Thursday, 29 June 2017

Chronicles Of A Middle Aged Vampire - Part 30

"Nice to meet you Gries, " I smiled back, "But why is it shitty?"

He stared at me in astonishment. " Do I look like Brooks Brothers' material?" He raised those gigantic arms. "Have you seen my teeth? I look like shit. I get treated like scum." tears clouded those odd eyes with their vaguely psychotic gleam. " I had respect. Now I am despised. Feared and despised - but still despised." He wrung those ham sized hands together in a peculiarly feminine gesture of distress. "Despised!"

I extended a hesitant hand unsure of where it would be safe to deliver  a comforting pat. I opted for one huge shoulder bristling with wiry blond hair, rather like a hog's back. "There," I said in that tone that had so often irritated the shit out of me in other people's mouths. "It will all work out, you will see! Chin up, what!"

He cast me a baleful stare. "Listen lady, I been killing, raping and pillaging for centuries, commanding respect - I was a fucking thane! Now I have trouble renting a flea-bag hotel room!"

I was starting to regret this. A lot. On the meat-man's other side, a mushy red face popped out. Popped being the operative word. The poor creature's face was a swamp of red infection liberally studded with huge shiny pus-yellow boils quivering on the very edge of eruption.

"I've had acne for seven hundred years."

Shit. I needed a drink. Or a straight vodka intravenous drip.


Wednesday, 28 June 2017

Leper's Lament

Feverish dream
The shifting
Slithering shadow
The skin.


Chronicles Of A Middle Aged Vampire - Part 29

So after I completed my obligations towards my bitch of a sister - delicious, by the way - I was finally dragged off by Donnie to that damned meeting...

I was so not looking forward to this. Donnie was leaving me no choice. I will admit I slumped in the passenger seat of his tweety-bird yellow car and nursed a pout all the way there.

"There" turned out to be a lugubrious warehouse in the least reputable part of town. The dank and dreary exterior was a contrast to the irritatingly cheery decor of the meeting room: Bright yellow walls, with painted gigantic white daisies with pink centers, and checkered lime green and white linoleum on the floor. Nice...White lights blazed down, supposedly to banish the dark shadows of our vampiric nature.

There was a semicircle of chairs and on the side, a long table offered snacks and drinks. But no blood. Not a drop.

The other members of the group were already sitting, brooding or slumping in the chairs according to their style or nature. Donnie steered me to a chair and parked me, folding his long frame into the seat next to me.

On the other side sat the Hulk, or his paler brother by another mother.

The guy was huge, ugly, and really built. He had long straggly not-too-clean blond hair and freaky eyes.

I smiled. "Hi" I'm Greta! I'm a vampire!"

He grinned and exposed gigantic teeth in a distressing state of decay and a pair of very nice sparkling fangs.

"Hi! I'm Gries. I'm a Viking berserker. I'm also a vampire."
His voice was nice and rumbling, soothing. He extended a giant hand and shook mine. "Welcome, Greta...To a fucking shitty immortal life."


Saturday, 24 June 2017

The Chronicles Of A Middle-Aged Vampire - Part 28

Oh God it was delicious! At the first touch of my lips on her wrist, of my tongue greedily lapping up her blood, Rosa had gone quiet, wide-eyed and dazed - like the druggies you see in their heroin haze, slack-lipped on the metro steps. I slurped noisily, and she moaned.

Oh this was so GOOD! I was about to latch on and really suck up that juice, when a hand gripped the back of my neck and lifted me off Rosa, as easily as you'd lift a kitten from a bowl of milk.

I, however, am not a kitten. I turned hands crisped and extended into claws, mouth wide open, lips pulled back from my bloodied teeth...I caught a fleeting glimpse of myself in the mirror, swollen-eyed and raging in Donnie's hands. "NO!" I was screaming, the taut wiry tendons standing out like guy-ropes on my neck.

Donnie's voice was low and calm. "No, Greta, stop." He shook me gently. "Stop." Geeky, spindly Donnie had a remarkable strength in those thin hands. "This is not who you are. Stop."

I dangled from his hands limply. I raised my head and faced myself over his shoulder in that hall-mirror. The sassy, sexy woman who'd come down the stairs was gone. I looked like a harridan.

The blood was smeared down my cheeks and across my incisors like cheap lipstick, my eyes were bulgy and bloodshot, veiled by some monstrous lust. My hair straggled in a tangled sweaty dark veil, strands sticking to the blood drying on my cheeks. Thankfully, I noticed in passing, not a drop of blood spoiled my pristine white shirt. I had not spilled a drop. Waste not, want not, Mom always said.

Donnie saw the blood-madness recede and gently lowered me to my feet. "Donnie.." I whispered, but he had turned away, was leaning down to examine Rosa's wrists.

I saw his nostrils flare, and his lips tighten, but he spoke to her softly. "It's alright..." He looked over at me."What is her name?"


"Rosa, you will be alright." He spoke without turning his head."Get me some towels please, Greta. Then call an ambulance."

I nodded numbly and walked to the linen cupboard in the downstairs bathroom. Towels were stacked there, neat as you please. Mute evidence of my barren life. Who else had time to color code towels?

I hesitated a second. Top of the pile was this really delicious set of deep-pile Egyptian cotton towels that I had paid the earth for... I pulled three towels from further down. Discount-store stuff in a deep red that would not show the stains.

I hurried back and found Donnie French-kissing Rosa. KISSING?
"What are you doing," I screeched, "Are you some kind of perverted freak?" Donnie straightened up and stared at me coldly.

"I'm cleaning up your mess, Greta. Now she won't remember what happened here...What you were doing." He took the towels from my hands and gently guided Rosa towards the kitchen."Now, call 112 and go wash your face before they get here."

Suitably chastened I did so. I dialed the number and a calm female voice answered. "Please send an ambulance..." I rattled off my address.

"Tell me Ma'am, is someone hurt?"

"My sister, Rosa, tried to kill herself."

The calm voice asked for details, and told me "Help is on the way! We are also alerting the Police."

Police? Ah...A suicide attempt. Damn. A rape, a murder, and an attempted suicide at the same address in 78 hours. And if Rosa blabbed about Frank, the Police might take a second look at his death. I would now have MOTIVE, and I certainly had opportunity.

I went into the bathroom and carefully washed my face. I brushed my teeth and combed back my sweat-damp hair. My eyes were still odd in some way I couldn't define, but since I'd just had my baby-sister bleed all over my gardenias and my entrance, that was understandable.

I was composed, and silently composing a suitable greeting when I heard Donnie open the front door.

I came out and stood by as two men with a stretcher jogged into my kitchen. I heard one of them say to Rosa: "Whot now, luv? Whot yu go and do this for? Pretty thing like yu! Yu goin to be just fine, yu are!" The voice was kindly. cheerful. Rosa mumbled some unintelligible reply in a groggy voice.

"Yu take any pills, luv? Yu tell ol'Barney here, Dunna be ashamed. I know yu in pain."

Rosa sobbed something snottily, and the men emerged with her. Then the Police arrived. Double damn!

One of them had been present at Frank's murder scene as a first responder. Oh, this was just perfect...
Glancing down I noticed some blood I'd missed crusted deep in the creases of the knuckles of my right thumb. Unthinking I stuck it in my mouth and sucked at it. Yum.

Donnie started talking to the Police.
"I came to pick up Mrs. Valginsky - it was her husband's funeral today - and just as we were leaving this lady arrived...Mrs. Valginsky's sister."

The Policeman nodded and jotted things down. He looked up at me. "My condolences Ma'am." I nodded and tried to look as mournful as possible with my thumb stuck in my mouth.

"Who are you, sir?"

Donnie fished out his wallet and handed it over for the second officer to peruse.
"I'm Mrs. Valginsky's sponsor..." He nodded meaningfully, "Hard day, lots of stressors, I was escorting her to a meeting." The two men looked over at me again, then back at Donnie.

"All right then, we will take it up with Mrs...?" They looked expectantly at me.

I dragged that delicious thumb reluctantly out of my mouth. "Schultz, Rosa Schultz." I squeaked.

Wonderful. From ravening monster to a thumb-sucking alcoholic dweeb.
I was discovering I was a talented thespian indeed!
Except that I WAS a monster AND a thumb-sucking-dweeb...


Wednesday, 21 June 2017

The Chronicles Of A Middle-Aged Vampire - Part 27

I ducked into a shower did the soap on a rope thing, then shimmied into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved crisp white cotton shirt. After a look in the mirror, I slashed on a defiant red lipstick, stepped back into my heels, and draped my gran's opera length pearls around my neck.

Out of habit I had tucked my hair back behind my ears, I tossed it free and tousled it. THERE!

Not cover-girl material, but not house-wife/mid-life drab either! A woman with experience, and a dash of classy sass... Yes! That was the new  Greta Schultz!

I was in the hall when the doorbell clanged. Donnie!

"Hi!" I cried eagerly...and found myself looking at Rosa. She was looking the worse for the wear. Weeping and dripping tears and snot in equal measure and exuding a most tantalizing scent!

"Greta!" She whined, "Save me!" And the stupid bitch extended her upraised wrists to me. Slashed wrists, dripping ruby-red aromatic blood.

A surge of heat blasted upwards from my stomach. I lunged at her, dragged her inside.

"I slept with him, with Frank...I...I..." She was crying hysterically, "I loved him! I loved him! I can't live without him!"

I smiled despite myself: "You may not have to!" I said and licked my lips.

Isn't life just wonderful? Who would have thought you could get vampire takeaway delivered right to your door just like Tele-Pizza?


Neglect or abuse do not exist in a vacuum: These start with small acts and escalate into tragedy.


Monday, 19 June 2017

How easily conflicting truths entangle in the dark and sticky mystery that is a human heart.


The Chronicles Of A Middle-Aged Vampire - Part 26


The coffin containing the mortal remains of Frank Herbert Valginky trundled in eery silence through the velvet drapes and onto its mysterious disposal in the crematorium.

The mourners did a sad little shuffle dance called the "weep them and leave" and departed with astonishing speed.

Soon there was only me and Sheila. May had taken charge of her grieving mother, and Rosa had left,  having early on run into a possible source of consolation in the person of Frank's partner...

Once we were alone, Jonathan Stell stepped up and approached us looking sad, sober - and very sexy.

"Ms Schultz, Miss Valginsky, allow me to extend to you once again my sympathies. You will have heard a hundred comforting words today, but none will have been very consoling at all," he paused and took Sheila's hand, "The pain does lessen, my dear, and that dizzy sense of disbelief will fade."

Sheila nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. It struck me once again that we were living in two very different realities. Sheila had just tragically lost a doting and indulgent father whom she had adored; I had joyfully disposed of an abusive, cheating lying bastard who had ruined my life.

Both were true perceptions, grounded in palpable and concrete experiences. How easily conflicting truths entangled in the dark and sticky mystery that was a human heart.

Jonathan Stell turned to me and inclined his elegant head. He did not touch me, or take my hand. If he had the sizzling electric desire between us would have been enough to light up a Vegas neon sign.

Even tear-blind Sheila would have noticed that, and though my daughter was a permissive - not to say militantly promiscuous woman - watching her mother and a stranger groaning and groping at each other's groins in the aftermath of her father's funeral would have been a perverse betrayal...

"Ms. Schultz, I will call you for the arrangements with regards to Mr. Valginsky's remains and the...paperwork."


"You will need some additional documents to present to Mr. Valginsky's insurance broker and Social Security - I would presume Mr. Valginsky carried life insurance?"

"Yes...No...To be honest I have no idea." I hadn't thought of that. "Yes, please do call..."

We said our goodbyes and drove home in silence. "Want me to stay Mum?" Sheila asked.

"No sweetie. You go home and get some sleep. I will call you tomorrow." We did the usual mother/daughter hug and kiss, and the moment she was gone I was calling Donnie.

"I'm bloody starving! And not for fish and chips! Where are you? I need to feed!"

Donnie's voice was surprisingly calm; "You ate - glutted in fact - two days ago. You can't feed for the next two days."

"Are you KIDDING me?" I screeched in fury, and realised that this strange almost-emotion of desperate hunger was not quite my own. My symbiont was demanding supper.

"I'm picking you up in half an hour. We are going to a meeting."

"A meeting?"

"Yes, at the VA - Vampires Anonymous. You have to learn to control that craving, Greta. You must master your affliction, or it will master you and you will become a murderous monster."


Sunday, 18 June 2017

The Chronicles Of A Middle-Aged Vampire - Part 25

Frank's funeral service had been as expected: long and awkward, with old friends from the old neighbourhood - rendered unrecognisable by time - paying their respects in a long shambling line, laying a thick mantle of multicoloured blossoms over the casket.

Thank God it was closed, for Frank's grotesque grimace would surely have haunted the mourners for life. As skilled as the morticians were, they had been unable to smooth the outraged horror from his face, as they had washed away the garish gore from his gaping throat.

As the recent widow I did my bit, holding tight to my daughter's hand on one side, and propping up my inconsolable mother-in-law on the other.

It saddened me to see their pain and to know that I was to blame.

If only I hadn't been such a recent and immature convert to vampirism, if only I hadn't been in such an unstable emotional state, if only Frank hadn't deserved it so much...

I nodded soberly and inhaled the scents of a hundred grieving cheeks, murmured nonsense gabble when being patted awkwardly on the back and shoulders - and groped once or twice tits and rump by rheumy eyed old dorks who thought a funeral was a great place to "score" and considered that a recent widow was bound to be insane with life-affirming lust.

Wise old codgers. I most certainly was. I caught a glimpse of my ghoulish beau in his sober black and a shiver of desire unlocked my knees and loosened my thighs.

Mistaking my momentary stumble, my Sheila whispered: "Just a little longer Mum, just be brave a little longer..." I cannot properly express my shame at the sound of compassion and muffled tears in my girl's voice.

Where was my empathy? Where was my own pain? Was this a peculiar side effect of my vampiric infection? And yet I felt guilt, shame, and pity...Was my complete indifference due to the fact that Frank was prey? Yes. It might just be an adaptation to my new predatory nature.

After all, it wouldn't do to have a natural-born killer blubber heartfelt apologies as he or she drained a victim of every last drop of yummy, salty, luscious blood!

As I thought of THAT, saliva flooded my mouth. I was hungry, I realised, very hungry. I ran my tongue over the fascinating ups and downs of my teeth and confirmed that my incisors were indeed shaping up and sharpening nicely.

My stomach rumbled loudly. I raise my handkerchief to my mouth and coughed to disguise that eager sound.
As soon as the funeral was over, I was going to have to ditch my grief-stricken daughter and call Donnie and see about dinner. Meanwhile, I smiled wanly at one more old acquaintance whose avid eyes ran over my undisguisedly healthy complexion.

This was going to be a long, long afternoon.


Thursday, 15 June 2017

The Chronicles Of A Middle Aged Vampire - PART 24

Just as I walked down the stairs in my new black heels and silky black stockings (was it sinful to feel this sexy dressed for my husband's funeral?) my daughter arrived and let herself in.

Behind her snivelled my hateful younger sister, Rosa- the TRUE widow, if I were to be 100% honest. She had been the one sharing his bed and his life for the past dozen years and more, whereas I had been a glorified housekeeper and child-minder. The very best kind too, one that worked for free!

She looked dreadful. Her pretty, vapid face was pinched, her doll eyes swollen and red, and her blond locks lusterless. Grief was really devastating...I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror behind her and could not bite back a smile.

The sober black slip dress flattered my admittedly full figure, and suited my pale complexion and dark hair. A rich burgundy colour (all natural and with no aid from Maybelline!) tinted my full lips. Oh I looked really good! My eyes sparkled, my breasts enhanced by the push-up bra Sheila had selected for me placed my wounded heart on alluring display.

I took a deep breath, and the woman in the mirror parted her lips seductively, even as those perky breasts heaved invitingly. I liked this, I like me...

"Mom?" Sheila stepped forward to embrace me. "Poor mom...You look devastated..." She paused when she realised I didn't. I looked fabulous, but she had expected me to look a mess. She hesitated then extended a bag from an expensive accessory shop.

I opened it. Inside was a delicious black velvet and lace-veiled fascinator, and large black rimmed sunglasses presumably to disguise my tear-stained and grief-ravaged visage.

I stepped past Rosa's lamentably dripping red nose and placed the fascinator on my head at a decidedly alluring angle. The thin dark veil added a mysterious glamour to my glowing face.

I didn't look like a widow at all. I looked 10 years younger, like a woman tricked out for seduction.
Widowhood had revitalised and rejuvenated me. As had my newly awakened libido.

As we walked out the door to go to my late and unlamented husband's funereal rites, I couldn't help but rejoice in the sway of my hips, and gloat over imagined glitter of lust in a certain Funeral Director's dark eyes...