Sophia hated October. The closer Halloween came the more all of the wanna-be witches came out of the woodwork like so many Stevie Nicks fans dancing around in their long flowing black frocks. It made Sophia cringe.
Being a real witch wasn’t always easy these days, especially with all of the misinformation, myths, and stereotypes.
“Thinking about Stevie Nicks again?”
Sophia looked over at her cat. “Unfortunately yes.”
“I know how her music gives you headaches dear. Try not to think about it, or her witchy wanna-be fans,” said Virgil the cat.
“Thanks Virg. It isn’t just the stupid music connection and the flowing black dresses. It is the way they try to do spells and act like we’re all in some goddess infused mania. I’m an individual damn it. I’m not a cliché. I can do magic. I AM magic.”
“They’re just having fun,” said Virgil the cat. “Deep breath Sophia, deep breath.”
That cat licked his forearm rubbed his face then continued. “Just think of cats this time of the year. Every other girl is trying to be a sexy kitty with silly cat ears and tails. And those poor zombies. They’ve got a serious medical condition and people are making fun of them by dressing up in rags and staggering around like drunks. Don’t even get me started on the bull shit vampires have to deal with. The fake blood is enough to make them want to go on a feeding frenzy just to make it stop.”
Sophia rubbed Virgil under his neck. “Thanks sweetie. I know. I know. I shouldn’t be so sensitive. It is all just for fun. It still bugs me.”
“On a good note,” said Virgil, “people are going to dress up as something really scary.”
“What is that?” Sophia couldn’t imagine what the cat would say now.
“Politicians. Big elections coming up right after Halloween.”
Sophia felt a cold chill that gave her the shivers right down to her bones. “You have a point there Virg. Awwww man, I can deal with witches. I don’t even want to imagine those political ghouls.”
Virgil rubbed his head against Sophia’s arm.
“It isn’t easy being different baby,” said Virgil. “But you’re doing great. It’s Halloween. We’ll have fun tonight.”
Sophia poured a big bag of candy into the pumpkin shaped bowl. The neighborhood streets would be full of tiny monsters, princesses, kitties, and witches. That was a good thing. She’d make sure to send them all home with a safety spell and good dreams of a safe world and a future where they could make a difference for good.
The dogs were huge. The male weighed 170 pounds. The female was a mere 120 pounds. They padded silently behind her as she walked home from the bar.
Mehitabel had gone out for a bite to eat with the dogs due to the fact her boyfriend Max had left them with her while he finished up a job. He’d be back in a few hours. It was odd to call him her boyfriend. It was odd to think she was engaged to him. Everything was odd so she thought as she walked along in the cool night air.
At the bar she’d spoken to some nice young men who’d walked down by the beach with her. She put her fangs to their wrists and taken about a half pint of blood. They’d been scuba diving earlier that day. She could always pick up on divers due to their oxygen levels, and the salt on their skin. All they would remember was the pretty young women with the two giant dogs who’d showed them the trail to the beach.
As she got closer to her house she heard loud raspy laughing behind her. She turned around and saw them. Witches.
These were not nice ladies who get energy from crystals, or read tarot cards, make healing lotions, and try to conjure up spirits from the earth. These kind of Witches were the trailer trash of the paranormal world.
Mehitabel knew that six months earlier the one named Blanche had charged ten-thousand dollars to give a woman’s ex-husband’s new wife breast cancer. The other, a Witch who called herself Tourmaline would make love potions that would cause the unwitting recipient to fall in love, but always loathe themselves for falling in love with someone they found repulsive.
Both Witches wore tacky tight dresses with too much cleavage, too much make-up, and too much bleached blonde hair that reminded her of fried onions. They toddled on six-inch heels, while walking along with their back sides sticking out in an unnatural way that made Mehitabel think of stink-beetles.
“Hey, look,” said Blanche in a gravel and honey voice. “It’s the pretty little Vampire. What are you up to tonight?”
“Show us those fangs,” said Tourmaline.
Mehitabel whistled to the dogs, then kept walking. She could hear the click of the Witch’s heels as they followed behind her.
She took a deep breath and stopped her heart beat. Then she slowly turned around. “Ladies, stop following me.” But the Witches were gone. All that was left was the smell of sickly sweet perfume and sulphur.
A half hour later, with her door locked, Mehitabel fed the dogs, then poured herself a glass of wine.
Love potions. She couldn’t even imagine forcing someone to love her. Then there was the revenge spells, meant to do nothing but harm to the innocent. Blanche and Tourmaline had ruined hundreds of lives and caused so much pain over the past thirty years. She should have killed them there on the spot. She could have. The dogs could have.
She woke with the touch of cold lips on hers, and a hand gently lifting the tilted wine glass out of her hand and put it, and the book she was reading, on the table. Max, the man who loved her, without the aid of potions or spells, smiled at her. She glanced over and noticed he’d put his gun on the table.
In the morning there was news of the bodies of two women on the beach. They’d each been shot once in the head. Their bodies were drained of blood and set on fire. The smell of sulphur and roasted flesh filled the air. Toxic fumes sent two detectives to the hospital.
Mehitabel put her arms around Max and pulled him close. A good Vampire was hard to find. She kissed his handsome face, closed her eyes, and smiled to sweet dreams of making the world a better place.
My brother Aaron called. I love Aaron but when he calls it usually means that he needs my help. I’ve got a ghost in my house who is going through a serious bout of depression, I’d promised to stop by and Eleora and Tellias (our ancient elders), and then I had more stuff to take care of with my daughter after school today.
It can be anything with Aaron. A suspicion of time travelers lurking around, a dried up Vampire under a house that needs coaxing out (or worse), a confused new Vampire, a picture to be drawn, research into the odd or unknown, feline behavior woes, Ghost or Werewolf trouble. I never know.
So I asked, “What is it Aaron?”
“I have a book I want you to see,” he said.
“Can you bring it over tonight?”
There was a pause then, “You don’t want it in your house. Teddy is here. We’re at my office.”
Without so much as a thanks see you soon he hung up.
I grabbed my keys, and the dog followed me. Aaron didn’t say no dogs. As I locked the door the air on my front porch suddenly dropped about 40 degrees. Leaning against the porch rail was The Ghost, Nigel himself.
“I’m in a hurry,” I said. “I don’t have time for this.”
He smirked at me and said, “I’m going with you.”
Fine. We all got in the car, the dog in the back and Nigel and me in the front, and off we went, a Vampire, a German Shepard, and a Ghost to my brother’s law office downtown. Of course if anyone saw us they’d just see a brown haired woman in a burgundy colored sweater and a large and exceptionally nice looking dog in a blue sedan. Nothing special or unique here.
We, at least the dog and I, climbed the stairs leading up to Aaron’s office in the converted Queen Anne style house. Nigel was already at the top waiting by the tall front door.
“You know,” he said, “the front porches are on the second floor because the city used to flood every winter.”
“I know I was here,” I said as I opened the door and my entourage followed me in.
We went inside and found the place deserted except for Aaron and my husband Teddy in a conference room. A large, somewhat old book was on the table.
The dog was happy to see everyone. My husband gave me a smile that would make any woman’s knees go weak, and then kissed me. Aaron looked at Nigel then back to me.
“You brought a ghost,” he said.
“I brought a dog too.”
Right off the bat I realized that my brother had a spell book. Yes, as in Witch’s spells.
“What do you think?” My brother carefully opened the book then stepped back.
The pages were bordered with black and white illustrations with a forest motif. I recognized the artist. “Julian Rix,” I said.
“You knew him,” said Aaron.
“I did. He was quite the flirt. This is weird. He’d never deal with Witches,” I said.
Aaron scowled. “That is what I thought too. They must have hired him to do the borders then added their spells. There is no sign of any magic or strangeness in the drawings.”
“You knew Julian Rix? Holy shit Juliette. How well did you know him?” That was my husband.
“Well enough. He and Grandmama Lola were friends. I was around seventeen, maybe eighteen. You were off somewhere learning how to become a Vampire. Val and I had just come back from a trip to New York,” I said. “From the style and subject I figure the drawing were done around 1876 or 77.”
The text was in an odd script, in an odd language I didn’t know. It was written in rust colored and black ink. I ran the tips of my fingers over one of the pages. Then I immediately pulled them back. Son of a bitch, the words burned my finger tips. The rust colored writing was in human blood. Of course it was. I might drink blood but I’d never be so crass as to write with it. God only knows where it came from because it wasn’t from a Witch.
“Where’d this come from?” I asked my brother.
“A client found it in the walls of a house he was restoring,” said Aaron.
I should have known. “It was Austin Durant, the contractor, historian… oh right and Vampire Hunter. What the crap Aaron?”
Nobody said anything. Then Nigel spoke up. I’d forgotten he was even in the room.
“You’re looking at a cypher used by seventeenth century occultists.”
We all looked at him.
“What? Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I’m stupid. My girlfriend Mary was born in the seventeenth century. We spent a lot of time looking at old books when we were off haunting a castle in Scotland. She knows about all of that stuff. Hey, it isn’t like we had anything else to do.”
Without touching the book Nigel turned the pages with a raised hand. “If I were you I’d seal this thing back up in the wall, or even burn it. Then again, the illustrations… oh man, if you burned this it would be a crime. Why not just take a blade and cut out the spells. Most of the spells are for weird love potions and revenge potions anyway. Nobody needs that shit. There is also a nasty nasty spell on it and a lock down spell. I’d keep away from this if I were you. Whoever wrote this did not like Vampires.”
I looked at the clock. “We have to go. I’ll do some research and get back to you. Nigel, you may stay if you want.”
He smiled at me, one of those shit eating grins of his, “I know I make you guys uncomfortable, but I might just stay a little bit longer and browse through this interesting piece of history, you know, since it burns your precious undead fingers.”
I left to help the elders with some things, and then go pick my child up from school. Teddy and Aaron assured me they’d lock up the mysterious book in a safe place. I told them to burn it. Nigel flipped me off as I left. The dog wagged her tail and licked everyone on the face.
When I picked seventeen year old Clara up from school she told me all about her upcoming AP testing (Advanced Placement, look it up if you don’t know.) Her teacher asked the kids what they need to do to get ready and write it on the board. Someone wrote cry.
We don’t have time for spells, and chants, and flesh burning texts. All I want are the beautiful borders, and stunning landscapes that are on my wall and not in a toxic book.
Spells are like lies and time travel. They change things that should not be forced to change. They bend the will of one person. They screw with the order of the universe. They are false and steal away choice. Sounds like I’m talking about politics doesn’t it. But seriously, you don’t go where you’re not invited. You can’t force anyone to love or hate. You can’t buy passion.
Julian Rix had his heart-broken by a woman who lived to be a hundred years old. He didn’t last so long. The entire story is all too sad for me, but I doubt if he’d been happy with a love spell. It should have been a shallow love, like a shallow grave that can’t hide the fact that someone was hurt.
Anyway, tomorrow we’re going on a college tour, then the dog will take her test in dog school (she failed last week), and then I’ll think of how no spell can being one true love. I know THAT for a fact. Ask my husband about it.
Short Story SundayMonday Tuesday:
I Hate Valentine’s Day
“I shouldn’t be alone today,” thought young Randy as he sat brooding on a rock, on the beach at 5:30 a.m. on Valentine’s Day. His heart was broken. The girl, a Vampire girl he knew he was going to fall in love with had given her heart to another and left him in the dreaded friend zone.
And it wasn’t as if she’d left him, or chosen another college student. Sure the guy she’d fallen for looked like he was twenty-one but he was born in freaking 1902. What did girls see in these older guys?
He was jolted from his thoughts by a “Hi. You’re Randy, aren’t you?”
A dark haired girl in a short black skirt and a long black jacket stood in front of him. “I’m Alexis. I’m in your Organic Chemistry class. I’m a Vampire, but you knew that. I know you are too. Small world.”
“Oh, right. Sure. Hi. Have a seat,” said Randy, glad for the company now.
“I hate Valentine’s Day,” said Alexis.
“Why do you hate it?”
She sat down on rock next to him. “My parents were borderline Shadow Creepers, you know old time Vampires who stayed in the dark most of the time. Nobody knew we were Vampires, but everybody including the other school parents thought my parents were weird. I got picked on a lot at school. I was like quiet and small. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself. I didn’t dare try any of my Vampire stuff on anyone. I was afraid if anyone found out they’d kill my family. Anyway, every Valentine’s Day we’d have to make stupid boxes and bring Valentines. I always made something pretty with roses and flowers and stuff, all pink and nice. I always make a beautiful box, and make everyone pretty Valentines by hand, but I never got any Valentines. Maybe from one of the girls who felt sorry for me. Everyone had full boxes except me. The kids all started to laugh at me. I wanted to rip their throats out but I couldn’t. You know, Vampire code.”
“Sure, don’t show them what you are, no matter what. Did your mom and dad know?”
“I never told them anything. We didn’t talk much at home. But I got my revenge.”
“Revenge?”
“I told the teacher I had to go the bathroom. Of course the boys started to make jokes about how I’d stink the school up. They were mean like that. Always. It never stopped. So like, the teacher said someone had to go with me to make sure I wouldn’t spend too much time in there, cause sometimes I’d just go there to get away from it all. She said that Ashley should go with me. Ashley was the most popular girl.
Ashley started to pout and complain. So a girl called Emma volunteered. Emma was the only kid who gave me a Valentine. She was kind of overweight and sometimes the other kids would say mean things to her too, but she was the smartest kid in the class so they didn’t say too much.
When we got out of the classroom Emma said she knew I didn’t need to go to the bathroom. We walked around for a bit, then went back to the classroom. But we didn’t go in.
“You can make them pay for what they did. I’ll help you,” said Emma. “I’m a witch. I know what you are.” Then she smiled in a way that even scared me.
We didn’t go back in the classroom. The door locked with a loud click. Emma just smiled. The room filled with smoke. The other kids started to scream. They couldn’t get out. Everyone started to claw at their faces and arms. That is except the teacher who kept trying to open the door. We ran to the office to get help. You know, we had to keep up appearances.
By the time the fire department go there and knocked down the door, the smoke at gone away, but the smell of sulphur was still in the room. Some of the kids had clawed out their eyes and made huge gashes in their faces and arms.
Then Emma whispered in my ear, “they’ll never call you ugly again.”
Hey, even I was shocked. I never did a thing. It was all her. Both of us ended up going to another school. In high school I made a lot of friends. They all thought my parents were cool Goths. The rest of the kids are still all scarred and screwed up.”
Randy looked at her feeling sort of numb. “Where is Emma now?”
“She got into swimming. Lost a lot of weight. Turned blonde. She’s at UCLA now. So Randy, why don’t you like Valentine’s day?”
“A girl I liked started seeing another guy.”
“Bummer. Sorry to hear that.”
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the waves. Randy didn’t know what to say. He and his best friend had been the two most popular boys at their high school. Their lives had been happy and relatively care free. Their parents were modern Vampire in every way possible.
Alexis bumped her shoulder gently against Randy’s. “I hope you don’t think I’m weird.”
“No. Well, maybe just a little.”
“Looks like the storm is coming in. Wanna get coffee? No pressure. It’s not like I want to be your girlfriend or anything like that. Just you know, like just a couple of Vampire friends.”
“Sure,” said Randy.
As they walked up to the street he put on his sunglasses against the morning sun. Well, stranger things had happened.
Ask Juliette (Ask A Vampire – Advice for Everyone) is a regular Thursday feature on Vampire Maman.
This week: Woodchucking, An Itchy Witch Situation, Getting Published, and Dealing with a Disneyland Dad. I’m not sure I have the answer you want but I have the answer you’ll get today.
Dear Juliette,
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
~ Tongue Tied
Dear Tongue Tied,
Really? Woodchucks?
If a woodchuck could chuck wood it wouldn’t be much. They have little bitty arms and can’t throw logs like some great big Vampire guy could. I’d say after a hefty pile of kindling, say about a twenty-five gallon drum full the poor little critter would be exhausted for a week.
~ Juliette
Look at those tiny little woodchuck arms.
Dear Juliette,
How do I get my book published? Should I go with an agent or publish it myself?
~ New Novelists
Dear New Novelists,
How about you just start drinking now. Start with vodka. I like it on ice with about three big olives. Then move on to gin. Buy a couple of gallons of each at Costco. Make sure you have enough limes, olives, cocktail onions, and ice on hand.
Make sure your manuscript is perfect and complete. Send it to an editor to make sure there are no errors.
Make sure your query letter is perfect.
Research your agents.
Follow the instructions given by each individual agent EXACTLY.
Send your query to 23,000 agents.
Keep a spreadsheet of who you’ve sent letters to, including the agency name, date sent, and results. Make sure you put expected kill date on your spreadsheet (the final date you can expect to hear from the agent.) Remember not all agents will send letters when they don’t want you.
Good Luck.
Indie Publishing
Go to the Indies Unlimited web site for articles and resources.
Start at Amazon.com and follow the instructions.
Make sure your book is PERFECT.
Do not make the mistake of having an amateurish looking cover. A childish drawing or unprofessional type treatment will kill your sales. Find a professional to help you with the cover. It will be well worth the money.
Write a great jacket cover description – even for e-books. A great description will encourage readers to BUY your book. Think about it.
Be prepared to get that publicity machine going. Promote it like crazy. Get people to write reviews.
Create a blog or web page for your book.
Create an author pages on Facebook and Twitter.
About reviews: If someone writes a less than great review just let it go. Trolls are looking for a reaction. Don’t give it to them.
Note: Do not fall victim of vanity publishers. You should NEVER pay an agent for a reading fee. Publishing on Amazon, B&N, and many other sites is FREE. No charge. You should never pay out-of-pocket for printing up front. If they ask for money it is time for you to RUN. There are a lot of services saying they’ll publish your book for a fee. DON’T DO IT. A lot of people are waiting out there for inexperienced glassy eyed writers to take their bait. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be bait. You can do it all for free starting with Amazon, and many, many, many other places. PLEASE go to the Indies Unlimited web site before you start.
Then, no matter what route you choose go have some cake. Everybody likes cake.
He’d get rid of that writer’s block if he’d just have some cake.
Dear Juliette,
I accidentally bit a Witch and I think that he cursed me. And now I can’t find him so that I can say that I am sorry. Do you happen to know how to remove curses. I can’t take this infernal itching any more.
~ Itching for an Answer
Dear Itching,
Awwww man, I am so sorry to hear that. I like Witches only slightly less than I like ghosts which is not at all. They’re all so sneaky and vindictive. But I waver from my usual political correctness – not all Witches are like that…Oh just strike me with lightning right now because I am not going to say anything nice about them. I don’t know anyone who gets butt-hurt like a Witch. They’re so over sensitive.
Alright, removing a curse isn’t easy but it can be done.
First things first. How in the world did you accidentally bite a Witch? The throes of passion? An unfortunate fall? Trying to get away from the gingerbread house?
But before we get to removing that curse – make sure you rub your itch with Witch Hazel. No puns intended. The stuff works, or at least it will make things seem a little bit better.
I asked several experts on the subject about your problem.
If you can’t find your Witch you’ll have to resort to kissing. Yes, kissing is the cure for just about every itching spell. Your best bet is a Werewolf, on the lips, in human form. If you can’t find a Werewolf then you have to kiss a real courtesan. I kid you not – where do you think cortisone cream got its name? The third choice (it isn’t a frog) is to kiss someone who broke your heart. But wait, you have a fourth choice. Kiss a child on the forehead then teach the darling the lyrics of Scratch That Itch by Ratt. I know that sounds extreme but I know you can do it. The child will have no idea what it means. Absolutely no idea. It will work with your own kid, or in a pinch your parrot or myna bird. On the other hand the lyrics are kind of dirty. So if you know any big babies who are really adults it might work with them. Give it a try. What have you got to lose?
Good luck.
~ Juliette
Dear Juliette,
I am divorced with two kids. My ex is always taking them to movies, restaurants, Chuck E Cheese, and other places I can’t afford. I feel like I need to financially compete for their love and I’m broke! My question is, where should I exsanguinate him for maximum effect? I want to make sure he “gets the message.”
~ Broke Mom
Dear Broke Mom,
I hate Chuck E Cheese with a passion. Disneyland Dads (and sometimes moms) can be so frustrating. If your kids are old enough to “get it” explain to them, gently, without malice, that Dad has more money and until the National wage gap problem is solved you can’t compete with material objects but you love them more than the universe. Tell them that this isn’t a contest and you aren’t going to play. Children know at an early age that if they are allowed to they can play their parents off of each other. Don’t buy into it. They know a lot more than parents give them credit for.
I’m sure you’ve talked to your ex until you’re ready to scream, or maybe you’ve already screamed. As for the exsanguination, there are several options. Since I don’t know this guy’s personality I might be off track. First you can take him back to court and get more child support. That is messy and expensive. You could also tell him that since he can afford everything else that he has to pay for braces, math tutors, AP and SAT tests, sports fees and all the other high ticket items. I’m sure you’ve done that too. But do it with a smile. Be super nice – it will creep him out and make him wonder what is going on.
Yes indeed, all of that expensive fun is like crack to kids. Unless you send them on a crazy insane guilt trip (and you don’t want to do that) they are going to love every minute of the love Daddy is buying.
So where do you do your real blood letting? Anywhere is good, just as long as you don’t do it in front of your kids. Unfortunately this isn’t like the old days when you really could drain him dry.
This is, to date the most difficult question I’ve had to answer and I don’t really have a great answer.
Just remember, no matter what, talk to your kids and always keep the lines of communication open with them. Listen to them. Spend time with them. Be happy around them. They’ll “get it” eventually. In the end they’ll know you’re the Mom and the one who will be there for them no matter what, good times or bad.
~ Juliette
Ask Juliette (Ask A Vampire – Advice for Everyone) is a regular Thursday feature on Vampire Maman.
These are real questions from real readers. If you have a question about relationships, parenting, Vampires, paranormal stuff, fashion, Zombies, art, or ANYTHING just ask and I’ll try to answer. If might not be the answer you expect, but it will be an answer.
Email me at juliettevampiremom (at) gmail (dot com)
August is still here. The days are getting shorter and I am ready for the cold weather. No such luck where I live. Fall starts around Halloween. Summer lingers on and makes me feel like I’m living in Death Valley.
Clara and I were out the other day and I said, “Let’s drive over the damn road and take a look at the lake.” That would be Folsom Lake.
She said, “No, it is too depressing.”
But our minds still fast forward to the end of October and Halloween.
There is something about Halloween that attracts us more than the hope of candy. It is the day of the dead with marigolds and sugar skulls. It is being out in the dark, the unknown, things that go bump in the night, and ghosts in bed sheets. It is all things fun. It is mystery. It is a night when our imaginations are not shunned but celebrated.
So let’s get ready. Yes, you. You need to start getting ready for Halloween NOW.
I don’t mean candy, because I know it will all be gone long before October 1st.
I’m working on the Vampire Maman Halloween Theme for 2015. In the past the Halloween Hotties and the Cut and Color Halloween Paperdolls were popular. Werewolves won the popularity contests hands down, or should I say paws down.
Vampires are sort of on the side lines of most Halloween festivities. We’re more of a deep winter sort of paranormal creature. Werewolves like the bite of the first frost and the crunch of the fall leaves under their paws. They like the smell of damp earth with a flash of an Indian Summer.
Ghosts of course are the stars of Halloween. It is their day. It is the Day of the Dead.
Then there are the witches. Watch out for witches. You can’t trust a witch.
But one thing you can trust… you can trust a Vampire. I won’t tell you how, but just take my word on it. Or don’t take my word on it.
One thing for certain is that, yes, I am thinking about Halloween. Seriously thinking about it.
