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.


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