Tag Hash

“It is called Tag Hash. You add stuff as you go, as in tagging it on to the end,” explained the ancient Vampire Tellias. “I learned to cook in Rome, when I was a much younger Vampire than I am today. Tiberius was emperor at the time. God, that was a strange time. Fun if you were on the top of the food chain like I was. They thought I was a demigod. Oh, I had my share of torrid adventures. Nothing I’d recommend either one of you try, but it was fun.”

Tellias pulled out a large cast iron skillet then rooted around his kitchen for various knives and bits of food. Vampires don’t eat a lot of regular food but we do, from time to time. One can’t live on blood alone.

With his white blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a red apron over a tuxedo shirt with a thousand little tucks and blue plaid pants he was quite the dashing cook. He looks all of 19 years old but Tellias is as ancient as modern civilization and much more civilized. My 15 year old daughter Clara and I were visiting and chatting and having a lovely time in large Victorian kitchen.

Tellias talked as he cooked. “We made Tag Hash back then too. I believe I’ve had this made with everything from chopped mouse to wolf to mussels. Once a group of superstitious soldiers even added the body parts of slain heroes. A bit of human heart or liver that made the soldiers feel special. It wasn’t very good, in fact it was horrible and a bit disturbing, but they thought they were stronger after eating it. Anyway, people used to do all sorts of nasty things. They still do. So, where was I? Tag Hash. Ingredients come and go with fashion but everyone likes to add bits and pieces together and think they have something special. Sort of like a romance – all bits and pieces.”

Tag Hash

He took a few mushrooms and chopped them up, then grated a carrot and a few squash he’d picked that morning. After that he added finely slivered onion and shallots to the mix and a bright red bell pepper. He chopped a small mountain of spinach and Swiss chard together. Throwing in a bit of thyme, salt and pepper he mixed everything in a bowl with a hand full of chopped oysters, some raw steak thinly sliced steak and a slash of white wine.

Next he took out some thick smoky bacon and cut about 8 pieces into small bits and threw them in the cast iron skillet to fry. He said he never cooked the pieces whole. It was easier this way and much more fun.

Throwing a bit of olive oil and a hint of grape seed oil in the pan he added the chopped ingredients and flattened them out.

“One must wait a bit to make sure everything browns.” He said with a sly smile, and then flipped the crispy hash over. Then he cracked a few eggs on the top and left them to cook.

When it was brown on both sides and the whites of the eggs had cooked, he moved it to three plates and we proceeded to the table. He sprinkled a bit of chopped tomato and green onion on top for color and a little zest. The vegetables were tasty, the oysters were done to perfection and the steak was rare.

The dish was served with Bloody Marys (made with real blood of course), and Clara had some spiced Poet’s Blood.

It is a dish that is served different every time because it is Tag Hash – just tag things onto it until you get it like you want.

“I like to fix this around Halloween.” continued Tellias. “I add pumpkin and winter squash with a bit of sweet potato. It adds a delicate sweetness without processed sugar. If I was a Witch I’d add small children, monkey balls and bat eyes, but I’m not a Witch. Luckily none of us are Witches or Warlocks. You have to watch out for them. Always question what they’re cooking, or better yet don’t dine with them at all.”

Long long ago his wife had been involved with a couple of Warlocks so Tellias never trusted any kind of Witch. Come to think of it none of us really trust them or like to spend much time with them. They’re as creepy as Ghosts as far as I’m concerned and far weirder and one can never trust a Witch. Never.

I wouldn't recommend eating ANYTHING a witch serves you. Just smile and say you have a stomach flu or better yet, run away.

I wouldn’t recommend eating ANYTHING a witch serves you. Just smile and say you have a stomach flu or better yet, run away.

We didn’t have any left over Tag Hash but we had some left over hash tags: #taghash, #hashtag, #vampirecooks, #vampiremaman, #modernvampires, #Tellias, #ancientvampires. I’m not sure what to do with them but we’ll figure it out before they go bad.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

I’m moving children off to college this weekend so…. this was originally posted in 2014. Enjoy and eat your hash.

Short Story Sunday: Off To See The Wizard

Druce had just pulled his toasted seed and dried berry bread out of the oven when his friend Morcant came through the door carrying a basket.

“What do you got in there?”

“Smoked salmon, a bottle of squid ink, and dried salted kelp chips.”

“Nice.”

“I see you’ve made your famous berry bread. That will win over the hearts of the coldest stone.”

“We can only hope. I’m paring it with a jar of honeycomb, and a jug of my best mead.”

Druce wrapped up the bread and took a look at his friend. Morcant wore a soft seal skin over his shoulders. His tunic was sleeveless showing off his muscular arms. Today Morcant’s black hair was worn down around his shoulders framing his handsome face. Druce never wondered why all of the women in their village and the surrounding area sought Morcant out even if it was just to look.

The seal skin was that of Morcant’s sister who’d died in the past summer season. She and Morcant were Selkies. On land they were human, and in the sea they were seals. They guarded their seal skins with their lives, for if anyone stole their skin they would be trapped as humans, and in bondage forever.

Morcant’s brother-in-law never took his wife’s skin, but celebrated the fact that as a Selkie she had come to him of her own free will. Her love was free, and her husband was devoted to her. They had that rare true love that so many seek but never find.

One day while they were out fishing, his sister still in her human form, they were overcome by a great shark and dragged to the bottom of the sea as dinner. Morcant, as customary for Selkies now wore his sister’s skin to stay close to her spirit and to have her love with him always.

Druce looked into his mirror and brushed his sun streaked brownish blonde waves with his fingers. He was smaller than Morcant, and not quite as handsome, but the ladies still liked him too. And of course he liked them more than they could imagine.

“So, Druce,” said Morcant, “when exactly did this Wizard guy come into town?”

“Last week, under the darkness of the night.”

“What’s he like?”

“Personally? I don’t know. I hear he was sleeping with his sister. Nymue told me that. She also said he used to stalk her, asking her about her magic and getting all sappy and trying to sound mystical about it. One day she showed him a sword she was going to give to the next king and he said I’ll show you my magic sword. She kicked him out and told him she’d put a bad enchantment on him if he ever hit on her again. And I mean bad, you know, guy bad, like his sword won’t work for a year or two. Like a blade of grass.”

“Sounds like a creeper.”

“A real mess if you ask me. Anyway, that was a while back so maybe he’s changed. Gotta give a guy some doubt that he has grown up since his misplaced youth chasing ladies in lakes and all of that shit.”

“OK so I don’t get it Druce. You’re the Worlock around here. What’s the difference between you and some Wizard dude, except that you’re better looking and are better with women.”

Druce laughed. “As a Warlock, I can, how can I put this so it won’t sound weird. As you know I can harness and control spirits, demons, and other’s who aren’t human. I can’t make them work for me. I also control their evil so that they can’t harm people. I take their energy and do good with it. I can also do other magic and tricks through my own will. I deal with both sides of the world, that of the dead and that of the living. That of the physical and that of the spirits.”

“And what about Wizards?”

“Wizards learn their craft. They are gifted in the ways of magic, but their magic comes mostly from the use of potions, and the channeling of their magic through a staff, or wand. They can scare spirits and demons but they can’t control them. And Wizards are giving Warlocks a bad rap. I hear that in other parts my kind are being hunted down and burned to death. They think we’re minions of Satan.”

“That’s bull shit. Then why the fuck are we going to greet this guy and bring him gifts. He sounds like a freak to me.”

“Because he is working for the King.”

“The Kings is an idiot. He is obsessed with some old cup, and everyone knows his wife is sleeping with his best friend.”

“Hey, I didn’t put him into office. Blame that on Nyume. The Lady of The Lake should have minded her own business and …”

There was a scream and in through the door came a whirl of gray, which stopped and materialized into a woman. She smiled showing lovely white teeth, but her eyes were black and crazy. No harm. Just their friend Milen, who was also a Banshee.

“Milen,” said Druce, as he blew her a kiss. “Thanks for coming. I have fresh venison stew in the pot there over the fire. I put the eyes in there for you.”

She grinned and put a long fingered hand into the boiling stew and plucked out an eye, the popped it into her mouth.

“Hey, Milen, we should be gone just a few hours,” said Druce. “I’m so glad you could watch the baby for me.”

“Ohhhhhh of course,” she said as she went over to a baby unicorn who was curled up asleep in its tiny bed made of soft sea grasses and dried fragrant flowers.

“Alright then, we’ve better get going, if we’re going to go,” said Druce, and they packed up their gifts and went to meet their new neighbor.

The new Wizard had chosen and old Roman camp on a hill as his new home. The buildings were already there and in fairly good shape. It was also about a five day journey from there to where the King lived. Or at least the king the Wizard worked for.

The two friends arrived at the home of the Wizard and were greeted by a tall man with a brown beard flecked with gray. His eyes shone blue like spring wildflowers, flecked with gold.

The Wizard welcomed them in and introduced himself as Merlin, the Wizard. There was something sort of sad about him, like someone who had a lot of friends, but nobody he was really close to. Druce wondered if Merlin could pick up on emotions and sadness like a Warlock could. Or like a woman could.

Merlin thanked them for the gifts and asked them to come sit. He led them to a room where the walls were covered with tapestries and the chairs with lush textiles and furs.

“The seal skin you wear is beautiful. The finest I’ve ever seen,” said Merlin to Morcant.

“This is my sister’s skin. She passed six moons back. I wear this skin in her honor.”

There was a pause in the conversation and a bit of weirdness.”

“Morcant is a Selkie,” said Druce.

Merlin looked surprised. He was surprised. He’d never met a Selkie before. It seemd, as they talked, that there were a lot of things Merlin had never done.

Still they visited and had polite small talk. Druce and Morcant of the village and the surrounding peoples, and those who were not people. There was also a lot they didn’t tell him. When the sun began to set Druce and Morcant bid their host goodbye.

They started the walk home in silence but then Morcant spoke.

“Merlin was nice. Not much of a bro, if you know what I mean, but nice. But dude, he has more demons than you’ll ever have.”

Druce gave a sad smile, “At least I can control my demons. Fuck, they aren’t even my demons. Merlin needs more sunshine, and he needs to divorce himself from his dysfunctional family and friends. I always tell everyone that it isn’t demons that are bugging them, it is their toxic friends and family members that are getting them down. He needs to let go.”

“True,” said Morcant. “Are you going to tell him about the unicorn?”

“Hell no,” said Druce. “I’m not telling him where the dragons are either.”

As they passed a cottage on the edge of a field of grain a woman stepped out and greeted them. “Morcant, will you stay the night with me? I could use your love, and I’ll have plenty to give back.”

“Go,” said Druce. He knew Morcant had been seeing the Widow Cath for few months. Her elderly husband had died leaving her a large farm to manage, a task she did better than most men. Morcant had always been fond of her, but now it was becoming a bit more than fond.

At home Druce found the Banshee Milen sleeping with the tiny unicorn baby in her lap. She’d taken on a physical form, that of a woman of a certain age who had a well earned beauty earned from a life well lived, at least before she had been betrayed and murdered by her husband. He put a blanket woven of the softest flax over them.

He poured a glass of beer and pulled a stool outside in his garden, out under the stars. He could hear the waves of the ocean. Maybe later he’d go down to the beach and see what spirits were among the sea shells and boats tonight.

But now he sat and thought of the sad Wizard. Then he thought of the women he knew and how it would be nice to have one of them in his bed that night, skin against skin, and a special kind of magic that came when two people came together in desire of both the body and the soul.

Then he thought about how dragons had become so endangered due to the trade of dragon bones by Wizards for their wealthy clients. Everyone with half a brain knew that dragon bones powder did nothing to make one’s manhood larger.

Then he thought of women again.

Milen the Banshee came out with a stool and sat next to him. He told her about his visit to Merlin. She said it was sad when one was so full of power and so lost. Then she said she was glad her husband had been hanged after she’d died. She always mentioned that. Druce didn’t blame her. She hadn’t planned on being a Banshee.

Then she put her hand on Druce’s. “Darlin, I’ll be in human for for another hour or two. Let’s go inside and take advantage of that.”

And like any good Warlock who knew what was good for him Druce kissed her and took her inside.

~ End

 

 

 

Musings on Moving On

I’m not special. I’m busy. I’m different. I’m impatient and frazzled more than usual these days. I’m a mom.

So don’t sweet talk me or give me hollow compliments. You never had to prove anything to me. I’m a Vampire. You never have to prove yourself to a Vampire.

That is what I said to the creature who stood before me the other night. I was out with my 18 year old son and we met some people for dinner. Our dinner. You know, we’re Vampires. It’s OK. When we were done with our tummies full and our “friends” empty of a few pints of blood and full of sweet dreams, we quietly headed for the car. Halfway down the alley we were stopped by a stranger, or someone I thought was a stranger.

His face was in the dark as he asked if we were having a nice evening. I took my son’s arm and gave a nod, ready to move on when the man stopped in front of us.

“You don’t know who I am.”

I looked at him in the face and I knew. It had been at least 80 years but I knew him. I can’t even start to tell you how annoying it is when someone from my past shows up when I’m with my kids.

“I know Vampires never forget. And I’d never forget you Juliette. You’re still just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

We made a little bit of small talk. He complimented me several more times. Then we went our ways like ships that pass in the night. Just signals of those who might or might not meet in port one day.

“Who was that mom?” Garrett was naturally curious about the person we’d just me.

“He’s a Warlock. We used to run in the same circles, kind of sort of. There was always something about him that made my skin crawl.”

“He seemed nice enough.”

“He is, but…”

“He’s a Warlock?”

“He was such an asshole. It has nothing to do with him being a Warlock. We had a lot of the same friends. That is all. It is what it is.”

We talked a bit more. Just another night of a week full of annoying things that fortunately are separated by really nice things, like evening with my son.

Garrett and I talked for the next hour about people we know and our plans for the summer and his graduation from high school. We talked of college and the people he’ll meet. There will be new friends. Some will last for a year. Some will last forever. Some will come and go from our lives like shadows.

We came home to find my husband Teddy and daughter Clara watching Lizard Lick Towing. I know, we’re Vampires who have sunk to the lowest of low, but at least it was good to see some daddy/daughter bonding. They watch Bar Rescue together too. So much for Gothic Vampire stereotypes.

I told Teddy about my old Warlock acquaintance. He used to be among my circle of friends a long time ago but we grew up and all moved on. It wasn’t the wrong time wrong place situation. It was just time to move on.

Just like with my children and the end of the school year, it is time to move on.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

This post was first published May 2014.

Cockroaches of the Space Time Continuum

 

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My mother always said, “Time Travelers are the cockroaches of the space time continuum.”

She should know. They love her. She hates them. I don’t blame her.

Mom is one of those scary alpha Vampires. She is always calm and collected without a hair out of place or a stain on her shirt (something I could never achieve.) She can put the chill of death in anyone but at the same time can seduce and charm like no other. She is a predator through and through.

That said, she has problems with Time Travelers. She attracts them like a possum attracts fleas. Moth to a flame. Freaks to her daughter. All the clichés apply.

Time Travelers are like those pretentious fools who show up at a Civil War reenactment or a Dickens’ Christmas Fair dressed in their Star Fleet Command uniforms (Spock and Kirk) expecting everyone to ohhhhh and ahhhh over them and tell them “You’re so smart. Your mother must be proud of you.” It is only fun for those in the wrong costumes.

Aside from inappropriate behavior, Time Travelers are usually dishonest and traveling with stolen technology. Honestly do you believe a man born in 1959 could have invented a time machine that works? He’ll tell you he did but he more than likely killed the original owner or obtained the machine through other dishonest means. More than likely the time machine wasn’t even from this galaxy (most aren’t).

I know this sounds far-fetched, but walk in my shoes for a 154 years and you’ll see a lot of things the average person would never imagine much less believe in.

Vampires don’t have a problems with the concept of time travel. It is the Time Travelers we don’t like.

Time Travelers, as a rule, come along never clean or dirty enough for the period, their costume and language always wrong, trying to blend in and trying to make things better or worse. Time Travelers think they have high moral compass and know what is right for everyone. They have no idea. There are the few honest historians of the lot…I take that back…the honest ones are only in fiction. The real Time Travelers are sick and twisted individuals who go where they aren’t invited and don’t care who they screw with.

They think they can meet Queen Victorian or Hitler or Cleopatra or Bill Clinton and change the world, or gain riches or power or whatever it is they’re after.

But sometimes I have to admit that I wonder about going back in time. I used to imagine what my parents were like when they were young, falling in love in the 17th century. I wondered what the elders were like 2,000 years ago.

Why mom, you and dad looked great in those clothes. How did you manage to get anything done?

Why mom, you and dad looked great in those clothes. How did you manage to get anything done?

 

I wish I could go back in time and change things with my kids a bit. At least this week. I wish my son had told me about the crappy teachers his sister was assigned to this year (first year of high school.) His excuse is that he had all honors classes and different teachers. I wish I could jump in some sort of space/time machine and see how he’ll do in the different colleges he has been accepted to. His first choice right now is a prestigious college on the coast where he wants to study Environmental Science and minor in Music. His best friend is also considering it. Considering it… the boys have it all planned out. I know it will be a good choice, the right choice, but I’m his mom. I have to make myself sick over these things.

I’d like to see how the pyramids in Egypt were built. I’d like to see the Vampires of the Middle Ages. I’d like to see everything I see in paintings come to life. I mean, wouldn’t we all? Who wouldn’t be curious about it. Who wouldn’t want to see the wonders of the ancient world? Who wouldn’t like to see live dinosaurs standing as tall as a house?

 

It is all just a bunch of strange physics!

It is all just a bunch of strange physics!

So the other night I was visiting with the Elders, Tellias and Eleora at their grand Victorian farm house. My mom had driven up from San Francisco (a city with a large Vampire population) for a visit.

She was curled up on the couch in the parlor wearing jeans and a deep purple cashier sweater set and pearls my father had given her at least 100 years ago. Her chestnut colored hair fell across her shoulders, which I could tell were tense. We look a lot alike except her hair is longer and her eyes are more blue, and she is beautiful in one of those stunning head turning ways.

Tellias was dressed in a black velvet smoking jacket and purple plaid pants. His white blonde hair was tied back today. He looked about 19 but he was well over 2,000.

My mother was complaining that she was getting no rest from the Time Travelers. That must either mean that something is happening, or about to happen or else they were just Hell bent on driving her crazy.

“I’m going to stop this nonsense once and for all,” she said with almost a growl in her voice.

Tellias furrowed his brow at her. “What are you planning on doing?”

“I’m going to change history,” said my mother.

“Samantha you don’t mean to…”

She smiled showing a bit of fangs. “What a tragedy it will be when two seasoned time travelers don’t return home.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Your grandchildren don’t need any crazies screwing up their future.” I thought they could do that all on their own. Then I turned to my ancient friend. “Tellias, when was the first time you encountered a Time Traveler?”

Tellias shrugged. “In Britain, when I was still with the Romans. When I was a Roman. They came in speaking their Catholic school Latin as if we’d understand everything they said, much less believe their ruse. Of course they didn’t fare well.”

“What happened?”

“They had come to see the Romans in Britain and expected to find some simple folks hugging trees and a bunch of gladiators. Oh but the wonder in their eyes. It was far more complex and interesting than anything they’d ever imagined. We were all a lot smarter and sophisticated and free thinking than they were ever taught in their history classes. I warned them to stay near but they went off on their own. By the time we found them one had already been killed by the Romans for being a general pain in the ass and a threat,  and the other two were in bad shape. The woman ended up settling in with the Warlock next door. It was a strange sort of love at first sight situation. The man tried to make the best of it, but he died within a year of an infection related illness. His body couldn’t handle the grime of the time.”

He stopped then called into the next room, “Eleora, what was that Warlocks name we used to live next to, the one who married the Time Traveler?”

Eleora came out, rust colored curls flying around her head, “Her name was Tiffany. Tiffany Green. He was Hamon.”

“Whatever happened to them Eleora dear?”

“She died a few years later in childbirth. Tragic, tragic, tragic. I really did like her. I liked her a lot. She wasn’t like the other Time Travelers. Not so much the idiot. Not mean and stupid. I hear Hamon is still around somewhere. Hamon. Sounds like some sort of cooking term. Put the Ham on before you boil the water. Or an organ. Play some skate music on your Hamon dear and we’ll take a spin around the rink.”

“But,” I asked “Couldn’t you have turned Tiffany into a Vampire so she could have stayed longer?”

Tellias shook his head, “Time travel messes with your system. She would have died a rather horrible death if we’d tried to convert her, plus maybe lost her soul in the process. So no, once they’re here they’re well sort of screwed.”

“Seasoned Time Travelers start to get, well overly emotional and confident. A bad combination,” added my mother.

My mother pulled me aside later and told me not to talk too much of Time Travel. She said it attracted them and worried others. According to her it is a nice idea in theory but the reality is so jacked up that nobody wins or really learns anything from it. I wasn’t going to argue. She speaks from experience.

So for now I’ll be happy to time travel in books and movies and walks among old places. I’ll speak with those who are older than me and hear the whispers of ghosts. I’ll have my own stories and ramble on about them (or just keep rambling…)

And I’ll look forward to the future – which I believe will be bright and full of wonder.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

Time travel makes me dizzy.

Time travel makes me dizzy.

 Note to my regular readers – this post kind of fell flat and didn’t meet my original expectations. I did not do justice to those I was writing about or … well, let’s just say my usual rush didn’t work for me this time. I  plan on rewriting this story later so that it will all of the details and feeling you deserve. 

For more on my mother Samantha and Time Travelers CLICK HERE.

For more on my Vampire mom  CLICK HERE. 

For Dancing on the Beach CLICK HERE.

For a short story about Time Travelers CLICK HERE.

Another Note: I’m traveling this week – not time traveling, just traveling NOW, so this is a rerun from 2014, so I guess you could say it is kind of like time travel back into the not so distant past. Have fun. I’ll have new fun and nonsense soon.


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

And just for fun sing along…

Damned Warlocks – Summer, Love, Dr. Who and Ancient Vampires

“Come now. Please come now,” said the quiet voice of the ancient Vampire on the end of the line.

Tellias had called. “What is it?” I asked knowing it could be anything. And I mean anything.

“I’m afraid I’m going to lose Eleora. She is slipping away.”

Elora his love of the past 2,000 or so years. My heart sank. My head spun. I grabbed my purse and drove through the orchards along the river to their farmhouse.

Tellias waited in the dusk on the front porch of the Queen Ann style Victorian. He wore a white Mexican wedding shirt and orange shorts in the summer heat. His long white blonde hair was pulled back. He didn’t look like that classic Vampire but who does these days? Nobody really.

“Where is she?” I asked as I bounded up the porch steps.

He took my hands in his long cool fingers. A look of panic came over his face. “He has come back for her. I know he has come back.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Dr. What.”

“Excuse me? You mean Dr. Who?”

“Who? That insufferable Warlock. Like Dr. What that character who keeps coming back reincarnated or whatever. The guy with the bow tie. I don’t know. I never watch the damn show.”

“Dr. Who.” I thought of the guy on that BBC show.

“What?” Tellias asked.

“His name is Dr. Who, not Dr. What. Dr. Who. The one who changes in a phone booth like Superman, only he isn’t… I don’t know what he is. I don’t know the show but I know who you’re talking about.”

“Oh. Well, no matter what they call him I don’t want him here.” Tellias started to raise his voice.

Well, now that we’re all throughly confused and my head is spinning more than normal. Abbot and Costello are done with their routine for now.

As ethereally handsome and beautiful Tellias is, Eleora is lovely in a way that any male of any kind easily falls in love with her. From John their handsome 60 something neighbor to Vampires to Werewolves and Warlocks and whatever… men tend to fall in love with the lovely and simple Eleora. Unfortunately Tellias lets it get the best of him. While I don’t think she has ever strayed I do believe there have been close calls.

Tellias brought me into the back parlor where Eleora and the Warlock sat under some large fans that once in a Caribbean plantation. The Warlock was stunning in the most fashionable of summer suits, sans the jacket, his silver hair thick and just brushing his shoulders. He looked all the bit of a leading man of the silver screen. Why are these guys always so damned good looking?

The Warlock looked at me with an intense disdain filled glare (Warlocks do that – another reason I dislike them.) “You’ve been under the weather Juliette. Odd for a Vampire. A little vertigo or perhaps…” I could hear a bit of old Welsh in his accent masked by the deep baritone of his voice.

“I’m fine.” I said. I am a bit under the weather with a mysterious head spinning but resent the invasion of my privacy.

“Are you fine? Are you really?”

I ignored him, least I tell him to shut the fuck up or rip his neck out.

I took a deep breath knowing that he is harmless. I know he has been a good friend to Eleora over the centuries. It is a friendship others of my kind (Vampires) have a difficult time understanding, like my friendships with humans and Werewolves.

That said, I wanted to tell him to go back to Halloween Town or wherever he’d come from. I could stand John, the neighbor who’d known the Eleora and Tellias since he was a child. John was a real friend. But the Warlock was a different kind of creature, one who morphed and lived like a lie for centuries, conjuring up new forms for his spirit to pass to. He always looked the same to me but yet different. I have to admit it really creeps me out. Yeah, I’m a Vampire but a lot of things creep me out, Warlocks being one of them.

My head spun for some unknown reason so I went upstairs to one of the lavish bedrooms and sank into a soft bed. I couldn’t stand, but I had to get up. I’m a mom. I have responsibilities. I take care of everyone. I have things to do. But I was suddenly suspended into a spinning world where I couldn’t see straight or stand without feeling as if I was going to fall. Maybe I just needed fresh blood. I don’t know what it was. But like I said, I’m the mom so this shouldn’t be happening.

I could hear them talking downstairs. I thought of when I was a child in this same room listening in on the adults talking downstairs. I’d hear things and store away the information into the drawers of my brain only to take them out later when needed. Some things are still jammed back behind those dusty drawers forgotten and lost, waiting to be taken out one day.

I heard the door opened and expected Tellias. It was the Warlock. I sat up, fangs ready.

“Stop. She was mine first. She was mine before he came from Rome.”

“She was never yours.” I said. “She was always his. It was set in time before you were ever born.” I don’t know why I said that. Maybe from being in the mindset of writing romance stories… anyway…

He just looked at me as if I was crazy or that I was right.  “You make me uneasy Warlock. Go away before I steal your soul and turn you into a husk of your former existence.” There again, I just spat out the words. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my husband what I’d said.

He left and I slept for another five or six yours. In the meantime Tellias called my husband and the Warlock left.

Eleora danced around and sang as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary. I swear, she has become so simple minded that I’m surprised Tellias hasn’t gone insane. But then again, when one is in love for a long long long time those things don’t matter. You love the person you are with and the person you used to be with.

So shall we all start to countdown to Halloween? That is easy when almost every single day is Halloween.

I shall continue to rest with the sounds of the baseball games on the TV and the quiet snoring of my calico cat.

I’ll call Tellias later to see if he is alright. I know he is, for today he and his love are alone.

So anyway, yes, Halloween. It will be here soon. Get ready and please, be careful of witching kinds of folk.

Oh right, one more thing. For the best witching story read “Young Goodman Brown” by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It is a wonderful classic tale that will give you the creeps and the chills and make you smile because it is so beautifully written.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman