by

Published by

Little Prince Publishing

Copyright © Death Calls by Courtney Vail
Published by Little Prince Publishing
Cover Design: Amy Rooney
Cover Photo: istock

Font: Bleeding Cowboys, commercial license acquired
First Smashwords Edition, 2011

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, scanning or other—except for brief quotations in reviews or articles, without written consent from the publisher.

Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

License Note: This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Each piece in this collection touches on life’s journey, death or dying in Courtney Vail’s own freakish way. Some works are quirky, some funny, some gross, some resonating, but all pretty weird. Enjoy!

Carousel ~ a short story

The Chill ~ a villanelle

Songs to Avoid on American Idol ~ a poem

No Flowers ~ short story

Forgotten You ~ a sonnet

Life in Paris ~ a short story

Time ~ a haiku

Creative Burst ~ a poem comprised from search terms from blog visitors

That Look ~ flash fiction

Sweet Justice ~ 55er, a story structure that descends from ten words to one

Excerpt from Kings & Queens

Meet the Author

Though the cherry chip cupcakes topped with pink icing and sprinkles—not the sugar crystals, but the little ball ones that come in five colors and crunch when you bite ‘em—tempted her from the game table, gobbling one would have to wait. The birthday freak-show about to unfold in the leisure room of her mansion would surely be more delicious anyhow.

Aubrina grinned devilishly. Her unsuspecting pajama-clad friends were right where she wanted them: Holly flat on her back, Madison and Claire kneeling at Holly’s sides, Evie at her feet. They waited with fingers underneath Holly, preparing to hoist.

Aubrina had chosen the red-headed, freckly Holly as the mock-corpse … because she was the meatiest and the homeliest. Definitely harder to raise. Definitely the most hilarious imagining up in the air.

She knelt down at Holly’s head. “We can begin.”

Her twelve-year-old guests all giggled from nervousness or silliness. Aubrina figured silliness. Of course. The fools had no idea what to expect, but obviously they assumed this was some kind hoax or child’s play. They’d soon learn it wasn’t.

“Come on, guys, stop laughing. This is serious. It won’t work if we’re goofing off.” Buzzing with anticipation, Aubrina added, “Now … close your eyes and concentrate.”

When they obeyed and adopted gravity, she beamed, admiring her authority over them. She was, after all, the only one thirteen. She noticed Evie peeking with one eye open and her bottom lip quivering. “Come on, Evie, stop being a baby. You’ll spoil it.”

All eyes popped open.

“I’m not so sure about all this,” Evie bleated.

Why’s she scared? Aubrina squinted at her, wondering if she knew. She couldn’t possibly. “It’s my birthday party. This is what I want to do. Do it, or go home!”

Evie tucked her black hair behind her ears with shaky hands and wheezed, “But, it’s two in the morning.”

“Right! No one can take you home now. Looks like you’re doin’ it then.” Annoyed that everyone was delaying the fun, she barked, “Come on! Stop breaking the circle. Now we have to hold hands again to draw in good energy.”

When the players held hands and closed eyes, Aubrina nodded in approval. The stage was perfectly set. The lights glowed dimly. The pillows lay scattered like headstones. Her parents slept soundly in the east wing. Even a full moon lit the night sky. Everything was perfect … except for the absence of rumbling thunder and flashing lightning, which would’ve added tremendously cool atmosphere.

The only unsettling thing was the eye staring back at her. Glossy and black, evil and crazed, nearly glaring in disapproval. The dusty, old carousel unicorn she’d drudged up from the basement for charity seemed to ogle from the corner where it had been standing erect all week, awaiting pickup. Aubrina wasn’t especially charitable, but her parents left her in charge of cleaning out the basement to make space for the home theater she wanted. The stupid, colored catastrophe with its twisted golden spike had been a gift from them on some past birthday. The sixth one maybe. Why’d I want it? She’d begged for it but had hardly touched it since the initial gasp of surprise. It was large enough to sit on, but she’d never done so. Can’t remember. Oh well. Now it can clutter up some other kid’s basement. She couldn’t wait for the creepy thing to disappear. Especially now.

Hopefully, Sarah wouldn’t mind it. She was sensitive. Aubrina should have considered that, but it was too late to move the carnival reject now.

Aubrina shrugged. “Okay. Let’s begin. Concentrate and believe. Everyone repeat after me … Light as a feather. Stiff as a board.”

After they chanted, “Light as a feather. Stiff as a board … Light as a feather. Stiff as a board,” for a couple of minutes, Aubrina muttered, “Now, raise her up as we say it.”

The girls easily lifted Holly about a foot off the carpet and cheered their success.

“You did it,” said Holly from her bed of fingers.

“No. The spirits are here,” Aubrina whispered with her gaze roaming. “I’ll prove it. Lift her some more.”

Evie started to quiver and cry. “Stop it,” she sobbed. “Please. This doesn’t feel right.”

“Shut up, Evie. Or you’ll make them leave. Lift her, I said.”

Aubrina smiled as the twits inched Holly up until she was over all their heads. Aubrina lavished the astonishment and awe of her friends, except Evie, who was still shaking.

“Guys,” Madison shrieked. “Her weight’s off me. Look.” Madison lowered her hands from Holly’s side with palms outstretched, fingers wiggling.

All hell broke loose. Screams erupted as everyone let go of Holly, who remained stuck in the air, held there on some invisible platform, despite all her squealing and flailing and kicking. She pretty much resembled a trapped pig.

Definitely hilarious up in the air. Aubrina burst out laughing as Madison tried to help Holly. Even with all the grunting and groaning, pulling and tugging, she wouldn’t budge.

Best birthday present ever. Sarah had definitely delivered the spookfest she’d promised.

“Okay, that was awesome. You’re so cool, Sarah. Let her down.” Aubrina expected Holly to drop like a side of cow, but she stayed where she was. And stayed.

Aubrina cringed.

It should have been funny, a joke on them all, but the lack of lowering began to feel eerie. Aubrina’s arm hair stretched for the heavens in tingly goose-bumps. “Sarah, put her down!” It’s not supposed to be like this. Sarah said she’d scare the guests, frighten them a little. She knew what this was. She’d wanted it, planned for it, begged for it. So why couldn’t she keep her teeth for chattering?

The lights flickered. The neglected piano played. A biting chill slithered into the room. Unable to see Sarah, not even as indigo mist, Aubrina shivered, more from terror than heat’s descent. She could sense Sarah’s fury.

Sarah spun Holly spun around and around like a record. Holly screamed and wailed in terror. The girls ran and hid wherever they could find cover. Aubrina knew there was no place to hide. They’d just have to wait out Sarah’s tantrum.

“I knew something bad would happen,” Evie bleated. “I told you.”

“Shhh. Quiet. She’s never this bad.”

Aubrina and her guests bellowed when Holly zipped across the room into some unseen wall.

Holly levitated above the unicorn until invisible hands jerked her down onto the horn with tremendous force, impaling her through the upper back before crashing the hideous thing to the floor.

Aubrina couldn’t believe her eyes. A bloody horn stuck out of Holly’s tainted chest.

Holly’s eyes widened to saucers. Her mouth remained agape, frozen with a scream that never found voice. Her body convulsed and then ceased moving, leaving her in a ragdoll slump.

It was the most gory sight Aubrina had ever seen … but also just a little bit cool.

As Sarah departed the game room with a door slam, the draft followed.

The girls ran up to Holly shrieking. Claire puked and peed on the carpet as Madison grabbed Holly and shook her, sobbing for her to still be alive, even though she was clearly in some hereafter.

A shudder shook Aubrina from shoulders to knees. Apparently Sarah hates unicorns … or redheads.

The lights stopped flickering. The concerto ended in the off-key high notes. But the screams persisted, Aubrina’s especially. Not only had she witnessed her friend’s demise in a most gruesome way, but she was also quite peeved that her pretty, pink cupcakes now bore sprinkles of blood. I’m never ever asking for presents again … Not ever.

Though warmth of sun doth not end nights

As haunting voice springs from the tomb

Love's whispers break the chill that bites

My broken wings don't soar in flights

At dawn you come and fill my room

Though warmth of sun doth not end nights

You raise me up to higher heights

Replace my frost with heat in womb

Love's whispers break the chill that bites

Your presence here rids all my frights

The darkness fades along with gloom

Though warmth of sun doth not end nights

Fret not, my love, the call to lights

Find warmth inside, beyond the doom

Love's whispers break the chill that bites

I'll miss your touch, these hints and sights

But peace has now become my groom

Though warmth of sun doth not end nights

Love's whispers break the chill that bites

Hello
Imagine
Yesterday
I Am I Said
Dust in the Wind
Welcome to My Life
The Long and Winding Road

I Feel So
Like a Virgin
Cherry Pie
I'm Too Sexy
Born to be Wild
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
(You Gotta ) Fight For Your Right (to Party)
It's My Life

I Drove All Night
I Want Your Sex
Eight Days a Week
Time After Time
Any Way You Want It
All I Want Is You
Faithfully

I'm On Fire
Burning Love
Outta My Head
Hungry Like the Wolf
Crazy for You
My Immortal
Desire

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Livin La Vida Loca
It's All Wrong, But It's All Right
Is This Love
Love Bites
Love Is A Battlefield
Fallin'
Going Under
Bring Me to Life

Devil Inside
Highway to Hell
Some Like It Hot
Inside the Fire
I Have Nothing
Total Eclipse of the Heart
Smashed Into Pieces
Helplessly Hoping

I Wanna Know What Love Is
Wake Me Up Before You Go Go
How Do I Live
My Life
Good Enough
Empty Me
Save a Prayer
Pour Some Sugar on Me

A Change is Gonna Come
Karma Chameleon
Today
Macarena
Shake Your Love
Shout to the Lord
Dare You to Move

I Believe
I'm a Believer
Travelin' Thru
The Greatest Love of All
Jesus Christ Superstar
A Perfect Love
Love of a Lifetime
Stairway to Heaven

Tomorrow
I'll Fly Away
High Enough
Inside Your Heaven
To Be With You
Forever
Always
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

As soon as I exit my house and step into the sunshine, I gasp.

Wearing a patchwork sunhat, fuchsia daisy flip-flops and pantaloons, Mrs. Davenport is spraying rainbows on the brown zone of nothingness uglifying her otherwise perfectly manicured yard. Why someone fortyish would risk being mistaken for seventy is beyond me, but that's so not the shocker.

The lack of flowers is what leaves my mouth open like it is. I mean, not even one sprouting bud decorates the spot where previously no dog, kid or rabbit could come within feet of without getting hosed. Now, I know I'm only fifteen and supposedly don't know squat, but I swear she has a corpse buried in that bloomless bed.

She twists the spigot increasing the flow, then sees me and waves. “Hidey-ho, Kylie.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Davenport,” I reply with my eyelids sinking into a squint.

My suspicion arose two nights ago, when Bobby and I were on my tree house balcony watching the sun set. It wasn't customary for us to be up there dressed so nice, but we were waiting for my mom to get off the phone and bring us to a dance. I kept eyeing my red gown. Way too much lace and sequins. And definitely more tomato than scarlet. Gross! I should've gone with the simple, sky blue one I'd adored, with the spaghetti straps, but it went beyond my $80 price cap. Regrettably, in the travesty I bought, I appeared far more gypsy than diva. Definitely not the look I was going for. Florescent lights lie; that's all I have to say. The seventeen bucks extra would have been worth it.

Bobby, my best friend since preschool, didn't seem to care about my orangey mega-frill, and I could tell because he'd tried to kiss me. After telling me I looked hot, he leaned closer and gazed into my eyes. Delighted, I moved in too. I'd never been so near to the freckles on his nose without a football between us. Our lips almost touched, but the sound of a crash halted our magnetic pull.

Bummer! Our neighbors again.

They always fought. Yelling and slamming doors were familiar echoes on the street, but this battle raged on a much grander scale. Even the normally unfazed dogs in the vicinity voiced their agitation.

After hearing trash talk about money and whose things were whose, between the cars and the winter home to where they migrate when frost bites their noses, Mrs. Davenport released a blood curdling scream.

She shouted, “Frank! Don't you dare!” as she ran onto her or his enclosed porch. I'm not sure who actually owns it. Anyway, he followed her and threw a television in her direction. Not a big one … just a thirteen inch. She was able to dodge it, but it tore through the screen and smashed on the driveway into like a million pieces. She went ballistic, flailing her arms and hollering words I shouldn't repeat, but she looked pretty ridiculous in her pink, fuzzy robe with green goop on her face. A little hard to take seriously in that state.

He apparently thought so too. He howled in laughter.

She snatched a broom, which was pitched against the wall, and swung at him, but he ducked, grabbed it from her and twisted her around. He held it against her neck threatening to choke the life out of her. He said he should beat her with it, then maybe she'd be more obedient. She started laughing. So did he.

She turned around, and he lowered the broom and held it against her back vertically. She looked like she was in the middle of a tripod, but she didn't seem to mind being trapped. She kissed him on the lips, and he reciprocated and let the broom fall to the floor. They started mauling one another, and his face became goopified too before he picked her up and carried her in.

Yeah. Yeah. Anyone would assume they had sex, and maybe they did … but that was the last time I saw Mr. Davenport. I haven't heard fighting since. Not even one slammed door. He's always coming and going, but there’s his car, right in the driveway, and so is hers. They haven't moved one inch. And the newspapers he reads every day are collecting on the stoop. I'd bet today's makeout session with Bobby, she choked the life out of him with that broom. Looks to me like she now has everything to her name except her beloved garden.

“What happened to your flowers, Mrs. Davenport? I thought the begonias, tulips and such were your babies?”

“I got sick of 'em,” she says, watering the grave with the biggest smile I'd ever seen the lips he paid for make. "Wanted to start fresh.”

“That's what I thought,” I reply with a squinty nod. I knew it! My instincts are never wrong. I sigh in dismay … I really should've gone with that blue dress.

Alone on this well-trodden path I stride
I strain for mem’ries I can’t seem to find
Stories of yesterday melted inside
Music fails to play in my cloudy mind
I recall some kisses in pouring rain
And steamy nights in strong arms by the fire
The hugs and caresses I’d think would stain
Are fluttering off like fairies of Ire
I can’t just look over and see your eyes
Shadows have swallowed the treasures I’ve known

I can’t seem to find you or hear your voice
Where and who are you, who once was my own
If I could only see you, hold you again
I’d know my last walk would end with a friend

Streams of purple, green and turquoise light replaced red and yellow as the pit DJ’s next song selection pulsed out of the speakers.

Even across the noisy, low-lit club and through the crowd of gyrating fools, Stefan drew her attention by simply mouthing her name. His power was stronger than ever … because of his need to feed.

Beyond hypnotist, beyond car salesman, beyond Siren, Stefan could seduce with mere thought and beckon the most hardened soul to his, when his thirst was strong enough, like it was tonight. In his 500-and-some-odd-year existence, he’d never spotted anyone, be it royal or vagrant, with more beauty, sparkle and life. He licked his upper lip, anticipating a resurgence of fervor and the pure taste of her.

In his white, button-down shirt with a black Japanese flower scrolling up the left, he knew he looked sharp. He straightened his collar to draw attention downward, but she never broke eye contact. He had her.

With her eyes locked on his, Stefan timed his steps with the bass as he made his way over to the laughing goddess.

Her golden hair changed like a kaleidoscope under the spinning globes and reflected more colors than he could count. She waved her body like a snake, one charmed to follow his mental choreography and music. He smirked. By the time she knew what was happening to her, it would be too late. He could already imagine her gasp of shock and alarm, but he would muzzle her scream with the scarf in his pocket, the silk one he’d picked up at Versace just for her.

“Hi, Gorgeous,” she shouted, clutching his arm and pulling him around two entangled lesbians to stand less than a foot away from her.

A mini-dress in hot pink hugged her body in much the way he hoped to. As she flipped her hair over her shoulder, a waft of jasmine, lavender and spice swirled into his nose.

“Hi. I'm Stefan. You’re Paris Hilton, right?” He shook his head, not used to the bangs in his nicely trimmed dark hair.

“Of course. Gonna ask me to dance or what?” He must have hesitated too long for her liking. “I’m used to the cat-got-cher-tongue look, but I can't stand shyness. So not hot.”

He laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist, clamping her against his body. “More to your liking?”

Her eyebrows raised as did the corners of her lips. “Definitely.”

All the closer, he inhaled the fragrance in her hair, now ringing of honeysuckle in its floral bouquet, and moaned as though he’d consumed the richest chocolate. He quickly cleared his throat to cover his involuntary response.

On television and in magazines, he’d spotted a rare essence in her, one that drove him mad with lust. Passion for her consumed his every waking thought.

He stole his way on a private jet and followed her around for days with the slink of a cat, shielded by a swarm of paparazzi. Then, he muscled his way in here with his aqua eyes, piercing a massive bouncer into compliance.

In person, her eyes, combined with her aroma and her body pressed against his in this dirty dance, had him nearly bursting through his jeans and aching to suck her dry.

“Man. You’re stunning’,” he said, trying to match his appearance of twenty-five.

She nodded while batting her lashes, long and faux. “Yeah, I know. You live around here?”

“No,” he yelled as the music picked up. “Just visiting, taking in the sights. I have business to attend to also.”

She leaned toward his ear. “Oh. That’s cool, Stef. I’m in a new movie so I’m too jammed to show you around, but if you need help, I have people who do that … for my friends.”

Friends? I'm in! “Yeah. Doesn't surprise me. What’s the name of your movie?”

“Dead of Night. I’m playing the head vamp in a, what’s it called, urban fantasy or something like that. I get to kick ass. Cool or what?”

Ha! The irony! Stefan burst out laughing, not meaning to do so right in her ear. He bit his lip.

“What’s so funny?” she said, followed by a sneer and narrow eyelids. “Don’t you think I’d make a good, ass-kicking vampire? Sure, at first, I was kind of goofing off, but I’m getting better and want to do more films.”

“No. I’m sure you will. It’s just, uh, Hollywood never gets it right. Perception’s so narrow and wrong.”

She shrugged and circled her hand in the air like she was casting off a fly. “I guess. I get to fly around on one of those zipping harness thingies and learn some fight moves. I can’t wait.” Her hands shimmied down his back to his butt and she rubbed and squeezed both cheeks. “I like the way you dance. It’s hot.”

“Years of practice.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “I’ll bet. Wanna go somewhere to play around some? A place that’s more … private and not so noisy?”

Stefan couldn’t believe his luck. He didn’t even have to coerce her, stare her down or anything. She was asking. Maybe he'd make her like himself instead of taking all of her. They could be eternal companions. Two beautiful people … immortal … absolute perfection.

“Love to, baby,” he said. “This is crazy. I never expected to be talking to Paris Hilton let alone taking off with her. Got a place in mind?”

“I’ve got a special suite in the hotel upstairs? They totally love me here.”

“Really? You actually stay somewhere that’s not a Hilton?”

“Ha ha. Ye-es. Very funny.” She elbowed his arm and pointed to the other side of the lounge. “We can leave out the VIP exit. Come on.” She collected her hair in her fist and stripped out static electricity. He longed to lick her palm to catch any sparks. It pained him to lose out on any of her zest. She laced her fingers around his and appeared to look at their joined hands. “Your hands are so cold.”

He shrugged. “I know. They won’t be for long.”

“Yeah. I’ll warm you up. It's one of my many talents.”

Stefan’s pulse quickened and a dizziness filled his head. Her luscious essence intoxicated him. He couldn’t wait to get her all hot and bothered on a bed on ivory satin or something, then jam that scarf into her mouth, only to see those eyes widen in a plea for mercy. Too bad she’d covered those orbs with blue lenses tonight, because the terror in her natural brown would be spectacular.

Paris ushered him to a wall, ran her hand along a seam and did something he couldn’t see. Soon the wall sprung open to reveal a hidden hallway. After they stepped into the low-lit hall, she closed the door behind them and lead him through a labyrinth of flickering, zapping florescence. The music and noise dulled behind him and faded to pulsating thumps.

After reaching the end of a hallway, they climbed an iron staircase, and at the top of the landing, she opened another door, which opened directly into a hotel suite through a bookcase.

“Ta da. Welcome to my Princess Suite.”

“Wow. It’s so … perfect.”

“I know, right?” She closed the door.

Stefan had seen his share of palaces and ritzy resorts, and this stood toe-to-toe in elegance. He was right! He nearly cheered in glee.

Here it was! A bed of ivory satin. So perfect for love and birth and death.

Against golden walls, draperies, linens and furniture cushions gleamed in monochromatic tones of cream and beige. Paintings, vases, flowers and fruit added bursts of color as did a red and gold oriental chandelier over the bed.

He noticed a fruit platter and a bucket of chilled wine on the coffee table near the Victorian couch, which would come in handy if loosening up was needed. The more surrender in the prey, the sweeter the essence.

He shook his head in disbelief as she walked him to the bed, which shone like the purest altar for sacrifice.

Paris turned to him, her face so angelic, soft and kind. It held self-assuredness but not a hint of the cockiness that so many jealous girls assumed of her.

“I'm not normally loose or anything, but you're totally sexy and you caught me on a horny night. My guy's out of town. Hope you don't mind.”

“No. We can do whatever you want. Just kiss even. I really don't care. Doesn't he mind?”

“Nope. He loves my impulsive streak and is completely understanding. He knows how I get.”

Stefan drew her into a kiss and she eagerly opened her mouth for him. He explored her and caressed her tongue with his. Her skill stirred him to arousal, distracting him from his primary need. With her so eager, Stefan decided to quicken things. He picked her up and half-dropped her on the bed, clumsier than he'd meant to. They laughed and she yanked his head down, reconnecting their mouths, before he even had a chance to lay on top of her. He joined her on the bed and after they kissed in a frenzy of crazed grabs, she unbuttoned his shirt and ran greedy hands along his chest and fingernails up his back.

Paris complimented him on his muscles and the feel of his skin. She flipped them over and straddled him and kissed his forehead and ears and neck as she unbuttoned and unzipped his denim fly. When her hands wandered in, he gritted his teeth and focused on the funky chandelier, trying to ignore the sensations firing off below his stomach.

He had to move. Now! She was driving him insane and avoiding his gaze too much.

Stefan slid his hand into his pocket, and wave after wave of his fingertips, he gathered and wadded the scarf into a tight ball.

He’d switch positions, pin her down and get the job done. He’d gaze into her fake-blue eyes, then drink her in until she was clinging to life by a very thin thread. Maybe he’d show her mercy and give her the choice. He wanted to give her the choice. To be or not to be? That is the question of life.

She ripped away his shirt, popping the last two buttons she had never bothered to undo. She devoured his chest and neck in wet kisses and bites, some sharper than others.

What the hell. No harm in letting her go to town first. He grimaced and winced whenever she seemed to be going for a kill.

After she did figure-eights around his pecks with her tongue, she traveled back up to his neck. He could have sworn sharp teeth not just bit, but drove in, deep, puncturing his flesh. The anguish! He gasped and tried to scream, but his mouth was suddenly jammed with some filthy rag. A rag! Not a $3,000 scarf carefully selected to match a handbag. A rag. A stinky, used rag, drenched in Lemon Pledge.

His mortal cry emitted like a sour note from the distant depths of hell. Pain threatened to burst his head and heart. Breath evaded his flaring nostrils. She was draining him faster than he could regenerate and replenish. He fought to push her off himself, but her strength was unbreakable and he weakened more with each second. His arms felt glued to the bedspread. He clammed his eyes shut as blood burned like scorching fire, racing through and leaving his veins, replaced with an icy chill. She drank not just his life-force but his essence and his supposed immortality. The scent of earth and iron choked him.

A jostle at the door and a solid bang into the wall made him jolt and peek through his heavy lids. Paris pulled away from her task to look, her mouth framed with glorious red. No spectacle or wonder on earth, and he’d seen countless, had ever awed him more than that. He longed to kiss her lips again and taste his own essence mixed with hers. Must be like honey straight from the hive.

“Huuuukkk!” rattled the blond, who'd entered through the actual door. “Finally! I've been looking all over for you … Fabulous! Another one? Thought you said you were good to go for a week or so.”

“Yeah. But he’s a psychic vampire. Unbelievable! He’s gotta be at least 500, Nic.”

Nic? Right. Lionel's anorexic brat.

Paris waved her hand and said, “Do you know how rare one like this is? He’s absorbed so much beauty and energy in his lifetime … only to be a gift for me. The tastiest thing ever. I’m feeling kind of generous. Want some?”

“Hell no! I’d never take your crappy scraps. I was able to snag a sitter. Hurry up, bitch. A bunch of us are going to The Green Door.”

“Kay. Gimme a sec.”

Nicole left the suite as noisily as she’d entered.

“Sorry about the interruption, Gorgeous. She really needs to get her own lair. I tell her all the time to knock, but she freakin’ never does! Uuhh! Hate her sometimes.”

He tried to speak but lemony dirt swallowed his one word.

She ungagged his mouth. “What, hun?”

He gasped for hair, his lungs seizing as much as possible. “Question,” he muttered.

“What? I can't hear,” she said with her eyes squinted. She bent down, putting her ear close to his mouth. He stretched his tongue and licked the blood at the corner of her lips.

She jerked away and slapped his chest. “No, no. Uh-uhn, bad boy.”

“Do I get … mercy?”

“Sure, baby. I’m totally sweet like that.” She returned to his neck, taking a fresh bite on the other side. He screamed but it exited as a hoarse, girly shrill.

His mind zipped back to that day forever ago at age twelve when his uncle showed him the secret of total energy absorption, which would allow him to never get sick, heal rapidly, live forever. Forever? What a joke! His youth spent gathering energy here and there from any passerby had been child's play. He'd waited until the perfect age in adulthood to partake in a total feed, to drain a human of life to prolong and improve his own.

He froze. He'd forgotten age. He’d forgotten love. He'd forgotten time, pain, the fear of death. And he felt them all in this moment.

Paris slid off him, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and licked off the blood.

To be or not to be? “Thank...you,” he whispered as she straightened her dress with a shimmy.

“I know, right?" She waved her fingertips and blew him a kiss. "Bye, Gorgeous. That was hot. Thanks for the party.”

She set her phone at her ear, and after a moment, said, “Jimmy! Need another clean up, but give him ten … Yes! A spectacular feast … No, not that messy. Thanks so much. Mwah. You’re the best.”

She sashayed to the door, hips and arms swaying. She looked energized and refreshed, and somehow, more beautiful than before.

The taste of their mixed essence clung to his tongue like nectar of the gods.

The lights went off, the door closed, and darkness engulfed him, symbolizing the end of his earthly existence.

He closed his eyes.

His body suddenly felt as old as it was. The minimal blood that was still in his decaying shell pooled in his throat and lungs. He was drowning. His skin wrinkled and pulled taught. His bones splintered and snapped, tearing through muscle.

He fell and kept falling into some abyss. He couldn’t scream. He wanted to sing and rejoice.

On a bed of ivory satin, he lay dying in agony, and he never felt more alive.

To be.

*This contest entry had to include a vampire, werewolf or zombie and a celebrity

Time dies like heartbeats

Hands race and spin so quickly
'til they tick, click, cease

listening ears
find a symphonic zone
while running
falling in love
crying on a pillow

in the dark of night
during wild sex
in fits of mania
from yesterday
beyond twilight

be weird and crazy
stir curiosity
stretch for greatness
be passionate
find artistic voice

you superstar
queen of hearts
sex goddess
homeless man
child born with pen

to be or not to be
that is the question
find the story
the untold story
poetic license

deep within

springing out
like glorious angels
like soul’s fire
in a creative burst

The Saturday morning buzz whirls by as I'm trapped in quicksand, wearing my brand new heels. I was awakened by a drip...drip...drip. A leaky faucet, a mere whisper to most, screams, contrasts the silence. I fled my home, did the day spa, got a coffee - black, but now I'm stuck in this sludgy line amidst a commotion of scanner beeps and price checks.

Just my usual.

Something resembling jam adorns some chick's collar like a ruby brooch and ghastly runs streak the left leg of her nylons. The stranger turns and gives me that look...as if to illuminate some bond of sisterhood to gain my sympathy and understanding. I have none.

Just my angst.

I flick my blond hair off my shoulder and sneer, but my left eye's squinting more than the right. She pivots away pink and huffy. Well too freakin' bad! I don't give a rat's ass! I know her mussed hair tells of the day she's had, but the man who accompanies her sparkly finger probably considers such a wind-blown disaster sexy.

Just my luck!

I realize she has three momentary itches. One's crying. One's trying to flee. One's whining for something...maybe candy. I don't know, nor do I care. I wanna punch her in the face so bad because she just doesn't get it. Instead, I blink away dew and embrace the cans in my hands, containing some substance that might be meat. I can't stop thinking about that look.

Just my mirror-image.

Or what used to be...barely past yesterday, when such aggravations weren't quite seen as treasures...when sneakers needed to blink, when the tires were worn, when the ruby was all stain. I'd do anything to get back that look.

Kid-tousled, sparkly, frustrated, spent.

That was mine.

Before the fire.

She slips into the shadowy room where I’m waiting...aiming.
Cheaters deserve the fire of steel, coldness of death.
Sweet justice was commissioned; it beckoned me here.
Who’d disregard candlelight dinners...midnight beach romps?
Hmph…I’m not judge, just executioner.
So why am I bleeding?
She deserved the bullet.
She’s smirking, leaving.
She knew!
How?

– 1 –

Bad Plans

When the spindly finger of doom first poked Majesty five months ago, she’d shrugged it off with a “yeah, right,” only to have her father end up near-headless in a ditch under a blanket of safety glass. These days, her shoulders stayed put. Knew something would happen. Knew it! She clamped her jaw to quiet her stupid teeth. Should she whistle? Shout for help? Would that startle the dude and make him fall or even be heard over the celebratory clamor at the new baseball diamond beyond the hills? Tension rolled down her back as she searched for assistance and came up empty. She was his only hope. God help him.

Though his eye color remained a mystery, since he quivered on a ledge thirty feet overhead, and she was pretty sure she’d never more than glanced at him before, those windows to his soul bulged like half dollars, minted with fear. Fear was good. That meant he didn’t want to die, right? At least not with a face-first plummet into blacktop.

Cool wind swirled around her and whipped her chestnut locks into her face, yet she broke into a sweat and her limbs threatened to melt. She clutched her hair with trembling fingers and shoved it into the back of her shirt as she sought a gem of inspiration. What’s his name even? Crap!

He, who was like three pounds heavier than the Crypt Keeper, and honestly not much cuter, shuffled his foot. Grit rained down and pricked Majesty’s face, making her grimace and step back several feet into a parking space. Knuckling sand out of her eye, she strained to locate his moniker in some dusty, mental file ... Nothing!

This guy seriously melted into the walls, which was probably why he wanted a splattery exuent. But, he appeared to be second-guessing his death wish, clinging to the backside of Cedar Creek High, fingers spread wide like the blue ones on a strawberry poison dart frog.

After every win, the baseball players, coaches and she—the team manager—played assassination hide-and-seek in the woods behind the school, feigning death from fatal shots of colored water and other wet substances. But this was no game!

Blasting outta the building in her just-fetched slicker, she’d glanced back to silence the niggle that said she was being watched. Well, she was! And now his life depended on her, a hot mess of seventeen who’d worn out more running shoes in recent time than birthday candles. Her, rather than someone who could actually think under duress without needing to rattle off the fixings in various pints of Ben & Jerry’s.

Unable to whip up a decent plea or anything motivational, Majesty opted for the opposite. She raised her plastic sleeve and glanced at her watch. “Well, jump already. What are ya waitin’ for? Haven’t got all day. Hear the frenzy? I’ve got a winners’ battle to attend to, managerial duties to punch out, you know, the usual, ’cause we’re rockin’ a most glorious, undefeated season.”

“What? You think I should jump?”

“What do I know. Call a hotline. I can barely handle my own turmoil, never mind yours. Unless you’re holding a bat or glove, can’t help ya, sorry. Crisis aversion’s not in my job descrip.” In case he could spot her tremors, she leaned back on one leg, then planted her other foot strong to keep it from tapping in time to her frantic pulse. Hopefully she wasn’t playing this hand of Death all wrong. “What do you got to live for anyway?”

“Nothing. I’m so ... tired.”

“Take naps then. Less permanent.”

“I mean ... of having no friends.”

“I thought you did. That Prince of Darkness guy? Warren Niles?”

“Yeah. One friend. Lucky me. As good as none.”

“Oh, please. If you hate your situation, stop playing SimSuicide and change it. Find what you’re good at. Make friends outside of school. I hear cults are very welcoming. Besides, geeks get girls … eventually.”

“Right. Every day is such a nightmare. You have no idea.”

“Oh, really? Do you wake up, heaving from bloody dreams that promise destruction like some crazy street guy forecasting the Apocalypse? Did you slam a door in your dad’s face hours before he died? Does everyone, cops included, think you’re a pestering loon ’cause ‘accident’ doesn’t sit right with you, nor the many other freakouts, like the car that keeps showing up on your street, with someone sitting in it, doing like, nothing? No? Oh no? Didn’t think so. Life sucks for everyone. Jump or deal with it.”

He held a moment of silence, hopefully, reconsidering having gravel embedded in his brain. “You really slammed the door in your dad’s face? On that day?”

Majesty closed her eyes and took deep breaths to ditch the barbed truth for something more benign like the weather. Yes, she nodded, it was quite windy, the frickin’ clattering leaves on roller coasters of gnarled branches proved it. She listened to the soft percussion and fled from the pain trying to needle its way in.

“Man,” he said. “So, even your best friends, Alec and Derek, think you’re nuts?”

She winced that he knew who her best friends were, while she couldn’t even recall his stinkin’ name. Surely she’d heard it at some point. She scratched her cheek. All she could come up with was Wheels, but that couldn’t be right. She reopened her eyes and looked back up at his vibrating knees. “Yep. BFFs can break your heart too.”

“Must suck to be you, oh, Queen of Misery.”

“Most days.”

He edged along the thin lip, and she slapped her chest with splayed fingers. His toes hung over, body swayed.

Despite her best effort to play cool cat, her shrill shriek as he wavered to catch balance throttled that guise to death. “No! Don’t!” She exhaled with a shudder when he steadied. He stayed there for several seconds, then ducked in through an open window. What? Over? Seemed so, but her wracked nerves still had her shaking like crazy. “Hey! You gonna be all right?”

He was gone from the vicinity of the window and didn’t reply.

Well, Death was one nasty S.O.B., but at least her disastrous life was good for somethin’. Smiling at her success and not paying attention, she spun right into someone and wobbled, stepping back. Oh gothic lord. She pointed up with both hands. “Oh my gosh! Your fr—”

“Let me guess. Jase?” Her gaze pinballed from his dark lips to his crown of gelled daggers to his demon garb.

“Jase? Oh. Jaaase. Jason Wheeeeler.” She ground her jaw to stuff the braggery on her tongue, as his lack of shock and narrowed eyelids insisted he could more than one-up her. “Yes. He’s safely off the brink now, but—”

“Though I gotta lock him up some days, he wouldn’t have jumped. He likes to ponder in peril. A splat just isn’t glorious enough … Speaking of glory, your victory annihilation is about to commence,” Warren said brusquely.

“My lame game? Screw it! I wanna go check on him, make sure he’s okay.”

“Don’t worry. I got it … Go on. Knock ’em dead. You shouldn’t mess with superstition.”

“What?” Before she could voice more concerns or say anything closer to kind, he scuffled away, hands in pockets. So weird. Hopefully he’d get his friend in check. She watched him until he reached the building, then took off for the woods. From the trunk of rejected weapons, she selected the best looking spray gun, though cracked and paltry. Oh well. I never lose.

Arm-shoved from behind, she jumped and spun to find Derek’s light blue gems darkened in a glare. “Jerk. Looking to die faster?”

“Took you the hell long enough.”

“Just saving another neck. My bad.”

“Come on, let’s go. I’m It.”

“The Shit’s more like it,” Alec said, walking up to them, laughing. “Had to make him wait for ya.”

Derek clenched the bloody-looking splotch on his shirt. “Only scored ’cause I wasn’t looking, loser. You’re all goin’ down. Calling it now. First total wipeout ever, by one It.”

“Yeah? You still gotta get me.” Majesty swept her finger over one of the drops on Derek’s arm and sniffed it. “Wow! Huge step up from the watered-down ketchup we tried. This looks and smells so real.”

“Right. Goat’s blood usually does,” Alec said flatly, though the jest in his eyes gave him away. Her bloody dreams were no joke! They just didn’t get it.

“Ooo, it’s real? Delicious.” Majesty slid her finger onto her tongue, closed her lips around it, then pulled it out clean with an erotic moan. “Mmm.” It was real! Nasty! But her nausea was well worth it, with every hint of glee dissolving in their eyes. “Epic fail trying to sickify me. Watch out. I fight hard and dirty.”

“Alec’ll fight ya. Dirty or not. Betcha could take him down in three seconds.”

“Mmm hmm. Poor thing. I’ll be gentle.”

“No way, baby,” Alec whispered in her ear. “I like it rough.” He left a kiss on her temple.

“Good to know.” She winked at him.

They waved her off and dashed deeper into the thicket.

She tested her ammo, squirting her hand, gawking at the streaming ribbons of red. Blood for everyone? It’s fine. Don’t be such a baby. Considering the capacity of these adjustable-nozzle super soakers, she didn’t even want to think about how many buckets they’d bought or where or how?

Drawing closer to the rowdy warriors, she whistled through her fingers to get this party started. What an impressive cry of the wolf! Her loudest ever. She lifted a soaring whoop again, but it fell far short of the first’s magnificence. As she looked over her shoulder for the perfect place to hide and make Derek eat crow, movement caught her eye by the school. She shivered and froze in her tracks. What the heck’s he still doing out here?

Two seconds later, Warren turned and entered the building … but not before she’d sensed a fury that swore he could slay her beloved Colts with will alone. Maybe he could. Maybe that’s why her chills wouldn’t die.

. . . .

Finished with player updates, an article for the team site and most deliciously, the call, Majesty laughed, dropping her office phone into its cradle in her office off of the gym. Getting to gloat to the Wasps’ Athletic Director thrilled as a definite managerial perk. The Colts and Wasps usually faced off in the regionals, but the Dragons just scorched the lousy buzzers, 12-5.

But, every ounce of funny was suddenly slain by the lingering sting from nearly being taken out by Derek. Cornered in the brush, the last one standing, and “Time’s up!” was what had saved her? Disgraceful.

She groaned at the unfamiliar taste of loserdom while tucking her hair under her cap, then snatched flavored water from her mini-fridge and kissed the school goodbye. Exiting out the back, she thought of Jase and prayed to the ears in the air that he’d find peace or something.

She dashed to the front and down the driveway and turned left toward the town center, and away from homes with yippy purse dogs and diamond-studded mailboxes.

A sprinkle of storefronts, a second-run cinema, St. Mark’s, one restaurant, one gas station and Spanky’s—a mini-golf/ice cream shop-gone-wild—made up Cedar Creek’s hub.

Banners put up for the St. Paddy’s Day parade still hung on utility poles and she searched for surprise additions amongst the bunnies and flowers. No screwing dogs or puking rats yet? Boring, people. Get with it! These sugary spring-things always flapped in the wind beside mini American flags until the day after the Independence Day fireworks, which was not necessarily on the 4th ... or even in July. She’d have to be on the lookout for the perfect demented treasure to tack up before then. Little sound was lovelier than a chorus of old lady shrieks and tsks.

She passed Fisher Price village and the lions guarding Markie’s cathedral and booked it into The Common, a fancy name for an ill-equipped park. Woods laced through town, but the strip behind The Common aroused whispers. Three kids, holding hands and singing Ring around the Rosie, stopped and gawked.

One cried, “She’s goin’ in! Must not be ascared a the spooks.”

Entering the shadowy land, Majesty snickered that Alec’s urban legend about those people-turned-creatures endured. “They grow more fierce each day, waiting in the woods for their kings and queens to come and lead them to overtake the area, the country, and eventually, the world.”

Six years ago, a girl disappeared. Theories abounded, but most of the children believed, “The spooks got her.”

Crows griped about the invasion and the drooping sun spilled beams through the evergreen towers, creating an inky leviathan war deep in the thick. Majesty took a deep breath as anxiety weaseled in.

Near the tripod, where three towns converged and a coven reportedly danced nude, she slowed to a stroll. Birds departed the treetops in a flurry of flapping wings, but one crow remained, voicing stern warnings to friends ... or maybe her. She gulped her drink, enjoying its grape hint. When glitchy male voices found her ears, she froze, bead of water dripping from her mouth.

“So, everything’s set?”

“Yep. Got the guns, supplies. It’s a go.”

Majesty searched. There ... little over ten yards.

“Hope ... doesn’t blow up in our faces. Thought we were gonna kill one. Those people won’t know what hit ’em.”

People? Can’t see anything! Imaginary ants tingled her neck and her legs wobbled with each step she took toward a concealing tree. She braced herself and peered around the trunk. But the closer look didn’t help, since fatigues, bulky vests and face-engulfing Buffs obscured them. Great!

“That’s the beauty ... They’ll learn how dead and buried their Jesus is when ... doesn’t help ... start shooting up the church. Haven’t ... how many I wanna off yet. Needs to be sick … national coverage. Let’s snatch our gear ... do this lame paintball thing, get back to our real deal.”

They headed for the even deader town of Megan’s Corner. No. Wait! Majesty leaned forward, shifting her weight. If I could just... A stick snapped underfoot. The taller one stopped and whacked his buddy’s arm. She cringed and jerked back.

“Shh. Hear somethin’?” They were likely debating the noise she’d stupidly made in the whispers she couldn’t make out, but the clatter of them moving through the woodland was deafening.

Sweat dripped from Majesty’s temples and frightened fairies fluttered beneath her skin. She stood motionless but the rustling drew too close. Shoved into flight, she took off like a sprinter at the shot. Water sloshed on her leg, awakening goose bumps with its chill. She chucked the bottle and cap into reaching shrubs.

Muddled threats nipped at her heels, but agility and swiftness aided her evasion, as well as knowing the woods, not well, but well enough. Majesty bolted through the clearing, rounded a bend and deserted the path.

Busting through brushwood as fast as she could, she spotted a hollow. She jumped into its bowl of dead foliage with way too much crunch, slid under a bush and clammed her mouth with her hands to prevent gasping. She swallowed to rid the tightness that was crawling up her throat.

“Some girl. See anything?”

“Nah.”

She tried to catch vocal distinctions, already smothered by a babbling stream. She swept a tickling spider off her arm, lifting freakin’ trumpet blasts into the air. Idiot! Her heartbeat drummed in her ears as she muscled her gaze through branches.

“Gone.”

The watery white noise had proven a godsend for her foolish misstep and cranky stomach, now bellowing for food. One of them kicked debris her way and a fleck of something hit her eye. She closed it and covered it with her fingers.

After a string of salty slurs, one said, “Hair was hidden ... Colts shirt.”

“Good. One of our own. Should ... find her.”

Our own? She shuddered. Agony seduced her to dislodge the foreign body with her knuckle. She couldn’t wait.

“But what if she—”

“No one can stop us, especially some girl. We’re in control. I’ll find her first ... eradicate her.”

Their nerve-grating footfalls walked away, veering into silence.

Majesty finally allowed her lungs to yank air. She’d never been so petrified ... except for the time men in blue had come to her door ... and she just knew.

– 2 –

Anonymous One

Majesty remained in the woods a good half hour before leaving. Her lungs burned by the time she mounted the steps to the terrace off the side of Derek’s house and bedroom. Blue-black clouds suddenly seized the sun as if to keep it from falling into the clutches of the bloody Siren beckoning at the horizon, and the darkness swallowed Majesty up.

As chills shook her, she prayed Derek was home. She cringed at the prospect of being alone, with Death so evidently at her heels ... and bragging about it. A glow through the curtain looked promising.

She knocked on his French door with a shaky fist. Sweat had plastered hair to her face. She slid the snaky strands behind her ears, smoothed out the rest. Not that he’d ever notice a difference between her delectable diva swagger and this river-rat-on-crack thing she surely had goin’ on ... but still. Getting no response, she rapped harder and bounced on her heels. “Come on. Be home.” Finally, an outer light came on. Once the door opened, she clung to him like someone snatched back from a riptide.

“What’s up, Maj?” Shirtless and in jeans, Derek pushed against her shoulders, but she held on. His hands plodded across her back as though not equipped to deal with the duty of consolation. Why couldn’t he ignore his hatred for tears and let her stay in his arms? Just once!

Conceding, she pulled away and entered his midnight blue sanctuary, which at 20' x36' dwarfed her entire upstairs. Despite the warmth from lit candles and the running gas fireplace, she couldn’t stop shivering. She paced in front of his jumbotron and spat out the dreadful tale, with her hands completely going off-script with their own take.

“What? Were they for real? Come on, Maj.”

“Yes. One said he’d eradicate me when he finds me. They go to CCH and saw my shirt!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. With the hype, Colts shirts are everywhere. What’d the cops say?”

“Uh, I haven’t told ’em yet. My cred’s shot. Kind of an unintentional cry-wolf thing.”

“Majesty. You gotta tell ’em.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. But I can’t go in there all hysterical and spazzed out. They’d blow me off like always. Me. The idiot griever. I need a freakin’ game plan, a way to say it that won’t make me sound like Chunk. But my brain’s in mud. Help me think.”

“Um ... get a good look or recognize voices? Details’d help.”

“Un-uh. I missed pieces actually. They sounded weird and muffled, wore scarves over their mouths. And also, some of the officers know me. What if my identity lands in the press?”

His blue-diamond eyes twinkled with ridicule. “Guess you’ll be eradicated then.”

“Come on. Get real. This is serious.”

“The press? The TriTown News has what, fifty readers? A sap like you will crash if it happens and you’d done nothing to try and stop it. Hmm. Hey, I know. Call from a payphone. Then, no one has to know your identity, and cops’ll be more apt to believe it. Solves everything.”

She mulled it over, chewing her lip, twisting fingers together. “Okay. Maybe. Hopefully it’ll work. There is that relic hanging on for dear life in the Don’t-Blink Zone. I’ve got to try it. I don’t want anyone to die. For a while now, I’ve felt like something’s been chasing me, Death really. That’s why I’ve been so nutty.”

“Is that what they call it?” He embraced her, his hands doing a better job this time, drawing gentle swirls. “It’ll be okay. Relax. You’ve got a whole team of protectors, armed with bats.”

“No! I don’t want anyone to know. Not even Alec. Okay?”

“Sure, crazy, whatever you want.”

His muscular hold soothed but also ignited a thirst for him to kiss her with unforgettable passion. But that would never happen. He was her best friend, and that’s all he’d ever be.

Waving flames from maybe twenty tapers evoked images of him ravishing some naked slut allowed to scream his name. His dark brown hair, wet at the tips, and the saltiness that met her lips, only made them multiply. Though the sickening illusions cut through her like a gazillion shards of glass, she’d take them over bloody ones any day.

“What’s with all the candles?” She slapped her mouth for spilling the thought when she’d specifically told it not to.

“Aaah, ya know, prayin’ to Satan.”

“And ya didn’t invite me? Mean.” Stupid candles. Fabulous. Exactly what she needed at the moment too. But what kind of nemesis would Grief be if it didn’t stab at her from every angle? “Why would anyone wanna slaughter people like that?”

“Beats me. Hopefully, we can find out who it is before they act.”

“Trust me. Once I gather my thoughts, that’s what I fully intend to do.”

. . . .

Being with Derek had lessened Majesty’s anxiety, but a sliver of dread lingered, as well as prickly frustration from him not seeming even slightly aroused while he’d inspected her for ticks in his bathroom. What the heck was his problem anyway? He’d have to be blind to be more blind. She waved to him as he ripped out of her driveway. Dogwood blossoms that had settled on his Corvette sailed off and fluttered to the pavement.

Majesty entered her meager cottage and inched the door closed. Ignoring the call of fresh-baked banana bread, she turned to slink upstairs, but her mother met her at the door, making her grouse.

“Happy to see you too. How was the game?”

Majesty removed her cap, shook her tresses and fingered through the snarls. “We won. We’re so close. The regional final’s next week.”

Continue reading this ebook at Smashwords.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-32 show above.)