Moonlight & Monsters: Ten Vampire Tales

by J. R. Rain

  “How old were you, Aaron, when you started to believe you were a vampire?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Was there one defining event?”

  There was, of course, and the attorney knew it, and Aaron walked the courtroom through it, as well. It had happened one day when he cut his finger. Aaron was making dinner for his family. He liked to make dinner, liked to cook. Hell, he liked doing anything that kept him indoors and out of sight. He was chopping onions and wiping his eyes and not paying attention—when the blade went straight through the side of his index finger. It hurt like hell. The cut was to the bone. And there was blood. Lots of it. And as he bled, he just stood there at the kitchen sink, dripping, doing nothing to staunch the flow of blood.

  “And what happened next, Aaron?” asked his attorney.

  “I tasted it.”

  The attorney sucked in some air—and so did a lot of other people in the courtroom. One or two even turned their heads.

  Wimps...

  “You drank your own blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  The lawyer paused and turned again to his notes, and Aaron’s tongue darted out between his canines. Like a snake’s tongue. In and out. In and out. Another bad habit, and one his tongue had seemingly evolved to accommodate, for it was itself now long and narrow. If Aaron wanted to lick the bottom of his chin he could.

  “So what did you do next, Aaron?”

  “I began cutting myself.”

  “And sucking your own blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you only cut yourself?”

  “No, sometimes I used my teeth.”

  The attorney paused and looked pointedly at the jury box. Aaron knew what the look was meant to say. The look was meant to say that Aaron was clearly crazy, and how could they possibly condemn a crazy man to death?

  I’m not crazy, thought Aaron. I just want blood...

  “So, you bit yourself?” asked the attorney.

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Mostly my wrists. But my whole arm was and is fair game.”

  The attorney looked slightly ill. “And then, what would you do?”

  “I would suck my blood, of course.”

  “Like a vampire.”

  Aaron nodded. “Like a vampire.”

  The attorney gave the jury another knowing look. “Aaron, could you please show the court your arm?”

  Aaron fought his initial reaction to rebel, to hide, and instead sighed deeply and unbuttoned his cuff and pushed up his sleeve. He displayed his forearm for the jury to see. Nearly hairless, his pale arm was crisscrossed and dotted with puffy white scars, some fresher than others.

  “Would you say, Aaron, that you finally found a use for your teeth?”

  The young man grinned. “You could say that.”

  “Aaron, could you please describe for us the process of biting yourself and drinking your own blood.”

  And so he did. Once Aaron punctured his flesh with his own teeth, he would draw the blood straight from his veins and into his mouth. Often he would gargle the blood and swish it around like fine wine. When he was done sucking and drinking—or, feeding, as he referred to it—he was left with the most incredible hickeys, hickeys that would last sometimes for months.

  “Of course,” said Aaron, finishing his recounting, “I always kept my arms covered in public.”

  “To hide the scars and hickeys.”

  “Yes.”

  “Some of these wounds look fresh, Aaron.”

  The young man nodded and pointed to two scabby holes just inside his elbow. “Sure. I was sucking here just last night, in jail.”

  The attorney looked like he might have thrown up a little in the back of his mouth. The man, a true professional, obviously fought through his discomfort. “Do you ever get sick after sucking your own blood, Aaron? Surely, this can’t be healthy.”

  “All the time. I was sick just last night. Puked blood everywhere. Looked like something from a Stephen King novel.”

  “But you continue doing it, even when you get sick?”

  “It’s not easy being me,” said the young man, grinning.

  “Aaron, did you ever seek any kind of professional help?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “But you think you’re a vampire.”

  Aaron grinned broadly, purposefully exposing the long, slightly curved sweep of his upper canines. “Maybe I am, counselor.”

  The lawyer looked again at the jury box, his expression almost smug. See, it seemed to say, is the kid loony or what?

  “Aaron, when did you first meet Annie Hox?”

  “When I was seventeen.”

  “How old are you now?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “And where did you meet her?”

  “I met her at one of my jobs. I was working as a security guard in a warehouse. The graveyard shift, of course.” Aaron smiled. “Annie worked there as well.”

  “What attracted you to her?”

  “She was different, special. She was one of the few people who accepted me for who I am. She was what some people would call a goth.”

  “As in gothic,” said the attorney, pacing slowly now in front of the jury box. “As in someone who dresses in black, paints their nails black, powders their faces white, and reads Ann Rice novels. In short, someone obsessed with vampires.”

  “Yes,” said Aaron, grinning at the stereotypical image the attorney drew. “She was that and more.”

  “Were you intimate with her?”

  As soon as he finished asking the question, a woman in the courtroom began sobbing. A familiar sobbing. Aaron didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Annie’s mother. A big woman, she had sobbed throughout the entire court proceedings.

  So much for my private life...

  “Yes, we were intimate.”

  “Did you love her, Aaron?”

  “With all my heart. Like I said, she accepted me for who I was. She loved my teeth. Hell, when we kissed, sometimes she would even lick them.”

  The attorney waited for the mother, who had burst into tears again, to settle down, and when she finally did, he asked, “Did you love Annie Hox, Aaron?”

  The young man thought back to the pretty goth girl who accepted him for exactly who he was, the pretty goth girl with whom he had opened up to and shared so much with, the pretty goth girl who listened to him attentively and treated him as if he mattered.

  “Yes,” he said. “I did. Annie was my savior.”

  “Then why did you kill her, Aaron?”

  The young man seemed to shrink in upon himself, as if he were slowly imploding. The attorney had noticed this curious display from the young man before. A defensive reaction, perhaps? As if the kid is trying to shrink away and disappear.

  The attorney didn’t know why, but the young man never failed to mystify him. And repulse him.

  Aaron was indeed trying to shrink away; in particular, from the horrific image of Annie dying in his arms. Now, from the depths of the witness chair, he ran his fingers through his greasy black hair and looked out across the courtroom to Annie’s mother. The woman was crying softly into her hands and rocking back and forth.

  “It was an accident. I never meant to kill her.”

  “Tell us what happened on the night she died, Aaron.”

  “We’d gone to a party. One of her friend’s goth parties.”

  “What did her friends think of you, Aaron?”

  “They loved me. Sure, I was still a freak, but I was a superfreak.” Aaron chuckled at his own play on words. “It was the first time that I could be me and not have to hide my teeth. It was the first time that I had friends.”

  “You were seventeen?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it was the first time you had friends?”

  “Yes.”


  The attorney nodded sadly. “Go on, Aaron. What happened after the party?”

  After a night of partying and drinking and smoking, Aaron and Annie had left together. They stopped at a Taco Bell, then headed over to a park to eat.

  “You both were drinking and smoking marijuana that night?”

  “Yes, everyone was.”

  “What time did you arrive at the park?”

  “Three, three-thirty in the morning.”

  “Thank you, go on.”

  “But we didn’t get much eating done. As soon as I stopped the car Annie was all over me.”

  “Had she smoked or ingested anything other than alcohol or marijuana?”

  “Yes. Ecstasy.”

  The attorney then reminded jurors of earlier evidence that verified Annie Hox had extremely high levels of MDMA, or ecstasy, in her blood system. “Go on, Aaron.”

  Or, as one reporter would later put it: what little of her blood that remained.

  Aaron continued: “So we ditched the Taco Bell and moved into the back seat and started...” He shifted in his seat. “You know, doing it.”

  “Doing it? You mean having intercourse?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened next, Aaron?”

  Pervert...

  “About halfway into it, Annie had an idea. She thought it would be hot if I sucked her neck. That is, if a real-life vampire sucked on her neck.”

  “So, she asked you to suck blood from her neck?”

  Aaron nodded. “I told her no and that she was drunk and high, and she said fine and started getting up off my lap. But I didn’t want her to get up from my lap. I wasn’t, you know, finished yet...”

  The young man actually blushed, and the attorney silently approved. Blushing shows the jury you’re still human, Aaron. “So, what did you do next?”

  So, Aaron told him. He told them all. And as he spoke, his voice grew stronger and he sat a little straighter. And as he spoke, his teeth showed more and more, flashing brilliantly in the muted lights of the courtroom...

  He didn’t want Annie to get up off his lap. He liked her just where she was, and so he told her, yes, he would suck from her neck. He would, in fact, drink her blood. She squealed and clapped and gave him a kiss so big that it had literally taken his breath away. And as he was left gasping for air, she lowered herself back down upon him, back down into his lap, and Aaron thought he had died and gone to heaven.

  “Were you a virgin up to this point, Aaron?”

  “Yes.”

  The attorney nodded. “Tell us what happened next.”

  So Aaron did. With Annie on his lap, rocking slowly and rhythmically, he had pulled aside her pitch-black hair, exposing the smooth sweep of her delicate neck, a neck that was now slick with sweat. Immediately, he found himself enchanted by the hypnotic throb of her carotid artery. Never before had he drank from another. Never before had he tasted another’s blood.

  This would be another first in a night of firsts, and his excitement was nearly overwhelming. Annie must have sensed his excitement, must have felt it deep inside her, for she gasped and moaned and rode him even harder.

  The throbbing in her neck picked up in tempo. Her slick skin reflected some of the distant ambient street lights. The rapid pulsing in her neck glinted like a strobe light. Like a beacon. Beckoning him...

  He lowered his mouth to that smooth, sweeping, gleaming neck, pulling back his lips and fully exposing his God-given fangs. Saliva formed under his tongue, threatening to spill out of his mouth, and as he drew closer to her neck, the beating vein disappeared from view and so he went solely on feel. On instinct.

  First, the tips of his teeth brushed her skin lightly. At the slight sensation, Annie trembled almost violently. Aaron could feel her excitement, literally washing over him.

  “Do it,” she whispered hoarsely in his ear. “Now.”

  He positioned his teeth over the pulsating vein and slowly applied pressure. Annie stiffened briefly, but continued thrusting against him. He applied more pressure. Now she gasped, paused briefly, but picked up speed again. He applied further pressure, biting hard into her soft neck, his own saliva spilling out and dribbling down her throat.

  She ground her hips against his own. He heard her breathing through clenched teeth. She was in pain. And loving it.

  Finally, his teeth punched through, piercing her flesh and artery. Annie cried out. Blood filled his mouth, gushing in as if he had wrapped his mouth around a garden hose.

  Annie didn’t stop riding him; indeed, she heaved herself against him, faster and harder than ever. It was all he could do to keep her from bucking free, to keep his teeth from inadvertently tearing open her neck.

  Aaron could barely keep up with the flow of blood. He swallowed great quantities of it, mouthful after sweet mouthful. Like a hungry babe drinking from his mother’s teat. The warmth of her precious hemoglobin spread through him, coating his esophagus, his stomach. His lips. And now, some of it began to spill free. Down her neck, down over her bare shoulders and breasts.

  And still, she continued to thrust. Her powerful movements rocked him, but not enough for him to lose his grip on her neck. Oh no. Like a pit bull, he held firm.

  And still, he drank.

  Her blood was sweet and salty and coppery. It tasted far different than his own. He hadn’t expected that. A pleasant surprise.

  God, she tasted so damned good. So perfect.

  Aaron couldn’t imagine a more intimate encounter: two people connected in so many ways. His heart soared. His love for Annie soared. He loved her for letting him drink from her. He loved her for accepting him for who he was. He loved her in so many ways...

  He sat back now in the witness chair, words escaping him. Tears flooded his eyes. He didn’t bother to control them. He didn’t care what others thought of him. Not anymore.

  Aaron’s attorney was standing before the witness box, hands folded loosely in front of him, handsome face somber and bone-pale.

  “But you went too far, didn’t you, Aaron?” asked his attorney.

  Aaron nodded. And he kept on nodding...

  He had known he had to stop sucking her. He had never consumed this much blood before. Too much. And so much of it was spilling out now, flowing down her back and chest, puddling in his lap, soaking into his car seat.

  But he couldn’t stop.

  Making love to her felt so good, so amazingly perfect—especially while simultaneously drinking her down—

  That’s when she started hitting him, beating his shoulders and back, scratching him, clawing him, begging him to stop. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  Not now. He was so close...

  He felt his own blood streaming down his back, pouring from the deep furrows dug from her black nails. And still, he sucked. And still, he drank. She had been fighting hard, but now, she was losing her strength, her resistance weakening.

  She fought him to the very end, beating weakly against his back, begging him to stop. But no amount of clawing or screaming or begging would stop him now. And now, he was aware of her heartbeat growing fainter and fainter. Less and less blood was pumping into his mouth. His stomach was painfully full.

  She’s dying, he thought. You have to stop.

  But he didn’t. Couldn’t. He was so close to climaxing. So tantalizingly close...

  Finally, she quit hitting his back, her hands falling limply to her side, and when her blood ceased to pump into his mouth, Aaron Parker the American Vampire climaxed mightily, powerfully, exploding into her.

  He was certain she had died the instant he came.

  His words hung in the courtroom, echoing faintly, like the sound of Annie’s heartbeat just minutes before she had passed. Another woman was holding Annie’s mother tightly, who now sobbed soundlessly into her shoulder.

  The attorney crossed his arms in front of his chest and studied the young man in front of him. “You didn’t mean to kill her, did you, Aaron?”

  “No.” />
  “You loved her, didn’t you?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “And do you miss her?”

  “Every minute,” said Aaron. “Of every day.”

  “Aaron, do you believe you are a vampire?”

  Aaron didn’t move. Not at first. But then the left corner of his lip curled up, revealing a small section of the mammoth tusk that hung from his upper jaw. The young man nodded, and kept on nodding.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “Very much so.”

  ***

  Aaron Parker was sentenced to life in a high-security mental institution. Having saved the young man’s life, the attorney had done his job and was pleased, although he would forever be known as that vampire’s attorney, something he would later regret.

  A month after sentencing, a sedated Aaron Parker was hauled into the asylum’s dental office, a creepy room located in the far corner of its vast basement. The single chair was commonly known as the “torture chair” by the asylum’s residents. After all, any patient with a tendency of biting the staff was subjected to the removal of all of his or her teeth.

  And Aaron had a hell of a tendency to bite.

  After an hour of strenuous work, an exhausted dentist held up two extraordinarily long canines, both of which would later be purchased by a popular occult museum in Hollywood, where they were proudly displayed in a polyurethane case near the bones of the Elephant Man.

  A month after the removal of Aaron’s canine teeth, a guard at the asylum was found dead at his desk, his neck having been thoroughly chewed through, nearly decapitating the man. There was surprisingly little blood found at the scene.

  Seven months later, the occult museum was robbed, too, its owner killed on site in a similar fashion. The only items stolen were the vampire’s two fangs.

  The whereabouts of Aaron Parker, aka the American Vampire, aka Fang, are unknown to this day...

  The End

  Return to the Table of Contents

  The Vampire on the Train

  “Mr. Spinoza?”

  “If ever there was.”

  “Ah, you must be a Robert B. Parker fan?”

  Years ago, I might have bantered with a complete stranger on the phone. Bantering was one of the first of many things to go. Instead, I said, “How can I help you?”