by Matt Hickman
“I’m still a vampire. I still respect my elders, my family. I’m just different. It isn’t a crime. Why do you judge your only son so?”
I was up against the wall as the last word left my lips. His long hand gripping my neck, my legs dangling under me. He squeezed, eyes glowing red, mouth opening and his teeth revealed in full attack mode. I closed my eyes for I knew that was the last thing I would ever see on Earth.
7
I’m writing this, so you have guessed already that this wasn’t the case. My Father dropped me like a wet handbag and stood shaking before me. It was getting early. The full morning glow from the sun was making its way steadily across the floorboards. Father walked backwards from where I lay. I almost swore I could see a tear in his eye but Vampires didn’t cry. That’s what we were led to believe.
As he approached the beams from the sun, the lower part of his legs began to smoulder.
“Father, the sun,” I cried. He ignored me. How was he not feeling the pain? I guessed the pain I had dealt upon him was far greater.
He looked at me one last time. It may have been my imagination but I saw a hint of a smile before he charged towards the large sitting room window and crashed through it, taking curtains and shattered glass with him. The sunlight burst into the room and I curled into the corner out of its reach. I never heard him scream as the rays destroyed his being. There was no point checking the grounds to find his body, he would have been ash before hitting the ground. I clung to the hem of my dress and wept. I wept long and hard. I wept for days.
8
That was so long ago and there isn’t a day that passes that I don’t think about him. That look on his face. That once proud being, broken, shattered by his own son’s selfish need. For many years after his death, I refused to indulge in my passion for woman’s clothing but it eventually came back to me.
I would be proud of who I was and I would still do my best to uphold the values and the traditions that my Father held so firmly in his many years. I still hunted in the village but I had spread my wings, well, my cape actually, further afield and ventured into the neighbouring town. In that place, people weren’t as quick to judge. They accepted a man in his thirties, dressed in chic clothing and elegant wear. They embraced it sometimes which made killing and feeding all the easier. It was on one of these such evenings that I met Emmaline. That was when my life changed. For the better? I’ll let you be the judge of that.
9
I was leaning against the end of the bar at the Cock and Bull. I’ll be honest, that dry ice really got up my nose but the folk like getting lost in the shadows and the mist while they dance and let me tell you, they dance very poorly. I was sipping a coke and scanning the dancefloor for possible victims. I had changed, you see. I had long since broken out of that every night feed thing. I didn’t need it. I found that, if I fed really well at the weekends it would last me almost a week. I won’t lie that there were some opportune moments, like a new postman getting lost, a cyclist looking for directions or a charity worker collecting funds and turning up at the castle. They were opportunities too good to pass and I would take a good feed from those moments, just to keep me ticking over.
There was some commotion over by the stars. Two huge bouncers were trying to force a rather large guy out of the bar but he wouldn’t let go of his drink, insisting that he finish it first. It was about the only interesting thing that had happened all evening. I moved closer to the action.
“Sir, put your drink down and leave. We are asking you nicely,” said the smaller of the two. The big guy shook his head and tried to raise the bottle of beer to his mouth. He seemed to have a weird twitch. The bigger bouncer snatched it from his hand and was repaid by a fist in the mouth. That was it. The two bouncers rained kicks and punches on the guy. His glasses fell off and landed not far from my feet. I picked them up. At the time I wasn’t sure why.
10
Eventually, it all calmed down and the bouncers came back up, dusting themselves off. I was bored and decided to leave. I left my half empty glass on the counter. The bouncer wiping the blood from his nose stared me down as I passed. The waft from his blood flow did nothing for me.
I had taken to smoking lately, more to mingle with the pub goers than for any great need. I lit up and looked up and down the street.
“Cunts. Fucking cunts.”
It seemed someone wasn’t happy. Just at the end of the street, near the traffic lights and about to cross the road was the big guy. I guess beggars can’t be choosers and as long as there weren’t any vast amount of chemicals running through those veins he would provide a grand meal. I approached, trying to be casual and stopped beside him. The lights were red, there were no cars on the street but he just stood there.
“Aren’t you going to cross? I asked. He turned to me briefly.
“Woman dress fuck.” he screamed but not directly at me. I was shocked. I had been sniggered at by a few fools and they usually paid for it later. This was different.
“Excuse me?” I said, catching the green lights change above me. He started across the road. The street was deserted and I could have taken him there and then and nobody would have noticed but I was intrigued by his outburst.
“Cunt, fuck, dirty knickers.”
I almost bit my own tongue off when he turned to me and shouted that. That was enough for me. I pulled him, with some difficulty, into the nearest alleyway, bins toppling in our wake. He tried punching me but his punches were slow. My hand wouldn’t go around his huge throat so I used both.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” I asked, my teeth itching for a bite of that fat, fleshy neck. He shook his head twice and then jerked it backwards and forwards.
“That’s a wig.. Wig fucker. Woop.” he shouted before catching me on the nose with his massive forehead.
You absolute bastard,” I cried, my own blood now covering my dress.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, woop woop, cunt,” he cried, “I really didn’t mean to…Fuckface?” I heard footsteps on the street. “Colin?” replied a female voice.
At first, she appeared only silhouetted by the street lights. “Colin? Who the hell are you with?” she said, making her way into the alley. I stepped back, weighing up my options. Colin was the buffoon’s name and this must be his partner. I moved back behind some bins, into the shadows. It was easier to think in the shadows.
“Look at the state of you, what the fuck happened? Where did that woman go and don’t lie? I saw you,” she asked, hands up on his big face, wiping his tears. I hoped he would be too frightened to give my hiding place away. How wrong was I?
“Over there. Moonstraps. Teeth Fucker,” he said pointing directly at me.
“Okay, bitch, you have about two seconds before I come over there and rip your face off, one…two…” she said, whilst slapping chewing gum around her mouth. I pulled myself together, my teeth dripping with saliva. I would take her just for the pure fun of it and then I would feast on the great buffoon. I launched myself from the shadows.
11
I’m not sure if it was her handbag or heavily booted foot that caught me in the balls but something did and as I looked up from the ground, she stood over me. Colin directly behind her.
“So, tranny fuck, are you going to tell me what the hell you were intending to do to my brother here and be honest or I’ll kick those pitiful onions another time,” she said. I held my crotch and sat up.
“Do you…do you know who I am?” I said with some difficulty. Colin was jerking his shoulder and shouting expletives at passing cars now at the end of the alley. It was beginning to rain. I felt my makeup start to run down one cheek.
“Yeah, you’re that weirdo that lives in the castle. I just want to know why the hell I found you with my brother in an alleyway. He has enough problems without a freak like you bothering him. Did you take him out of the pub? I went for a piss and came back and he was gone?” she asked, pulling some cigarettes from her bag. Before I answered I
watched as she tried to light her cigarette with soggy matches. It wasn’t working.
“Lighter?” I asked.
She tried one more time, ignoring my question, then held out her hand.
“Throw it”
I did and then stood up. I was confused. These two were like none I had ever come across before. I still had a mad hunger to feed but it was early. My curiosity was stronger than my urge for blood. That was a first. I watched as she brought the Betty Boo zippo to her face and lit up her cigarette.
In that two or three seconds the whole scheme of her face burst into light. Her skin pale, like my own, only pure, untouched by veins. Her blue eyes staring bright against the lighter flame. But there was one other thing. A long scar ran from behind her ear and across her cheek, ending up just above her heavily made up lips. I reached out a long white finger instinctively, to touch it. I couldn’t resist.
“Oww, “ I screamed as she burned me with the lighter on the side of the hand.
“Okay, Colin, let’s go,” she said, pocketing my lighter and leaving me there rubbing my hand. “No, wait. What happened you? I mean this?” I said pointing to my own cheek.”
“Mind your own fucking business, weirdo. I’m sure there are clubs in town that cater for your sort. Fuck all the way off,” she said as she took her brother by the hand and turned left. “Cat pish perfume wiggy wig.” called Colin without turning around.
I kept my distance from them but they were heading the same way as me. A car passed me at speed, splashing a puddle around my legs. The water was filthy and cold. I hated the town more than ever. The car passed Colin and his sister but then spun violently on the road and skidded to a halt beside them. Four people got out. I stopped and stood against a shop window and watched.
“Oh, look who it is, pretty Emmaline and her retard brother. Out stealing and thieving again tonight?” said a male, dressed in sportswear and standing in front of his friends, one of them, a female. She laughed every time the male spoke. He pushed Colin and Emmaline tried to hold her brother back. The female slapped her hard across the face and she fell. The three males jumped Colin and brought him crashing to the ground. They proceeded to rain kicks and punches down upon him while the girl pinned Emmaline to the ground. I had never witnessed such a thing before and it brought strange new feelings to my whole being. I didn’t think for one moment longer and took off along the street towards them.
I went for the female first, grabbing her long ponytail and slamming her full force through a shoe shop window. She didn’t have time to scream before I tore her tongue from her throat and tossed it among the scattering of shoes.
Two of the males stopping beating Colin and came towards me. I stepped out from the broken window and launched myself at them, bringing both their shaven heads together with a crack. They fell. I squeezed the jugular of the smaller one while my teeth ripped and tore at the larger one’s throat. He tasted of cheap aftershave. They put up no further resistance.
The remaining two had fled. The driver of the car., already starting the engine as the other dived in the back seat of the vehicle. He hadn’t time to close the door but I did, as I jumped in and went to work. The car crashed into a bus stop a few hundred yards from where it took off. I meant to kill but I also took the time to feed. I fed well.
I’m not really sure how long passed. I was full to the brim of cider tasting blood and quite possibly some strange tobacco. The car door opened slowly. I pulled back my lips, ready to attack. To my surprise, it was Emmaline. She smiled down at my blood soaked form, stepping back to let me climb from the wreckage.
“Why, why have you not ran?” I asked. Colin was beside her. He spoke first.
“I’m sorry I called you those names…Cunt woop…shit…Not sorry…Emma?”
“My brother has ticks. He can’t help how he acts and this scar? I’ll tell you about it sometime. We have to go. Thank you…?”
“Derek,” I saidreplied, “but did you not see what happened here? Surely you must know what I am?”
“Yeah, I know what you are? You’re a man in bad need of a makeover. I mean, where the hell do you buy all that eighties garb at?”
I laughed. I laughed until my teeth got sore. We all laughed and Colin didn’t tick once. “Oh, by the way, Colin. You dropped these,” I said handing him his glasses.
“Thank you, Derek.”
12
For a few weeks after that evening, the three of us would meet up in town, have some drinks. They would steal a few wallets and purses and I would take a victim every now and then. It seems the more time I spent around Emmaline, the less I needed to feed. She gave me something that I couldn’t quite put my newly manicured fingers on.
It took awhile before they finally admitted that they were homeless. I wouldn’t have it and insisted that they came to live with me in the castle. It was big enough to give them their own space and with a little persuasion, they finally moved in.
That was quite a while back now and I am proud to admit that I haven’t fed on blood in over three weeks. Emmaline, it turns out, is an excellent cook and Colin is quite the dab hand around the castle, fixing things and tidying up the grounds. We are a strange little family but we are happy. And do you know what actually happened that scar on Emmaline’s face? You’ll just have to wait until another time to find out.
Absolution
By
The Slaughter Sisters (Michelle and Melissa Garza)
"I give easement to thee. Go down and rest. Come not to walk these woods and valleys. For your peace, I pawn my own. For your sins, I claim…"
A heavy thud rattled the wooden door. The old woman halted in her speech as it immediately shook a second time, and perturbed, she looked over to the homeowner. "Open it," she instructed.
The wiry haired gentlemen across from her hesitated before hobbling from his seat to stand before the door. The granny woman knew that his apprehension would stay his hand, though she couldn't blame him for being anxious. She reminded him. "Dead the dead shall remain this night, open the door, for it is the living that disturb us."
"Who's there?" he hollered over the storm winds that raged beyond the threshold. There was no answer, only the howling mountain gales. He shrugged his thin shoulders then hurried to reclaim his seat beside the oblong table as a flash of lightning lit the interior of the small shack with white-blue brilliance. Thunder rolled through the old woman's chest as the door came flying in, two shadows stood black against the flashing storm; filling the doorway. The men stepped inside, battered with rain, sopping wet as they entered unwelcomed. The door was slammed shut behind the intruders leaving only the wide-eyed homeowner and the old woman as witnesses to their faces.
"What have we here?" the taller of the two asked. "Got supper just waitin' for us." He spoke again turning to his partner who nodded eagerly then agreed. "So nice of you to invite us in!"
"Light a fire, old man. It's rude not to be hospitable." the obvious leader said as he shed his coat. They were stout of build, wearing dark clothing and the scars of men that were no strangers to physical violence.
"I have nothing for you to eat and nowhere for you to sleep."
"What do you call that there?" the drifter asked, pointing a grubby finger to the rectangular table where a small loaf of bread sat beside a jar of homemade liquor.
"That is for the granny woman…" he began to reply, only to be silenced by the ancient looking crone seated at the opposite side of the low table.
"If you claim responsibility for it, then you may eat it, but remember there are some lines you can't uncross." She grinned.
"That a threat, hag? You gonna sick the law on us?" He came to sit upon a splintered chair, folding his arms over his chest. "I ain't scared. I take responsibility for everything I eat, everything I fuck…everything I kill."
"Maybe she's gonna sick the lord on us, Willy?" his partner laughed, shaking the rain from his greasy blond hair while dragging up a seat from beside the door.
"Ain't scared of him either, Jeremiah. You know that's for damn sure!"
"Then have your supper if you accept it," the granny woman spoke.
"Don't mind if I do." Willy snatched up the stale bread, it was dwarfed in his calloused hand. He winked over at the skinny older man whose eyes never ceased to be filled with terror before shoving half the loaf into his mouth. He picked up the jar, slurping its strong contents in to moisten his meal. Jeremiah looked on in disappointment as his partner commenced to finish off the bread then emptied the jar down his throat before throwing it against the stone fireplace. Willy belched then rubbed his stomach.
"Very kind of you folks to take us in out of the storm." He turned to Jeremiah who scratched the stubble on his face in agitation. "Next house you can eat, partner."
"What's yer name, old man?" Jeremiah asked.
"Thomas."
"Well, Thomas, where's that fire we asked for?" he kicked his muddy boots up to rest on the long low table, dirtying the quilted blanket used as covering.
Granny woman nodded to Thomas who rose from his seat to build up a fire.
"We're criminals, you know. Blood as cold as a cottonmouth." Willy spoke directly to the old woman who sat stone-faced.
"I've met many like you."
"No. Not like me," Willy corrected. "You wouldn't be alive if you had."
Willy felt his stomach lurch, a pain blossomed within his gut. Though he tried to keep up the appearance of being the devil himself, he soon found that sweat was beginning to dampen his already soaked shirt. He gripped his abdomen as it grew to an agonizing degree. The granny woman raised one white eyebrow. "Probably better that you do eat somewhere else, Jeremiah," she cackled.