I take a long drag from my cigarette. My dog trots into the kitchen to escape the smoke. I lose myself in thought and ashes fall to the carpet. I wipe at them until the gray ash blends with the dark tan threads. That problem solved, I climb back in my chair and stare at the picture still on the screen.
I never met my great grandparents. Julie had labeled the picture as my great grandmother but neglected to share any information on the guy next to her. After what I’d been through, I am hesitant to know more.
Shaken, sleeping is difficult. I close my eyes and attempt to think of happy things, boring things, and even sheep (in a counting way, not bestiality), but every time I doze off, an image of my great grandmother bringing down the dagger causes my hands to rise in defense. Exhaustion finally takes me away, but a re-run of the evening soon presents itself as a nightmare.
Tired of fighting the battle, I rise and fix some early morning coffee. Early morning, ha! It’s only been two hours. Cup filled, I head back to the computer. I remember I'd only looked at one of the three photos my cousin had sent. Surely the other two couldn't bring similar circumstances. I tell myself it had all been an acid flashback and that nothing had occurred. After a few minutes, I almost believe myself.
I return to the folder with the photos. Pausing, I take a drink of scalding coffee and burn my tongue. I had failed to put a warning label on the cup. Maybe I should sue myself. Clicking the mouse, the folder refuses to open. I click again and get the same result. A third time brings no change. I speed click ten or twenty more times in frustration. Still, nothing changes.
I turn the computer off, sit back, and finish my coffee. Feeling stupid for letting a machine get me upset, I turn it back on to try again. The open folder appears on the screen. Very strange, no Start-Up screen, just the folder. Inside the folder, the three photo icons await my selection. I don't want to visit the first one again, so I debate between the other two. Might as well take them in order. I click on the second.
A family portrait fills the screen. My mother and her brother, along with their parents, smiling and waving in the photo. Behind them, my great grandmother stands frowning and pointing her index finger straight ahead, directly at me. The venom in her eyes lures me in. Never have I seen such hatred spew from a person. (I had a girlfriend once that was close, but … let’s move on.)
I try to pull away, but her eyes wouldn't release me. Dizziness hits and I grow nauseated--a cold sweat rolls down my forehead. Swirling colors fill my vision. I shake my head and find myself in a cold, damp basement. To one side, an older version of my great grandmother sits in a rocking chair atop thick pillows, a heavy, wooden cane laying across her lap. The robe has been replaced by a simple black dress that extends down to her black, ankle shoes. I recognize my uncle standing next to her, watching as a baby is held down upon a workshop table. As before, she is chanting and speaking in a strange tongue.
A voice behind me speaks out and repeats her words. The owner of this voice advances and passes through me on his path to join the others at the table, confirming I’m not a man of substance.
“We wouldn't need you if I could still raise my arms,” my great grandmother blurts out. “That damn bullet nicked my spine. Ain't been the same since.”
“It's a wonder you survived,” the man responded. “Unfortunately, my father did not.”
“He was a good man. Shame he had to die that way. Complete waste of time. Both of us shot down and the baby taken away to Ohio. I’m just glad there's another one here. Lucky, my grandson is fertile,” she finished, smiling at my uncle.
“No,” I scream, “you're not going to do anything to that baby!” My words go unheard. I’m here, but I’m not, at least to the others. Somewhere in between, maybe. I can observe but nothing else.
The man lays the child on its back, just as I'd found myself. Deja vu—he speaks the same words spoken in my ceremony. I cringe as he holds the dagger high and brings it down with force to the baby's chest, stopping before penetration takes place.
Miniature energy bursts and flashes of light, dance about—engulfing the man and the child. The old woman smiles and sits up straight as the magical light show surges in her direction creating an aura around her. As she absorbs the baby’s energy, her face grows younger--the years melting away. Pulling away the dagger, the man steps back seeking my great grandmother’s approval.
“Damn,” shrieks my great grandmother as she rises to her feet and tosses off the cane, “I feel almost young again!”
“You sure she'll lead a normal life,” my uncle asks as he picks up his child and holds her close. “Normal, like any other person, no side effects?”
“The child will be fine. I've only taken twenty years from the end of her life. She'll appreciate that as old age creeps up and she suffers from arthritis and rheumatism. And, you'll never have to worry about money. I have more than enough set aside for you. Buy your family a new home. Buy your wife a car and get yourself a new one, too. And, when Julie gets old enough, buy her one!”
A feeling of being lightheaded sets in. After three times, I know I’m on my way out of this place. Blurry eyed, I catch a glimpse of my uncle and great grandmother hugging—Julie being held between them. The adults are smiling, yet, baby Julie is staring my direction and frowning.
I wake up back in front of the computer. At least I didn’t hit my head this time. I regain my senses and see the finger still pointing in my direction. I close the file and light a cigarette, digesting what I had seen. Deep in thought, I take a walk in the night air—staying alert enough to sidestep the Mt. Everest miniatures of dog shit on the sidewalk left by my loving neighbors’ pets.
I joke about the acid flashbacks. I know that’s not the cause of what’s happening. I’ve had two visions, both so real they scared the hell out of me—and I don’t scare easy.
I want to discuss these photos with my newly found cousin. Did she suffer the same visions as I when she saw them, and if so, why didn’t she warn me what to expect? Is she sharing a deep family secret, or just screwing with my head. Could there be subliminal messaging going on? Or, could she really be suffering from a ceremony originally meant for me? If so, is she seeking vengeance?
Nothing like delving into the realm of the crazed and mysterious to fuck up one’s evening, is there?
Flabbergasted, I return to my computer. Back online, I’m surprised by a message from my dear, sweet cousin.
When will you finish looking at the pictures?
“Soon,” I type back. “How did you know I haven't?”
I just had a feeling, that's all. I want you to see mine. It may surprise you.
Snidely, I type, “I'm hoping you’re wearing clothes in it.”
Of course, I do. You're not a pervert, are you? Don’t answer that. Go open up my picture.
I want to ask her questions but decide to do as she ordered first. No sense in getting a new relative upset over a little thing. I hope she will still be around after I do so. Hopefully, a picture of her won’t send me into another venture into the World of Hallucinations—Truth or Dare.
“Holy shit!” My words flow faster than a bad case of diarrhea. It is another picture of my great grandmother. I can tell it is a more recent photo, but she is even younger than before. Black hair instead of graying, no wrinkles on the face, and no sagging chin--she either had one hell of a makeover or I’m in trouble.
“I was wondering when you'd get off your ass and look at that one,” says a voice behind me. Although not as shrill as heard previously, I know it to be that of my great grandmother. I turn my chair to face her.
“By the way, Julie sends her regards. She was happy to see I'd found you. Julie's been a big help. You know, she had four boys—three for me and one for her to replace the years she'd lost. She couldn't wait to get those back. I don't think she'd have agreed if she didn't hold such a grudge against you for getting off so easy. She doesn't think I'd have taken the years from her if I had gotten yours to begin with. Naive, sh
e is, but very fertile.”
I try to respond but my arms and legs refuse to obey my commands to strangle the bitch. Even my mouth is frozen. Only my eyes are allowed movement. I’m stuck sitting here listening to her prattle.
“I think I look pretty good for my age. Those eighty years I stole from Julie and her family helped the cause tremendously,” she snickered. “You look like you could use a few extra years. Getting old, aren't you? Already retired? My, my, it's going to be fun to see how bad you look in a few minutes when I'm done.”
Prancing around the room, her happy mood is surreal. I can tell sadism is at the top of her list of things to do when bored. She's damn good at it!
“I can see you're confused. Let me explain. Magic is energy, just like electricity, or electrical impulses if you will. Wherever those travel, so can magic. All I have to do is cast a spell and catch a ride on those impulses to wherever I want to go. I save so much money on plane fair it’s not funny.
Anyway, the spell cast on you was interrupted, but not ended. Spells stay active until the spellcaster ends them. So, to take twenty years of your life, all I have to do is hold up a dagger up high, like this, and bring it down close to your chest, like this!”
The loud crackling of the magical energy engulfing me fills my ears and causes every hair on my body to straighten. My strength is being drained and my muscles ache. Fingers used for typing are now crooked and gnarly, throbbing with arthritis.
The woman before me grows younger. Age disappears as her clothes hang from a now slender frame. Sagging boobs and ass reverse time and rise to once known stages of glory. If she hadn’t had been my great grandmother, I would say she was one hot lady. Sadly, I’ve grown too old for male supplements to help me with her had I been perverted enough to do so.
“See, you really didn't escape me, no one does. No, you only postponed the inevitable. I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got things to do and places to see. Ciao!”
Without a flash or magical mist, she disappears.
I push myself up from my chair and find standing to be difficult. My knees are weak and buckle under my weight. Stumbling from chair to chair, I make my way to the adjoining hall. In front of my entry mirror, I see an older man there, one with thinning hair and brown age spots, breathing heavily from his short journey.
* * * * *
Two hours have passed since her visit. The aches and pains remain, and typing is an agonizing chore. But, I must get this message out. A warning that must be heeded.
I know I should have used my logic and not answered her first message. That knowledge does nothing for me, now. I made a mistake, a huge one, and am paying the price.
I'm weary and need sleep. Maybe, I'll wake up and be the man I was before her arrival. Maybe, this has all been a bad dream. Maybe, maybe not. I'll know when I awaken.
Maybe, I’ll dream of humping my great grandmother. God, help me!
* * * * *
“Doesn’t that one make you want to imagine your great grandmother wearing Spandex?”
I laughed. Sometimes, Gabriela did come out with a remark that hit home. Not often, but sometimes. “Did you ever meet your great grandmother?”
“Are you kidding? Can you imagine the family tree of a cat? Sometimes, we have a hard time knowing who our mothers are. One minute it’s dark and the next minute you’re grabbing hold of a nipple and doing your best to keep the other five kittens from taking it away. It’s a strange life, or lives, as the case may be. But, no stranger than the story I’m getting ready to tell you. This next one isn’t in chronological order, but I thought you might like to hear it. It had everybody talking in Hell. You humans may be getting ready to see what strange really is.”
The Sun Rises:
A Vampire's Goodbye
I wish to end my time on this planet. I'm tired, too tired to see the cycles of human ignorance and reprehensible rulers repeat themselves once more.
In my early years as a vampire, I earned a strong reputation for being ruthless and unmerciful. As the Master demanded much of me, his second in command, I rose to his expectations and created great fear of our kind in the lands I journeyed. Fear is a mighty weapon, one that controls actions and dictates results. I found it to be my friend on many occasions. Wherever I roamed, cowardly men filled with apprehension and shaking with fear--carrying hammers and sharpened, wooden stakes-- followed. Except for the foolhardy, all whispered prayers they'd not find me. No answers, had they, to my battle my ability to hypnotize prey, engage shapeshifter skills, and utilize exceptional speed to escape their fumbling attacks and destroy them with my own. I was the superior being—always victorious.
Yes, there was the oaf called Van Helsing—a small and boring fellow—whose group ended the lives of many I had created. Surprisingly, the Master became one of his victims during their efforts to annihilate us who rule the darkness. But, that is a story that has been told too often and revised each time today's movie industry decides to spice up the event with newly invented special effect techniques.
The Master's death didn't put an end to his primary goal. Many times, we had sat discussing the odds of vampires dominating the world. It made little sense to allow men to rule with their feeble brains. Our intelligence—cultivated and fertilized by centuries of witnessing mankind's foolish acts—elevated us to a greater understanding of how to achieve success and allow all to profit. We had agreed, world domination by vampires would be the future.
We faced a major problem—our numbers were too few to guarantee success. We had to increase our efforts to bring more into the fold. The conflict stemmed from us refusing to lower the standard of excellence we exhibited by taking the common fools from the streets. We must require it be mandatory to bring in only those who demonstrate extreme intelligence and bravery. Only by doing so could we keep from making the mistakes that could end us, instead.
These types of individuals weren't only hard to locate but convincing them of our goals was difficult and most dangerous. Many balked at our ideas, choosing instead to do battle or force us to hypnotize prior to changing to avoid their injury. The intelligent performed satisfactorily under hypnosis—happy with a purpose to fulfill. But, too many of the brave warriors chose suicide by sunlight as their allegiance to God and country was more honorable to them than existing as a creature of the night.
After the death of the Master, I made the decision to concentrate only on the intelligent prospects. Men of logic became the avenue of dreams for our future. I used those already in the fold to seek out scholars—those who could recognize the benefit of having intelligence and the experience of centuries. Logical humans, they spent much time studying the options and consulting one another before making decisions. It was a long and tedious process. Yet, I believed it better to spend time with those who wanted to be a part of what we offered than waste time on those who didn't.
Regretfully, I must own up to my mistake. Ultimately, these were men of little action and too much thought. Although meticulous in choosing proper candidates, many were so focused they went without food for days on end during their quests to gain quality members. Among the living, this is but a minor problem to which they were accustomed. But, among vampires, it is act that has terrible results.
Blood frenzy, a malady from which we suffer—very similar to a shark feeding frenzy in which the urge to sate one's quest for food ignoring all else—was witnessed more often than ever before. When our hunger is not sated, the brain becomes obsessed with the smell of blood. Any by-passer qualifies as a food source and animal instinct takes control of all actions. The vampire cares not who his victim may be, nor how crowded the area. Thus, attacks in public take place, leaving the vampire in a precarious position open to retaliation by observers—often resulting in the vampire's demise. Humans had little mercy on a creature of the night drinking the blood of one of their neighbors.
I found this frustrating. Intelligent soldiers falling victim to blood frenzy was unacceptable. Even the children tha
t some of our group had turned were taught how to avoid it. Cats, dogs, rats, and other animals weren't as tasty but could delay the blood frenzy until a better time presented itself. However, despite my constant warnings, these episodes continued, unheeded by those with intelligence, but no common sense.
My commands being ignored by these idiots caused others to laugh at me for coddling their disobedience. Ours is not a society of choice, but of following orders. Lack of respect for my leadership would not be tolerated. I had been too patient, expecting them to change, but with no penalty for those that refused. Outraged, I sent out correspondence for all to cease pursuits immediately and meet with me one month from the date of my writing. No exceptions!
As that night arrived, I found most were present. I ordered my most experienced members to seek out those absent and eliminate them from our ranks by tearing out their hearts. One of the newer, more intelligent members I had selected, dared to question my order by stating they might have a valid reason for not being present. I walked over to him, put my arm across his shoulders, and ripped off his head. As the others sat with mouths open, I vented my fury and tore his lifeless limbs from his torso. “This is what happens when you question my authority,” I roared. “If you wish to live, you will do as I demand. Are there any questions?”
One fool dared to open his mouth. His head and limbs joined the others on the floor.
“There are no questions when I make a demand. Is that understood?”
Silence. My point had been made. I then reinforced my previous warnings against blood frenzy with a threat of similar consequences should my warnings be ignored. Testing them, I asked once more, “Are there any questions?” Their silence indicated they had listened. With no other purpose to hold them, I ended the meeting and sent them on their way.
I sat in the meeting chamber, staring at the remains of the two I had dismantled. I questioned how long the fear I had instilled would last, and how many would soon ignore me and do as before. Fear needed constant reinforcement, not easily accomplished before the age of modern communication tools. There had to be another answer, one that would be more effective in making my leadership and commands unchallenged.
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