Just a few drops

The man who walked in had to duck to fit under the door. He also had to turn to the side so that he could slip his shoulders through the frame.

“You ready?”

The big man looked to the left, at the short, balding guy in road worn leather and a pair of scratched glasses. He nodded to the little man and after putting a few bills on the table in front of the guy, the big man was waved back through the curtain.

Inside the room, a pale, skinny blonde was sitting in a chair. Her head was hanging down so that her hair hid her eyes from view and her hands were pulled behind her. There was a little table beside of her with a glass, and spoon and a knife on top of it.

The man knelt beside the chair and grabbed a handful of hair to haul the tiny woman’s head up. He peeled her eyelid up so that he could see her pupils and after a moment, they contracted. He chuckled and reached for the knife.

The woman whimpered as the cold steel slid into one of the spots on her arm that didn’t have a scab on it. The man put a little spoon against the wound, waiting for a few minutes as a few drops of blood settled into the tarnished dish.

“That’s the stuff,” he said before putting the spoon into his mouth with a satisfied smile and a groan of pleasure.  A moment or two later, he sat on the floor beside the door and let his eyes close.

Lights began to flash and dance in front of the man and he relaxed so that he slid down the wall. “Oh man,” he whispered. “Damn.”

“Please.”

The big guy opened one eye. The girl in the chair had her head turned so that she could look at the man with one eye. From where he was sitting, he couldn’t see her mouth move but it had to have been from her. “What?”

“Please.” The word was almost too soft to hear. As he stared at her, the little bouncing lights danced around the girl like fairies around a mushroom. “Please.”

He wanted to ask her what she needed, but for some reason he couldn’t figure out how to move his tongue. He tried to open his mouth, but it seemed like his lips were glued together.

She looked down again and they sat together in silence.

There was a soft thump from the first room followed by a scraping sound. The big man thought it would be a good idea to go see what was going on, but with his legs being made out of ribbons there was no way he could float in. Instead, he turned his wide face to look at the curtain.

The edge of the fabric moved a bit on one side and there was a soft hiss from the other room.

The other edge of the fabric moved, then everything settled back into place.

“Wwwhhhaaaaa,” the guy said.

A foot stepped through the doorway. As he focused on the scuffed, black army surplus boot the big biker slipped over until his head rested on the floor. The boot and its twin moved into the room and the guy watched as the boots stopped in front of the woman tied to the chair. The black toe tapped the dirty bare foot of the captive, then turned to face the man.

“Wwwhhhaaaa?”

As the person who walked into the room knelt beside him, the big biker still couldn’t move. He saw tiny spheres of light swirl around the the dark hole of the person mouth. Then, slim white spikes appeared to grow down into the darkness before the man shivered at the warm air moving across his neck.

There was a quick, sharp pain before the guy closed his eyes. He took a huge breath, released it in a massive sigh, and then everything went dark.

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Culinary Science

This is a long one, coming in at just under 1500 words. I hope you enjoy it.

L. E. White

Culinary Science

Sandy turned around in a tight circle. Her hands fluttered just above her waist as her eyes darted over the counters.

“Stop.”

She froze like a deer with oncoming headlights.

“Straight out in front of your left hand.”

“Thank you,” she said as she grabbed a bowl of sea salt. Sandy added a large pinch to the pan and then stirred the vegetables with her left and the soup with her right. “Renee, you are a god send.”

“That’s what my husband says right after I start …”

“La, la, la, la.”

Renee laughed as she flipped her crepe onto a plate. The pair worked on opposite sides of the kitchen, each one focusing on their part while a tall, slender chef made notes on his clipboard.

“And that is time,” he said. “Please set your plates onto the serving boards.”

The girls cracked open bottles of water and waited. The school was small, so they could hear as each of the other teams were being graded.

“How did you get these spots on the plate,” Chef Anderson asked as he examined their work.

“I used an essential oil atomizer to spray garlic oil on the dish,” Renee said.

“Clever. Now, which of you made the filling for these crepes?”

“I did,” Sandy said.

“Good use of color.”

“I think the filling is under cooked,” Chef Morrison said as he cut into the dish. “I also think the crepe is over cooked. It doesn’t balance each other out ladies.”

Sandy looked at the floor with a slight blush while Renee glared at the rotund instructor until they moved on to the next group.

“How do you think we did,” Sandy asked.

“Shhh,” Renee whispered. “We aren’t supposed to talk during grading.”

One of the instructors, Chef Anderson coughed loudly. Neither of the women said anything else, even though it was obvious that Sandy wanted to, until class was over.

#

“I can’t believe we got a B+,” Renee ranted as they walked out of the building. “That crepe was not over cooked”

“Don’t sweat it, we got the second highest grade in the room,” Sandy said as she danced along beside her friend. “That class is over, the term is over and I am ready to celebrate. Let’s drink.”

The bar wasn’t busy, but it didn’t surprise either of them. Thursday night and the regular university term wouldn’t end for another week. The undergrads would all be studying tonight and the culinary school class couldn’t have filled the place if they had all come here together.

Renee frowned at the bottom of Sandy’s glass as she tilted it up to get the last drops. “How much celebrating do you plan to do tonight?”

Sandy smiled as she waved her arm at the waitress. “All of it. I am done with having my food critiqued for at least two weeks.”

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“I don’t care.”

Renee took her time and nursed a pair of drinks with water staggered between them while Sandy put away glass after glass. A few bar flies tried to strike up conversation by sending drinks over, but Renee made sure they realized this wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hello ladies.”

She started to roll her eyes at Sandy, but was stopped by the hungry, slack jawed awe that her friend was staring at the new comer with. She turned around and had to remind herself to breath as she let her eyes crawl over the man. He was tall, solid and dressed nice. Nothing exception or over the top, but it was still obvious that he took time on his appearance. “Hi.”

He smiled, and Renee’s breath caught at his dazzling smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sandy interrupted him. “Oh my god you are gorgeous.”

He smiled wider and Renee wished that either she or Sandy could just fall in a hole.

“Thank you. My name is Jerry. I was wondering if I could join you.”

“Yes,” the said together.

The girls glared at each other as Jerry laughed and sat down.

#

They walked arm in arm, Jerry in the middle, as they headed towards the parking garage. Renee had drunk more after Jerry had started buying, but she thought she was fine to drive. There was no way Sandy was driving herself home, but Renee wondered if she would be able to keep her friend out of the guys car.

She also wondered about being able to get him into hers.

“You know,” he said as they entered the stairwell. “I am not sure any of us are really in any condition to drive.”

“That’s okay,” Sandy said. “We could all just crawl into the back of Renee’s car together.”

Renee felt her face flush and she dropped her eyes to the stairs. “Sandy …”

Jerry interrupted her by putting his finger under her chin and lifting her eyes so that she could see him. He stared at her, and she felt like she was swimming. “I like that idea,” he whispered.

“So do I.”

#

The girls were side by side against the car. Jerry stood with one leg between each of theirs. He had them pressed together, one hand no each, his head between them as he turned from one to the other. He kissed Sandy on the neck, turned his head to kiss Renee, and then repeated the process.

The girl’s hands fought for position as they tried to rub Jerry through his clothes. She must have had more to drink than she thought because Renee felt like she was drowning. The world spun and twisted, moving around her despite her not being able to move because Jerry was in the way. She pulled his shirt out of his pants and ran her hand up his side before dragging her nails down his back.

It was her turn again, and when she felt his lips on her neck, she groaned. “Me,” Sandy said, and as Renee opened her mouth to tell her to wait her turn, a sharp pain in her neck brought the world back into focus.

She didn’t say anything, trying to make out why something that had just felt good had turned painful. Sandy whined, “My turn,” and Jerry pulled away, turning to Sandy. Renee tilted her head and out of the corner of her eye, saw his mouth.

His lip and chin were covered in blood. His teeth, stained pink, were long and jagged. The dazzling white line was replaced by a set of wild fangs that she realized had just torn a whole in the side of her neck. His smile looked like a tiger shark.

She jerked and tensed up, shifting her hands to push away. It didn’t work. Jerry pressed his leg forward, pinning her hips to the car with his thigh. He reached up and covered her mouth before pulling away from kissing Sandy’s neck.

“I am not finished with you.” His voice cracked and ground out each word in a way that reminded Renee of a spice grinder. “So be patient and wait your turn.”

This time, Jerry didn’t lean in so much as strike. His head snapped forward, and she felt Sandy’s body jerk from the sudden pain. Sandy cried out, but the sound was feeble. After a second, Renee felt her friend begin shaking.

She slapped and clawed at his back and it wasn’t doing any good. She realized that she needed a weapon. Her hands just weren’t going to hurt him. She reached into her purse, and felt a small bottle.

“Fuck,” she mumbled the word into Jerry’s hand when she realized that it wasn’t her pepper spray. It was all she had, so she slammed it into his side anyway.

The cap came off on the first hit. The bottle sprayed its contents onto his side with the next swing.

Jerry twisted away from Renee, ripping his head away from Sandy’s neck with a sickening sound. He hissed and pulled his shirt up to reveal an angry looking blister above his hip. “What the fuck do you have?”

When he looked at her, Renee trigged her atomizer of garlic oil again. Jerry screamed as his face began to sizzle. He spun in a tight circle, clawing at his face, and Renee triggered the bottle twice more before he charged away. He lunged, trying to put distance between them, and smacked into the side of an SUV, crumpling the door and triggering the alarm.

Renee stepped up to spray him again, but Jerry rolled under the SUV. She didn’t move, there was no way she was going to squat down and go after him, so she stood there with the atomizer pointed at the spot where he had disappeared. Twice more, she heard alarms when Jerry ran into cars, before she finally turned around to look at Sandy.

Then she fainted.

Review: Allure of the Vampire by Corvis Nocturnum

I am not much of a user of social media. I post on here and tie it to Facebook and Twitter, but that is just advertising. I just started going onto facebook a little bit in the last week or so, and it hasn’t been bad, but I don’t have the time to be on it much.

I tend to post funny pictures related to coffee on Twitter. My addiction rearing its ugly head.

But, I did get an interesting offer on Facebook. One that might get me to check it out a little more often. Corvis Nocturnum was kind enough to send me a review copy of his book, “Allure of the Vampire“.

No, it is not fiction.

Corvis has written about the vampire as a cultural icon and vampirism as a sub-culture thoughout history.

I want to start off by mentioning the down sides of the book. I prefer to end on a high note and I believe the book deserves it.

I found a few grammer/typo errors. These were usually things like missing words, extra words or the wrong word. It isn’t bad, and anyone who has read my work can site the same things. I really hope my editors don’t take this opportunity to add comments about just how much cleaning my writing needs. I only mention this in case you are a grammer nazi. For some people, this can throw them off of a book. Usually, I am one of those people. I don’t expect any book to be error free, but too many errors early can make me put a book down. I didn’t put this down.

If you are not interested in a educational read. If all you are looking for is escapism, then this might not be the book for you. The subject matter is handled in a very academic way without the reading turning dry. From the beginning, it is clear that the author has invested a lot of time into researching the topic. You aren’t going to get vivid descriptions that will transport you away. There isn’t a romantic undertone.

But, there are a lot of vampires. 🙂

Moving on to strictly good things.

This is something I am actually intending to re-read. The information Corvis gave me in this has sparked my imagination and it will influence my writing from here forward. I gained a deeper understanding that I hope will make my vampire stories more powerful. I believe that reading this has improved my future as a horror writer.

There are bits of history I didn’t know. References to stories and movies I have never heard of and, in some cases, they were created by brilliant people who’s other works are considered classics. Rudyard Kipling and Alexandre Dumas are both examples.

Corvis has managed to keep the language flowing so that you don’t feel bogged down. Try to remember your high school text books. A lot of times, the information was interesting, but the way it read would put you to sleep. I think Corvis has managed to avoid that throughout the book and I am impressed that he did. A boring author can change anything into a sleeping aid.

“Allure of the Vampire” does not do that.

If you are interested in Vampires beyond a movie screen. If you want to experience them as more than a tragic anti-hero or dark villan, then “Allure of the Vampire”, by Corvis Nocturnum is a book for you. I will be happy to give it five stars.

I already sent him a thank you. It is a wonderful book

L. E. White

Side note: I started writing a vampire short for today but it went over 1,000 words fast. I don’t see it breaking out of a short story, but I didn’t want to post it here. So I give you another vampire story. One that qualifies as Flash Fiction by being under the 1K mark. After reading this, you can expect more blood drinkers to stalk around here. I will try not to run it into the ground, pun intended, but I am going to play with these ideas.

Rise and Shine

Margret shifted, reaching up to scratch her nose, and the motion shifted the sheet over her skin. She felt this over her breasts, which was not uncommon. She liked to sleep topless. She also felt the thin cloth shift across her upper things and lower stomach. Now that was unusual, she never slept without her underwear on.

When she thought she opened her eyes, she wasn’t sure. It was so dark.

Margret reached up and over, stretching to grab the flash light, but she smacked into something with her hand.

“What,” she mumbled, trying to remember where she had been that she would now be beside the wall.

She tried to roll over and reach out the other way, but she bumped into another wall.

“What the fuck?”

Margret started to set up, but she hit her head against the ceiling.

She began to panic as she stretched out her arms, feeling the smooth metal walls that surrounded her. She brought her hands down to her body, feeling around as she tried to find a clue about where she was.

She froze, hands trembling against her skin where she had her fingers in her mouth.

Her finger hurt where she had just pricked it with one of her fangs.

Graverobbers

Torin pressed his back to the cold, damp wall and bit his lip in an effort to keep from screaming. His hands clenched the handle of a beautiful axe, but his arms betrayed him, quivering from fright at what he had just witnessed. The big man fought to slow his panic. He forced himself to take deep, lung filling breaths of the dank air that filled the cavern. He tried to direct his mind to examine the mundane details of the odors in this hellish place so that he might master the fear that made his knees quake.

The warrior could smell the rotting roots and the heady scent of the fungus that they had walked over as the group had entered. He and his friends had stood in a low fog of spores as they stared at the remains of a once great tomb.

“I told you the map was real.” The short man in the front turned around to look at them. He turned from face to face, looking up at Torin so that he could look each of the group in the eyes. “The Necropolis of Dranoel.”

“Yes Marcus, you were right,” the heavily armored man on the far right of the group said. “And I do owe you an apology for doubting you.”

“No Nale, you owe me a lot of beer when we get done.”

The group laughed at the rogue’s concept of apology as they headed toward what they had believed to be a simple place to pillage.

As they walked forward, Orin said, “All accounts say that Dranoel was a minor necromancer who had built a tomb the size of a village as a base of power. As far as anyone knows he was hunted and killed by the King’s guard for grave robbing. In truth, it was a preemptive measure to quell the possibility of threat. The wizard’s body was burned and the ashes scattered long ago.”

Torin looked at the imposing structure as the group approached. This was no town, it was a fortress. But, he figured that legends were often wrong so as long as there was treasure, he didn’t care about the buildings description.

There hadn’t been any more laughter after that. There had been nothing but eerie silence as the group methodically explored the ruins. There was a great deal of treasure for a minor necromancer, but nobody complained.

They fought into the heart of the complex, long dead corpses rising up to meet them as they went. They plundered, many of them finding wonderful things that would fetch piles of gold and kegs of beer.

They explored, until they found the mistress of the necropolis.

The legends had been close. Dranoel had indeed been burnt and scattered. What the legends had not known was that Dranoel had been an apprentice. The portrait of him standing beside his mistress showed a beautiful and terrifying woman. The group had stood and marveled at the work until the cleric stepped closer to examine it. The creature that fell upon him had once been voluptuous, but it was now wrapped in linen and its touch had rotted poor Orin’s head off his shoulders before his prayers could escape his lips. The others ran as his attacker turned on them.

The creatures in the deep vaults were powerful. The men had no names for most of them. Almost ever one of them had been a woman and with each encounter, another of Torin’s friends fell.

Torin had watched a vampire tear Nale’s throat out. The creature had been voluptuous and beautiful. It had mesmerized three others, so that despite his yelling, they stood there and waited for her to finish his leader and come for them.

Marcus had been swarmed by spiders made out of bone and skull. Some of them still had long braids trailing from the stained bone.  Marcus was bitten, over and over, until he fell and screamed while blood bubbled out of his mouth to obscure the sound.

Gore spattered Torin’s armor. The stink of it mixed with the air to make the big fighter want to vomit. Twenty men had entered the city. One man now tried to calm himself enough to think of a way out of the hell he had entered.

He was alone. He was still blessed with dark sight but Torin didn’t know how long the spell would last with his friend dead.

It was so cold. Even for a cave, the air felt frigid. In the moon light of the seeing, he saw his breath. Torin had never noticed seeing his breath while underground before.

Goose flesh erupted over his body. Shivering from fear became shivering to keep warm.

Torin closed his eyes, squeezing them while grinding his teeth together to keep his jaws from chattering.

It seemed that the hall was getting brighter. Even with his eyes shut, the darkness was less than it should have been. It soon seemed like he was lying outside, facing the sky, waiting for the sun to come out from behind a thin cloud.

The warrior lost the war with his jaw, and the clicking of his chattering teeth sounded like an army running down the hall towards him.

The light became brighter. Torin now squinted his eyes shut against the brightness. There was no warmth, he felt as if he were again standing guard duty in the southern garrison. Standing and holding a pike while frost spread across the poor excuse for a cloak that they had given him. He tightened his jaw, managing to stop the chattering long enough to hear one whispered word.

A single word, so quiet that it might have been whispered by his mother when she died in the night.

“Handsome.”

ick

My two youngest children had the flu last week and in true kindergarten style, they have shared it with me.

I headed to my clinic, being told I look horrible by the lady at the bank, and signed in. When I was called up to fill out new contact paperwork, that woman told me she was sorry to make me stand up. The nurse that started the vitals said she knew how bad I felt.

At this point, I am thinking I must look like a member of the cast for the walking dead. I had been coughing for a day. No fever yet. This is not a good sign.

Then the doctor comes in. A nice lady with a good bedside manner. She looks and me and says, “You don’t look like you feel well.”

It will get worse before it gets better. The anti-viral is supposed to help reduce the length of time a person is sick and to  reduce the severity of the symptoms. Considering that everyone thought I was so bad after a day, that makes me wonder what I will look like in a few.

Brains.

Being sick sucks. It sucks crap through a straw. It sucks more crap than a septic truck. It sucks the suck out of suck.

I hope you are all feeling better than I am. Good luck.

L. E. White – 230 before story

WFM

The coffee was hot and strong, but it was also a little thick. Dillon tried not to frown at as he choked down a large swallow.

“Would you like some cream?”

He looked up at the older blonde with a bit of a spare tire holding up what was probably once a fantastic rack, and nodded. Cream? Dillon drank espresso without adding anything to it and yet, this bitter syrup had to have something or he wouldn’t be able to drink anymore. He added as much cream as he could fit into the cup and tried again. Still horrible, but he nodded and forced a bit of a smile.

His hostess beamed as she sat down on the couch across from his chair. “So, what’s your name?”

“I’m Brad. What’s yours?”

She smiled and Dillon saw the yellowing of teeth that had been chewing on filters for years. “You can call  me Mona.” She patted the cushion on the couch beside of her. “Are you going to join me on this couch or would you prefer I come over to the chair with you?”

Dillon walked over to the couch and sat his cup on the table. Mona gave him a leering grin as she reached over a put her hand on his leg.

“Are you ok Brad?”

Dillon took a shuddering breath and looked from her hand up her arm. He stopped when he reached the cleavage she was displaying, and focused on the wrinkles on her chest. “I’m a little nervous about this. I’ve never done this before.”

“A handsome man your age has never done this before?”

“I mean, I’ve never met someone off of the Internet before.”

She smiled and began to rub Dillon’s thigh. “Well, it doesn’t have to be any different than any other person you have ever met. We can talk and see how things go from there. Or …”

Mona began to move her hands and Dillon tried not to think about how much older than him she was. She pushed him backward on the couch and said, “Do you remember what I said my name was?”, right before she undid his pants.

“Mona.” The word stretched out as Dillon moaned out the long o. Might as well just relax and enjoy it.

She stopped what she was doing for a second. “I never get tired of that.”

“Good.”

“But I’m hungry Dillon.”

“What?” He asked, realizing that she had just used his real name.

Mona was looking up at him, smiling, with a pair of long fangs poking over her bottom lip. “I said I’m hungry.”

Another Creepy Day

Another creepy day among the 12 Days of Creepfest. Don’t you just love it? Couldn’t you just eat it up?

Follow Friday on Twitter. Flash Friday around the web and here. Anticipation of the weekend. Friday is a great and mouth watering day that just drives you to take a bite out of life.

That is a lot of food references. I think I need some breakfast. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy another piece of flash fiction.

Don’t forget my contest. Write the scariest haiku and win two free stories from me.

L. E. White

Rumbly Tumbly:

He was hungry; a burning pain in his stomach that forced him to focus on nothing but food. He had to eat. He wanted nothing else, not drugs, not sex and not rest. The hunger pushed him around like a school yard bully.

He couldn’t understand why nothing he normally liked would satisfy him. Not the sandwich, the beer, hells bells, not even the pizza had done anything to make him feel better. He rummaged in the grocery store cooler but nothing sounded good.

Nothing, until he heard it. A deep rumbling thump that made his mouth water. A heartbeat?