire would appreciate.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

yelling vampire

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Culture

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Dear Diary,

Tonight I cut myself while shaving my face. I did not bleed as I had not eaten yet. I realized that if I did eat I would start to bleed. That would be a problem as I had put on a white shirt. I had rolled up the sleeves to right below my elbow. Modern women find that “hot.” I am not sure what they mean by “hot” except maybe they are so excited that they age a dozen years in their excitement and stop having children but I know that is not what hot means. I also know that my lover Gillian would slap me if she knew such a thought had come into my mind. What do they call it? Hot flash? A hot flash. I would cause a hot flash. I do not think that is what women mean by hot when they see my sleeves rolled up.

I am a Vampire. Hot is not a good description for me. I once heard a woman say I was smoking hot. I went into the restroom to find a mirror. There was no smoke coming out of me or my clothing. I was going to ask her to explain but ended up going to her house and drinking her blood instead. If a woman wants me to be hot then I shall be hot.

In order to make my cut go away I put my finger on the wound and said a few ancient Vampire words in order to heal myself. Then I left my house. As I drove I wondered if a hot flash was anything like a flash mob, then I thought of something else.

After going out to a local club for a quick bite I noticed a spot on my shirt. I was bleeding. I covered my cut with a paper napkin until the bleeding stopped. I hate it when I leak. It has been what some call one of those days.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today I met my friend Constantine at the art museum. When I was Vampire King of my own Vampire Kingdom there were no museums. I had paintings, and sculpture, and skulls, tapestries, and strange bones on shelves. I would let people into my castle to see the objects. We did not have churches in the Vampire Kingdom so I displayed interesting things people brought me from far away places.

While I was locked in a crypt for the 18th – 20th Centuries museums came into vogue. Constantine told me that museum comes from the word muse, or as a shrine of the muses. This museum phenomenon is all new to me. I do not think I have a muse. I only have an um.

Constantine was late. I walked into the vast building, connected to an older vast building. Herds of children followed old people called docents out of the lobby, up stairwells, and elevators. I walked the halls alone finding myself surrounded by strange things.

I find almost all things strange in the 21st Century but the museum seemed to be a repository of strangeness. The strange galleries were filling up with children who seemed to love the random splashes of color, and disturbing sculptures. I could hear someone asking the children about the purpose of the horizontal lines. I had to leave before I was caught up in the frantic excitement.

Down a hall I found myself alone, surrounded by paintings of mostly outdoor places. I stood in front of a painting of singular beauty. The scene was that of a marsh, or field on a foggy morning, with a group of trees in the background. It was simple, yet drew me in unlike any other piece I had seen.

A hand settled on my shoulder and a voice spoke quietly next to me. “I knew the artist well. He painted that right before he left California. It was because of a woman. She was cheating on him. I miss him.”

“That is a sad story my friend,” I said. “What happened to him?”

“I was going to go back to the East Coast where he’d set up a studio, but he’d died. I should have changed him into a Vampire when I had the opportunity, while he was still here. I think he would have done well as one of us,” said Constantine.

Constantine spends a lot of time at the art museum. He is there on Thursday nights and other adult events. He said there were lectures and films to see. He says it is his favorite place to dine because he likes the crowd of art lovers. He says art makes their blood sweeter.

As we walked around, he told me stories about the artists and the artworks. He explained the different art movements, even with art that does not move. Yes indeed, there is art that moves.

At one point two lovely young women stood near us. All young women are lovely are they not?

I glanced over at them and smiled. Constantine did the same.

“Are you two models? Actors maybe?” One asked while the other just smiled.

We told them no. They smiled and walked on, talking to each other about how handsome and cute we were.

“What do those charming women mean by cute? Is it different in a museum setting? Either way I have yet to understand exactly what they mean. A kitten is cute. A baby is cute. We are not kittens or babies.” I said to my friend.

Constantine just laughed but failed to answer my questions.

I asked him if any of his art was in the museum. “Not yet,” he said. “Maybe I’ll donate one of my 17th Century pieces, but I have to admit my early 20th Century landscapes are more popular.”

Constantine has always been an artist. He has also always been sly and quick to take advantage of easy situations. He is an extremely successful Vampire.

I will come back to the art museum. Maybe I will get a membership.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Five years ago I was rescued from my entombment. Trapped in a crypt for three hundred years left me completely in the dark. Maybe that is not the correct expression to use since I am a Vampire and being in the dark is not that bad of a thing.

I am 675 years year old yet my points of reference and my appearance is that of a Millennial.

I have experience but my technology is too old.

Once I even told someone that I was raised in a religious cult in an isolated mountain town and home schooled by coyotes and squirrels. I could not tell them that my isolation was due to being locked in a crypt with five dead bodies, and with a wooden stake through my heart.

I know that my style is such that my friends need not call the five Queer Eye men to make me over.

I know that my hesitation and naivety can charm both men and women. I know my good looks can do the same.

But when someone asks me if I am straight and I check my posture that is embarrassing. It was two years before someone told me that “straight” was someone who is attracted to the opposite sex. I do not know these new words.

I do not want to act like an old man. On the other hand I have met old men who would be considered “exceptionally cool” by a Mellinnial, or anyone else who is alive and not a Vampire.

My head is spinning. It is time to sleep. Good night Diary. Close up. Go to sleep. The cats are waiting on the foot of the bed and wish for me to join them.

~Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

Click HERE to see all of Vlad’s Vampire Diary entries. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Vlad’s Vampire Diary: A Squirrel Walked Into A Bar (and it was cute)

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A short tale about a night at a bar made even longer and more rambling by Vlad, King of Vampires.

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: A Squirrel Walked Into A Bar

Dear Diary,

My friend Randolpho suggested we go up to the mountains to a place called Donner Lake. 

“James invited us to his cabin,” he said. “We can even go skiing. The snow will be amazing.”

“Donner Lake was where a group of people were trapped for the winter and turned to cannibalism,” I said.

Randolpho scowled at me as he always does. “That was in 1846. It was also probably one of the most poorly planned trips in the history of anywhere. A few years later came the California Gold Rush, and San Francisco, and art movements, the Transcontinental Railway, and Hollywood, and University of California, and Silicone Valley, and Squaw Valley.”

“The highway might be closed,” I said.

“Come on Vlad, we’re Vampires. Being stuck in the snow for a few days isn’t going to hurt us. Besides, the roads are plowed and I have chains for my tires.”

“Fine,” I said, “but make sure you bring a cooler with blood in it. I do not want to have to eat you if we get stuck in the snow.”

I used to be fearless, but after being locked up in a crypt for 300 years the modern world can wear me out. Having no point of reference to anything cultural or historical is like being blind in an art museum with no docent.

So I agreed to go. Lord have mercy on my cold dark Vampire soul.

~ Vlad

Dear Diary,

Randolpho and I left in the morning with a trunk full of blood, blankets, something he calls beef jerky, hot coffee from Badfish, and his vast collection of New Wave music.

It took us six hours to get to James’s cabin. By then it was dark, the highway had been closed, and I was starving.

At the cabin James had left a note saying I will be right back, meet you at Bernard’s. James explained to me that Bernard’s is a bar. I wondered where James could have gone. The storm had turned into a blizzard. There was nowhere to go.

Randolpho handed me a pair of snow shoes and we walked snowblind to the bar. My friend kept on his ridiculous tall hat, as always. I do not know how he kept it on in the storm.

Big Hat

Randolpho and his tall hat which he rarely takes off.

We arrived at lone building surrounded by trees. A large front deck was festooned with white twinkle lights that looked like fairies in the snow filled air. As we opened the doors and walked in we were greeted by a tall man with red hair and a sharp nose. Randolpho introduced him to me as Bernard.

“What will you have to drink?” asked Bernard. “I can make you an Irish Coffee with a blood chaser. Of course the beer is cold.” Then he laughed. “Don’t be surprised Vlad. I know you’re Vampires. We get a lot of your kind in here.”

I scanned the room. All female heads turned to look at me. I smiled a bit in a friendly way without my fangs. I am used to it.

I sat at the bar. Next to me sat two men. One introduced himself to me with a rough hand with fingers ending in dirty nails. He was sharp nosed with pointy teeth. His small black eyes showed no fear. His name was Buster. His small friend sat next to him sleeping with an ocassional snort.

“I come here for the ladies,” he said with a snorting laugh. “They’re trapped with me now that the blizzard is coming down. Nobody leaves this place tonight. That means more TLC for me.”

My stomach was growling by now and I looked towards Buster and his sleeping friend.  Randolpho nudged me and whispered, “Don’t even think about it Vlad. Biting into Buster would be like eating week old room temperature sushi you purchased at a gas station in the Mojave Desert.”

A beautiful red headed woman sat down next to me, and next to her sat her beautiful white blonde friend. Buster leaned over me and winked at the ladies. They looked at him in disgust.

“You smell like you are carrying a dead animal under your shirt,” I said to Buster.

“You never know. There MIGHT BE a dead animal under there. And guess what pretty boy, those ladies might like someone who doesn’t smell like a fucking flower farm. They might like a guy with a little meat on him.”

He slid off of his chair and blew a kiss at the women, “Hey ladies, I gotta take a leak but when I’ll let you rub my hairy belly, and even more if you’re good.” He left with a blast of loud gas and a skip in his step. Even as a Vampire I have my limits of what amounts of disgusting things I can take in.

The women looked away from Buster and scooted closer to me. Randolpho and I were ready to settle down with them for the night when the doors flew open and a gust of wind and snow blew into the bar along with a SQUIRREL.

A squirrel walked into the bar.

It was a large gray squirrel who weighed maybe 2 pounds. He jumped on the bar and shook off his fur, then pounded his tail and chattered out a shrill demanding call.

Bernard the bartender put bowl of mixed nuts and a shot of Bourbon in front of the squirrel. The little animal sat on the bar and ate nuts while sipping the drink.

The Squirrel looked at me then spelled out a work with nuts.

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CUTE

“Yes, I know you are cute my dear Squirrel, I said.

The Squirrel shook it’s small gray head, thumped it’s tail and then pointed a tiny finger at me. Then it barked at me and pointed at the nuts.

Cute. Oh how this plagues me. I do not understand this cute. Squirrels and kittens are cute. I am the Vampire King. How can I be cute?

The two women giggled. “You are so cute,” they said in unison.

I thought to myself, there is my dinner right there.

But no, the door opened again and our friend James came into the bar with a gust of wind and snow. In his arms was his baby unicorn. Then out from behind the bar came a woman with rainbow colored hair.

“Awwwwww, what a sweet baby unicorn,” she said holding out her arms. The unicorn went straight to her. James winked at us and went off to a back table with the woman. James is such a, what do they say, a dog. James is such a dog, even for a Vampire.

Right on behind James came a man with two huge wolves with glowing red eyes.

The man took a back table with the wolves. I soon realized he was another Vampire who came with two Werewolves.

“We take all kinds in here,” said Bernard. “A blizzard doesn’t discriminate and neither do we.”

It is a good attitude to have. Believe me, I am a 675 year old Vampire so I know a thing or two.

The last person to arrive was a tall dark haired man with an Australian accent. “Clem!”  all the ladies called out.

I was shocked. He was as handsome as I am. Maybe more so. It was no problem. It took some of the pressure off of me.

The night went on and the twenty-five guest of Bernard’s Bar drank, danced, ate, and talked until Bernard said last call at around 2:00 a.m.

But not before I spent some quality time with the pale blonde named Angel, but that story can wait for another time.

~ Vlad

Dear Diary,

This morning James, Randolpho, and I walked down to Bernard’s for coffee. Yes, even Vampires need coffee after a long confusing night.

A dead possum lay in the road in front of the bar.

“Do you think we should bury it?” Asked James.

“The snow is too deep. Just let the vultures or coyotes get it,” said Randolpho.

On the front deck a small armadillo with an odd nose was curled up in a chair, half covered by an old plaid blanket.

“Wow,” said Randolpho. “That’s a Pigladillo. I haven’t seen one of those in years.”

As we opened the door we could see two pretty little squirrels, one red, and one white, sitting on the bar eating nuts. Nearby a fox was eating dog food out of a bowl. A large black and brown kangaroo sat at a back table eating a salad. A unicorn who looked like a Rainbow Donkey ran up to us.

James put his tiny unicorn down to play with his new friend. Now THAT is cute.

A tall handsome man with a bushy head of gray hair stood behind the bar.

“Where is Bernard? Sleeping in?” asked James.

The man at the bar smiled. “Bernard is right there eating breakfast,” he said as her gestured at the fox. The women, Angel and Red are at the bar. Clem is the kangaroo in the back having a salad. Buster and his friend are out front. Don’t worry about Buster, the snow plow will scoop him up. I put a blanket over his friend.”

He looked at our confused faces and laughed. “I’m surprised at you guys. You’re Vampires. You should know this stuff. Full moon. Yes, it was a full moon last night. They’re Werepeople. You know, animals except when the moon is full then they turn into people. It was a full moon last night. They all turned into people.”

No wonder the woman called Angel tasted a little gamey.

The fox looked up at me and winked, as if he could read my mind.

The man behind the bar said, “I’m Bill, but everyone calls me Evil.”

“You’re…” Randolpho started to say.

“Evil Squirrel. Yep, I’m a Weresquirrel. That was me at the bar last night.”

We sat down and had coffee with Evil, and talked about the weather, the animals, and the strange world in which we live.

I do not know how long we will have to stay up at Donner Lake, but I will let you know when I return home.

~ Vlad

~ end

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This is what Vampires use to grind nuts. CUTE CUTE CUTE

Juliette is now on the blog.

Well now (clears throat), this was my silly submission to the 2019 Evil Squirrel’s Nest Contest of Whatever. The prompt was A Squirrel Walked Into A Bar.

If you’re a fan of Evil Squirrel’s Nest, which you should be, you’ll understand all of the inside jokes and character references.

This is such a fun contest. If you haven’t entered it you still have a few days. This is the link https://evilsquirrelsnest.com/2019/01/27/the-sixth-annual-contest-of-whatever/. (or just CLICK HERE.) Check out the other fabulous and fun entries from the comments section and ping backs. These will make you LAUGH OUT LOUD. As an added bonus all of the other entries are a lot shorter than my rambling tale.

The Sixth Annual Contest Of Whatever!

Below are links to my past entries, including the 2017 WINNER of the CONTEST OF WHATEVER.

By the way, Game Day is still a Vlad’s Vampire Diary fan favorite.

For all of Vlad’s Vampire Diary entries CLICK HERE.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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Not quite a Pigladillo but close enough.
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My cats Oscar and Gloria because they’re cute.

Here are some photos of my squirrel at the Bird Feeder Bar.

https://evilsquirrelsnest.com/2019/01/27/the-sixth-annual-contest-of-whatever/

Burning Question #28: Apple Pie

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Pie!

There are all sorts of pies. Everybody has a favorite.

This is the time of year when the new crops of apples are being harvested. So APPLE PIE is the subject of today’s feel good, non-offensive BURNING QUESTION.

There are some who say, “Actually, apple pie isn’t American.” Shut your pie hole. Nothing is more American than Apple Pie. That is like saying “BBQ isn’t American because the current breeds of cattle used for commercial use originally came from Scotland.”

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Yes, we all went to school with that kid. Our kids had to deal with them. We’ve worked with that guy. Dude, chill. It is just a saying. Now go get yourself a piece of apple pie with ice cream on it and feel good about yourself and the people around you (yes, this IS a parenting blog too.)

Apple pie is universal. Where there are apples there is pie.

Apple Pie.

Everybody loves pie. Even I, who has to say no to most pie (because I’m a Vampire) love pie, or at least the idea of pie.

I once made an apple pie with no recipe. It actually turned out really great. Woo Hoo. The key is to not make the apples too sweet. When in doubt go light on the sugar. The second key is to keep the shortening or butter in the crust COLD COLD COLD and don’t over mix it. That way it will turn out nice and flakey. And one more thing – ALWAYS use good crisp tart apples. Granny Smiths are good. Stay away from Fuji apples for pie. They’re great for eating but not so much for pie. However if you throw in a couple of Golden Delicious (not the red) it adds a nice naturally sweet flavor.

Juliette Trivia: I like to bake more than I like to eat what I bake. I’m not even tempted to eat it. I like giving it away.

Apple Trivia: Apples were first cultivated in Centeral Asia, but they have been cultivated in Asia and Europe for thousands of years. The European settlers brought apples to America (and Canada and Mexico.)  Wherever people go they bring their apples with them.

My children did not learn about Johnny Appleseed in school. When I told them about him they thought it was a weird story.

This week’s burning question will leave with all kind of warm and fuzzy fall fun. How do you like your apple pie?

 

 

Should Apple Pie be eaten plain, with cheddar cheese or with vanilla ice cream?

 

 

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Honey, don’t you need a pot holder? You can tell she is some sort of paranormal person, because otherwise her hand would be burning.

If you have more thoughts on pie let me know. Leave something nice (like pie) in the comment section. If apple isn’t your favorite tell me what is? Or do you prefer savory pie. Or are you feeling like math today and pi? Please share.

Check back next week for another BURNING QUESTION. 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

Ask Juliette: Odd Dreams, Relationships, Possums, and a Question About the Vampire King.

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crowletter

Dear Juliette,
It appears that I have had several dreams of being a vampire however in all my dreams I always simply wake up before another dream of being a vampire in a different time era comes to be there is more tendencies that I tend to have but do not disclose almost all of these however have a blood red moon before I wake I don’t know if you have any insight on this but my dreams are not always the same sometimes I’m a vampire other times a Lycan I feel like something inside is trying to reach out to me…

You might just be having random dreams. We all do. On the other hand you might have a Vampire messing with you. We’ll do that you know – give you dreams. Maybe you remind someone of times gone by. Maybe they have a crush on you. An overly romantic vampire can be more than a pain in the neck; they can mess with your sleep as well. I hope you don’t ever become a Werewolf/Lycan. Oh man, they don’t walk and easy path. Stay away from those wolf-folk. Stay away. If you’re watching a lot of vampire movies or reading a lot of vampire fiction it might be time to give it a break for a bit. On the other hand write it all down. You might have a best seller on your hands.  

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Dear Juliette,
How can I tell if my boyfriend is a troll? He stays up all night pounding on the underside of a bridge asking crossing goats how to become a Vampire… wait. Never mind.

You might consider counseling on your choice of romantic partners. I’m pretty sure the guy is a troll, or at least a creep. Seriously there are a lot of great guys out there who are already Vampires (and they’re totally cold and hot.) And stay away from guys who try to pick up on strange goats.

design

Dear Juliette,
When is it time to give up on my art?

Never.

 

design

Dear Juliette,
I think possums are cute. Am I weird?

People who don’t like possums are weird. You’re just fine.

design

Dear Juliette,
I have to ask you about your posts about Vlad of “Vampire Diary” fame. Is he based on Vlad the Impailer? Is he based on Dracula? Why is he living in surburbia if he is the Vampire King? That doesn’t make sense. He should be in LA or New York City living in a penthouse or a lavish mansion ruling this new Vampire kingdom and followers. I understand that he is sexy and dangerous but why add all of the cuteness. He is a cold powerful Vampire not some guy out of a Nicholas Sparks or Nora Roberts novel. Who is that idiot Randolpho he hangs out with? Just asking for a friend.

Uh hem (that was me clearning my throat.)

No, he is not based on that violent ugly little shit soulless Vlad the Impailer. He is not based on Bram Stoker’s Dracula. He is living in surburbia because it is comfortable and he can have a little peace. He lives in a very nice upper middle class neighborhood with lovely people. He isn’t in LA or New York City because he just wants to be low key for a while. Yes, it would be easy for him to jump right into being Vampire King but he is still trying to navigate living in the 21st Century. Now about the cute thing… Vlad is really cute. He is powerful. He can be quite dangerous and cold. He could be a guy in a Nora Roberts novel but he isn’t. Nicholas Sparks? Maybe not, but hey, Vlad can be a sensitive guy. As for Randolpho…he and Vlad have been friends since childhood. So what if you think he is an idiot. A good friend is a beautiful thing, even if you’re a Vampire. Jeeze, that was weird. Go take a chill pill or something. 

And if you’re reading this and don’t know about Vlad’s Vampire Diary CLICK HERE.

 

Ask Juliette

 

 

 

Ask Juliette (Ask a Vampire) is a somewhat frequent feature on Vampiremaman.com

If you have a question about ANYTHING (Vampires, relationships, parenting, life, weird stuff, etc.) just leave a comment here or email me at juliettevampiremom @ gmail. com

Thanks for dropping by and have fun.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: A Man Should Have What He Wants

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Note: Welcome. I’m away today seeking cooler weather (under triple digit) so enjoy this “classic VM rerun.”

Tangled Tales

A Man Should Have What He Wants

A Nasty Little Vampire Story from Juliette aka Vampire Maman  

A house full of books and the ghosts of what could have been.

What can be. Oliver Thomas thought as he sat on the edge of the bed.

He never let himself get close to those he visited over the years. It was easy to become detached just as one could be detached to an apple or a head of lettuce.

She slept quietly. On the nightstand were books, earrings, a clock set for 5:00 a.m., and her glasses. Her husband was snoring and slept in another room. Her children were tucked into their dreams. Oliver made sure of that. They’d all be asleep.

Oliver Thomas kept coming back to her. She was different, by her own accord. Amanda had always been different – the type who saw the world in visions and possibilities. Someone who overcame obstacles.  If she grew to be old she’d be a sweet eccentric with her window boxes full of exotic flowers and vast knowledge of the obscure and unusual.

She had a hard time making friends due to her shyness and reluctance to follow up. Her fear of rejection paralyzed her in some areas of her life. Most of life was paralyzing but she seemed to thrive and succeed.

Yet, the woman could light up a room with her wit and charm. She was a success despite her low opinion of herself.

But he’d fallen in love with her in a strange way that someone falls in love with an idea of perfection and the ideal person to share life’s adventures with.

Her teenage kids still hung all over her like toddlers, leaning on her even now. They were taller than she was, dressed in their black band shirts with trendy long hair and black painted nails.  Oliver had seen Amanda once, her son with his lanky arm around her shoulder, her daughter with an arm around her waist. How many women, he wondered, envied her for the closeness she had with her children.

If it wasn’t for her children she might have checked out and left the world a long time ago. Since childhood Amanda had been uncomfortable with life and the tremendous effort it took for her to live with herself and her failures.

Oliver saw that Amanda had failed to see her success, except with her children. He didn’t want to think of her marriage with Craig. It worked better than most. In fact, for the most part, her marriage to Craig was an uncommon success.

Craig, the handsome and successful husband, was the love of her life. Even in her dreams Amanda couldn’t cheat on Craig. They’d built a life together. For her that was enough. More than enough she told herself.

But Oliver knew it wasn’t enough. Amanda found her life in others but kept her secret soul and passions locked up, bound in shadows and secrets.

At one time, Oliver and Amanda had been lovers. The memory of her warm skin, her lips on his own, her hands in his hair and her passion haunted him. He’d come and gone from her life assuming she’d always be there.

Now he was only with her in the dream world of the night.  She’d remember him in another time and place in long lost memories of centuries past. She’d think she’d had a life in another time with him, a past life of possibilities and promise and passion.

An unlikely candidate this middle aged working mom, too tired and busy  to think of herself except when she let her imagination fly as she commuted to school and work in her car each morning, or when she dozed off at night in her own secret places.

The passions were still in her, as it had been when she was young. How could that be?  He kissed her then buried his face into her neck and when he’d had enough of her he silently left her with dreams of passion and desire.

The following evening Oliver looked up from his desk and there she was, standing in the doorway. Black dress, apple green sweater, black heels. The blue Coach bag, a 50th birthday present from her husband was slung over her shoulder. She looked she owned the world, but she still didn’t think she was beautiful.

How did she find me here? I never told her where I live?

“Amanda.” He said her name as if in a dream.

“Don’t Amanda me Oliver. I want you to leave me alone.”

He stood and approached her with his hands held out. “It was always the wrong time or place for us.”

She stepped back ignoring his open arms. “Don’t even start with me Oliver. It would have never worked. You always said I was too independent. Then you turned around and called me needy.”

“I never said any of those things.” He was shocked by her accusations.

“You didn’t have to say it. You made it obvious you were thinking it.”

He didn’t respond. This wasn’t the time for the witty dialog they’d shared in the past, the long talks through the night or the sweet lover’s words.

“Amanda, you can’t stand there before me and say that with a straight face.”

She looked at the floor then looked up straight into his eyes. “You never told me you loved me.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“Bull shit. You just expected me to hang around and wait for you to come in and out of my life. It got old Oliver. But it doesn’t matter. I’m married to a man who loves me the way I am.  I’m successful, happy and I love my life.”

“I doubt if Craig realizes what a fortunate man he is.”

“He knows.”

“Did you ever tell him about me?” Oliver took a step forward. Amanda folded her arms as if to shut him out.

“I haven’t told anyone about you. They’d all think I was nuts. Just like my Aunt Margaret when she talked about her Vampire.”

“You still love me Amanda.” Oliver said those words quietly with such passion that almost no woman would be able to resist. No woman except Amanda.

She turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

Oliver watched from the window as she got in her car and drove away. The slightest hint of regret surged through his dark thoughts. He’d never meet another who captured his heart and his passions like she had.  He’d never meet anyone who made him laugh or feel the joy of being like Amanda had.

Oliver heard the steps behind him but didn’t turn around. A warm hand caressed his shoulder.

“Is she gone?” The speaker was obviously annoyed.

“Yes.”

“Does she have any idea I’m here?”

“No.”

Craig looked out the window. “Good. Where do we go from here?”

“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

“My son is an Emo freak who acts in plays and writes poetry for fun. My daughter won’t talk to anyone unless it’s a text. My wife is never going to lose the baby fat or stop telling stupid jokes or snoring or complaining how hard she works. It wasn’t what I signed up for.”

“I understand.”

“Just for once I want what I want. I don’t want to go home to a woman who is tired all the time and can’t even comprehend my needs.”

“What about your children? You must care about them on some level.”

“They’ll be fine without me. Amanda will have two million dollars in life insurance to get the kids through college. There’s another 10 million in assets she can sell off if she has to. She’ll make sure her children have wonderful memories of me.”

“The news of your death will break her heart.”

Craig scowled at Oliver. “Amanda is already so miserable she won’t even notice. She’ll be happy to be the unfortunate widow and bask in the glow of her own sorrow. I’m doing her a favor by dying rather than divorcing her.”

“And your girlfriends?” Asked Oliver.

“They’re whores who think they can get ahead by sleeping with the CEO. They’ll both get their pink slips next week. So now what?”

Oliver went back around to his desk and sat in the antique leather chair. “Your car will be found in the river and it will be assumed your body was washed away with the currents. Your wallet and a few clothing items will be found washed up on a beach. It will be assumed that you died.”

“So when do I change?”

“Change?”

“When do I become like you? A Vampire.” Craig asked this impatiently almost sounding like a spoilt teen.

Oliver took a deep breath and answered him. “Tonight if you want, but I’d rather wait until tomorrow.”

Craig leaned on the desk close to the Vampire. “I want this Oliver. I want my freedom.”

“You’ll get what you want Craig.”

“Oliver, I’m telling you…”

Craig started to speak but Oliver held up his hand. “We’ll take my jet to Rome in the morning. By the time we get there you’ll be a different man. The old Craig will be gone forever. In the meantime, you need to see your children one last time.”

Amanda sat in the high school auditorium waiting for the play to start. A Midsummer’s Night Dream. Her son played Lysander and her daughter was playing Puck.

Craig had called earlier to tell her he was working late. He’d been sorry to miss the play but said he’d see it on closing night next weekend. She thought she was going to throw up. She pulled out her phone and listened to the message she’d received right after she’d seen Oliver.

A sing song girlish voice said “Mandy, I mean Amanda, this is Trinity, Craig’s assistant. I wanted to let you know that I’ve been sleeping with your husband for about two years. He said I did all those nasty fetish things you wouldn’t do and I believed him. I really really loved him and would have done anything but he dumped me for Tara Hall. She’s like the VP of Marketing.  They’ve been doing it since October so he was two timing on me too. Stupid puke. So when he says he is gone on business he’s really with her. I just thought you’d want to know because you seem like a nice lady.”

It was the fifth time she’d listened to it. Each time she’d hoped she’d heard it wrong but that wasn’t the case.

A text came in from Craig saying he had a change of plans and was on his way.

Concentrate. Don’t think about him. It isn’t true. He’ll be here any minute. Don’t cry.

The house lights went down and the play started.

Oliver Thomas stood on the side of the river and watched the emergency crews on the opposite shore drag out a sliver convertible, the headless body of the driver still strapped in the seat. Some unfortunate member of the police department would find sightless eyes attached to a severed head staring up at him from the floor of the passenger seat.

Witnesses said another car had forced him off the road. The convertible rolled and went into the water. It had been too dark to get any plate numbers or a good description of the other car.

Craig wanted to be free of his wife and children. A man should have what he wants after all.

Now Oliver would do it right. He’d wait a few months, he had time and he’d be there for Amanda and her children, like he should have been all along.

 

~ end

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman