Vampire's Day Soiree 2015

Once again, its time for the Vampire's Day Soiree, an alternative celebration hosted by Hollyhorrorshow, whose blog resides at a place called Holly's Horrorland.

The Vampire's Day Soiree takes place on February 14, Valentine's Day. The celebration is in its fourth  year and I'm very happy to be a part of it once again.

Here's how it works: Participants first sign up by listing their blog at the appropriate place on Holly's page. This allows her readers to see just who is taking part. Then, when the big day arrives, all involved simply post something about vampires on their own blogs. The list on Holly's page allows her readers to navigate easily through all of the vampire material. Generally, there's a good deal of interaction in her comments section as well. All in all, it's a great celebration and a good place to meet other like-minded people.

This year, I am including an excerpt from one of my more recent short stories called A Fall from Grace: Metamorphoses. In the following passages, the vampire Lady Andrea seeks revenge for the kidnapping and demise of her human lover and blood donor.  

       Reverend Roy returned to the seat behind his desk, the abrupt noise having done nothing to assuage his anxiety. Next, the sound of tapping upon glass broke the silence. He glanced toward the window and seeing nothing, credited the patter to an overactive imagination. The tapping began anew, and this time he ran back to the window to investigate. What he saw made him gasp. On the other side of the glass hovered a large bat. It had a wing span of approximately a foot wide and as the creature remained in place. it seemed to be staring directly into his eyes. The anxious man jumped away from the window and pulled the curtains shut around it.

What’s a bat doing out there at this time of year? He wondered. It must have rabies or that other disease they get. That would explain everything. I’ll notify the proper authorities in the…

His thoughts were disturbed once again; this time, by a slow knocking at the door. With a profound sense of relief Roy extended the invitation.

“Come on in. The door’s unlocked.”

He gasped when he saw a woman stepping into the office. She was tall and sported a full mane of black and blue-dyed hair that cascaded well beyond her shoulders. She was adorned almost entirely in black with a velvet three-quarter length cape lined in violet. Her cloak only partially concealed her leather spike-heeled boots, and as she walked toward him, he caught glimpses of fishnet stockings, which contrasted sharply with the whiteness of her bare upper thighs and short red skirt. It occurred to him that the woman’s complexion seemed to be unnaturally pale. Yet there was no denying her captivating beauty.

She paused in front of him and removed her cloak, revealing more flesh, covered only by a leather corset. The woman stared directly at him with radiant green eyes. For a moment, he felt an urge to touch her, to run his hands along her smooth, flawless skin, to place gentle kisses along the exposed part of her cleavage. Yet, he dispelled the desire as quickly as it had come upon him.

Lead me not into temptation, he thought, averting his eyes away from her. Then, he spoke the words aloud.

“Lead me not into temptation.”

The woman smiled as she handed him her cloak.

“Would you see to a lady’s covering?” She asked.

Roy draped the cape across an easy chair situated by the far wall and then returned to her.

“What can I do for you, young lady?” He asked while attempting to hide his discomfort.

“Well now,” she responded, her eyes boring into his very soul. “You are Reverend Roy, aren’t you?”

“Why…why yes, I am,” he responded, showing his discomfort. “It’s a bit unusual for anyone to meet with me at this time of night. Besides, I’m expecting company and they should be here any minute now. If you’d like to make an appointment…”

“They won’t be showing up here any time soon,” she interjected. “

His mind began to race. What’s she talking about? She acts like she knows something. How could she?

“Who are you?” He asked. “What do you want?”

“My name is Lady Andrea, Reverend, and we have business, you and I. Why don’t you take a seat in your comfortable desk chair, and we’ll talk.”

Although disconcerted by this strange woman seemingly taking control of the situation, he moved behind his desk and took a seat. A growing unease took hold of him, a discomfort not only due to the carnal desire she invoked in him, but also from a growing fear that she might know something.

She smiled at Roy seductively as he sat down, amused at his discomfort.

“You seem awfully nervous,” she informed him. “You’re not used to being alone with a woman like me, are you?”

“I’m a man of God,” he responded. “And if I may say so, Miss, I’m beginning to believe that your intentions are less than honorable.”

“Ah, I see that you have a sound system here,” she said after looking around the room. “Good, let’s create a better atmosphere, one in which we can better discuss things, shall we?”

She walked over to the stereo and turned it on. The sound of Southern Gospel music immediately permeated the room.

“Ugh,” she recoiled. “That’ll never do for what I have in mind.”

Lady Andrea studied the system for a moment, and then began changing stations.

“Oh good, you’ve got satellite,” she exclaimed. “Who said you evangelicals don’t believe in science? Hmm…I should be able to find what I want here. Ah! There we go.”

Suddenly, the sound of heavy metal music filled the room. It was slow and mournful, but also powerful with the vocal sound of despairing death growls interspersed between heavy, distorted and dissonant guitar chords and symphonic orchestration. She turned off the light switch, thereby leaving on only the dim lamp on the top of the man’s desk. Dr. Roy reacted sharply.

“Now see here, young lady!” He began. “That evil music is not allowed on this Christian campus. I think you’d better leave.”

Andrea turned the music down a bit and smiling, sauntered over to the chair that faced his from the opposite side of the desk. She positioned it at just the right distance to give the man a full view of her. After sitting down, she slowly crossed her legs and gave him a seductive smile.

“That’s better,” she began. Now we can get down to business.”

“Why are you here?” Roy demanded.

“You see, Reverend. I had the most romantic evening you can imagine planned for tonight, just between my Jessie and me.”

A sickening and paralyzing fear gripped the minister when he heard Jessie’s name. His blood ran cold. Lady Andrea, sensing his sudden horror, grew more excited as she continued speaking.

“I’d never experienced such sweetness before I met him. Truth be told, I was planning to drain him dry when I caught him snooping around my house. He was such a pervert, staring at me from his window night after night while having nasty thoughts. But he was not only willing to surrender to my type of eroticism, but he reveled in it. That turns me on. And when I got the first taste of his blood…well, I almost lost myself in it.”

She stared hungrily at the man sitting before her. Andrea’s enthusiasm continued to grow with his rising level of disgust and fear. In the background, the music served to promote a sense of terror and even doom within him.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “Somehow, I managed to stop myself. When Jessie recovered, he agreed to my terms. He was mine and we had such a sweet, sweet love. But now, all that’s changed because you killed him.”

“I didn’t, truly I didn’t,” Roy responded, breaking into a sob. “It wasn’t me. I only wanted to save his soul.”

“By forcing him into the frigid waters against his will? By having your friends sink him to the bottom of the river?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said with hands covering his face.

Andrea knew that she had broken him. Now, it was time to close in for the kill. She stood up and moved to the other side of the desk where she removed his hands from his face and began stroking it with her own, seductively.

“What’re you going to do now?” He asked. “Call the police?”

“Of course not,” she said while continuing to stroke him. “There wouldn’t be any pleasure for me if I did that. Besides, I did have a special evening planned and I still intend to see it through”

At first, he felt a sense of relief upon hearing those words; but as he pondered their meaning, a sense of dread began to overtake him. Meanwhile, the unusual woman’s demeanor took on a more sinister tone. She got out of her seat and began pacing around him.

“To tell you the truth, Reverend, I can’t remember the last time I drank a preacher’s blood.”

“You’re crazy, woman!” He shouted, attempting to re-take control of the situation. “What manner of evil have you brought to these holy grounds with your talk of blood?”

She swooped back down in front of him without hesitation, pinning his shoulders against the chair while hissing with open mouth only inches away from his eyes. He saw her razor sharp, elongated canines and cringed in fear. Andrea took in his terror and then returned to a more gentle and seductive behavior. She sat upon his lap and began placing gentle kisses on his cheek while speaking to him in a soft, sensuous voice.   

There you have my contribution to the Vampire's Day Soiree. This and a collection of other shorts should soon be available in paperback. They'll be more on that when it finally happens. Meanwhile, enjoy the Vampire's Day celebration and be sure to check out the other contributions by going to the heart of the celebration at Holly's Horrorland.

Photo source Gothic Pictures Gallery
Author unknown

The Tale of the Hammersmith Ghost

Toward the end of the year 1803 residents of Hammersmith, a West London neighborhood situated just north of the Thames River, had become jittery as reports of ghost sightings in the vicinity of the local church yard and cemetery filtered through the community. Most of the locals believed the ghost in question to likely be the spirit of a former resident who committed suicide by cutting his own throat. It was widely believed at the time that the souls of suicide victims buried on consecrated grounds, such as a church cemetery, would not be at rest. This assumption, coupled with reports of sightings and even attacks, did little to assuage the neighborhood's growing sense of trepidation. 

One night a young lady on a late return home from work decided to take a shorter route to her house by cutting through the churchyard and burial ground. According to her own description, she suddenly saw something rising up from the grave markers. The lady attempted to flee but the ghost, being too fast for her, quickly caught up and pressed her into its arms. Some neighbors found her lying unconscious several hours later and brought her home. As the tale goes, the frightened young woman retired to her bed on that night and never arose. She apparently, had died of shock. After this turn of events a sense of terror engulfed the entire community. 

Francis Smith, a local excise officer, didn't believe in ghosts and took it upon himself to look into the entire matter. On the night of January 3, 1804 Smith set out for the churchyard with blunderbuss in hand. Upon reaching Black Lion Lane, he was startled by what appeared to be a white figure heading in his direction. Smith opened fire and the ghostly figure fell to the ground. It was only when the gunman ran to the fallen figure that he realized his fatal mistake; for that which lay before him was no ghost but instead, was the body of a local bricklayer named Thomas Milward. The dead bricklayer had not been impersonating a ghost but instead, had been wearing the clothing of his trade. 

Thomas Milward's body was taken to a nearby pub and inn known as The Black Lion. Francis Smith was found guilty of willful murder and sentenced to death. Due to the unusual circumstances surrounding the case however, Smith's sentence was commuted to one year at hard labor. Still, the ramifications of Smith's actions, the mistaken killing of an innocent man, plagued the British legal system until it was finally settled by another court case in 1984. 

Eventually the truth about the Hammersmith Ghost came into the light. All the fear and confusion had been caused by another local man, who had been disguising himself as a ghost in order to scare another individual; this, in revenge for frightening his children with ghost stories. 

Although there had been no real ghost in the Hammersmith community during those opening years of the nineteenth century it is said that several ghosts now haunt The Black Lion. Not surprisingly, the spirit of Thomas Milward, whose dead body had been brought there so many years ago, is believed to be one of them.

For further reading: 
Wikipedia: Hammersmith Ghost Murder Case

Proceedings of the Old Baily: London's Criminal Court 1674-1913: Francis Smith Killing
 

The above photo is in the public domain. Author unknown.
 

A Very Special Christmas Eve: A Short Story

Johnny and his little sister Stacy went to bed earlier than usual that night, but they didn't mind. It was Christmas Eve after all, and what child isn't willing to sacrifice a bit of play time when he or she knows that turning in early might just hasten the arrival of Saint Nick? The last thing they did before retiring to their rooms was to watch their mom place a cup of hot tea and a small plate of chocolate cookies on the counter for Santa. "The jolly old elf travels all over the world through the cold and snow every Christmas Eve to deliver toys to good little girls and boys," she would often tell them. Both children took her at her word because...well, didn't they receive the toys they asked for the last couple of years?

During the year Mom would often warn her children that Santa only brought presents to youngsters who behaved. Stacy generally tried her best to do what was right, never forgetting her mother's warning. She felt confidant that, after having asked Santa for some new dolls, that he would deliver the goods as he always had. The one thing she couldn't understand though, is why her marionettes would disappear during the weeks and months that followed Christmas. She knew that she loved them and took good care of them; yet, they would sometimes simply vanish from her room. Whenever she complained about these events to her parents, they generally brushed off her concerns dismissively, telling her that she simply needed to stop leaving her things outside where other kids or the neighborhood dogs could run off with them.

Johnny, being a couple of years older than his sister, really didn't buy into his mother's warnings that Santa only brought toys to children who behaved. Johnny had a secret. He knew what was happening to Stacy's dolls because he would sometimes sneak into her room while she was out in the yard playing with her girlfriends. He would then take them out to the nearby creek; and after pretending to drown them, would gouge their eyes out with his pocket knife before cutting off their heads and tossing them into a nearby trash can. Upon his return home from these occasional escapades, he delighted in hearing his parents chastise his teary-eyed sister for once again neglecting to take care of her things.

The boy had a mean streak when it came to girls and his sweet sister Stacy was not exempt from his hurtful machinations. Still, he felt confidant that Santa would once again bring him toys this Christmas Eve.

Stacy climbed under the covers of her comfortable bed; and with visions of sugar plums and new dollies dancing in her head, she fell into a peaceful slumber. Johnny on the other hand, decided to remain awake. He would listen until he could be sure that his parents had gone to bed. Then, he'd lie in wait for Santa, determined to catch a glimpse of him.

Within an hour the sounds from the TV ceased and Johnny heard, amid his parent's playful banter, the door to their bedroom close shut. He quietly climbed out of bed and gazed out the window, searching for any signs of Santa's sleigh or his reindeer. The snow, still falling on a gentle breeze, made the neighbor's colorful light display across the street seem all the more authentic. It's really Christmas, he thought to himself. Santa should be here with my presents any time now! 

His thoughts were distracted by a sudden pitter patter on the roof followed by the sound of footsteps. Johnny could barely contain his excitement as he stole quietly toward the living room, which contained both the family tree and the fireplace. That's where he knew he would find Santa. Reaching the end of the hallway, he poked his head around the corner for a first peak.

Without warning, a dark, hairy, claw-like hand  grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him around the corner in one fluid motion. The boy gasped, but before he could even utter a sound one of the hands covered his mouth, making any cries for help impossible. Johnny struggled, but it was to no avail. Still, he couldn't see just who or what was holding him fast.

He heard a hissing sound just before his captor spun him around without removing the hand from his mouth. His blood ran cold as he gazed at the creature holding him in place. No, this wasn't Santa Claus, whom he'd been hoping to spy upon just moments before. Instead, he found himself staring into the face of a most hideous thing. The creature before him was tall and furry with a long snake-like tongue dangling from its mouth. Its ears were large and pointed; two curved horns grew out of its head. Attached to the body's backside was a long, pointed tail. Overall, the monster's body appeared somewhat man-like, but Johnny knew this was no man. The creature holding him seemed more like the Devil than any man he'd ever seen.

Pure terror gripped at him as the creature opened the top of a large wooden basket before placing Johnny inside and once again closing the lid. The boy screamed at the top of his lungs, calling to his parents for help-- calling to Santa, but it seemed that no one could hear his anguished cries.

His abductor strapped the basket to his shoulders before ascending the chimney to the roof where a sled awaited him. He gave a push with his left foot and the sled lifted off on the snow-laden breeze toward a destination only known to him.

Some hours later, the mysterious being approached a shadowy, misty castle that stood upon a mountain top populated by twisted, deformed trees. The large door at its entrance creaked open at his approach and closed shut again once he was safely inside. After disembarking from the sled, the creature removed the basket from his shoulders and opened the lid, allowing Johnny to climb out.

The boy's eyes opened wide in disbelief as he looked around the large, gloomy, torch-lit hall. He could hear the cries of other children, both male and female. Their moans seemed pained and anguished.

"Where have you taken me?" Johnny asked, crying. "I want to go home."

"Home, so you can steal your sister's dolls?" The creature asked. "Home, where you delight in her pain and her tears? I think not. This is your home now, and as you can hear, there are lots of other children here to play with. We're going to have lots of fun watching you learn what meanness really is."


The frightening being's tongue dripped saliva as he hissed once again while continuing to look down at the terrified boy.

"Merry Christmas, Johnny! Welcome to your new home: The Castle of Gruss Vom Krampus!"

The sound of his deep laughter reverberated throughout the shadowy chamber.


Copyright © 2014 A.D. Vick, All Rights Reserved


 The above illustrations are in the public domain.      



   

A Dark Dream

I have a Facebook friend with whom I've become acquainted over the past several months. There are a few things that really impress me about this lady. First of all, I think she'd make a wonderful Morticia Addams; that is, if they ever get around to making another Addams Family film or TV series. Another thing I appreciate about her is that she's really likes metal, and is solely responsible for posting an Insomnium video that got me interested in that band. 

A third thing that tickles my fancy is the way in which she often closes out her Facebook interactions for the day by telling her friends, "Happy Night and Dark Dreams!" 

This got me to thinking. Hmm, I wondered. Does she have dark dreams often? More often than me? Do I ever have them?  

After a bit of dream recall, I came to the conclusion that although my subconscious mind occasionally explores the darker realms while I sleep, it doesn't occur as much as it should, considering my indulgence with Gothic literature, horror movies and an abundance of metal and dark-wave music. A dream I had last night however, has given me a moment of pause. It was vivid, emotional and offered almost extra-sensory insights throughout its duration. This one was good enough to write about. 

The dream began with me being taken to the top of a mountain in an open-air, antique vehicle. The car resembled something people drove around during the decade between 1910 and 1920. I had a job to do upon reaching my destination, but I wasn't clear on what that job actually was or how I would accomplish it. What I did know was that I was dressed in top hat and finer Gothic attire than I can actually afford to buy. My destination was a church upon whose grounds a dark goddess had settled. She was reportedly, growing in physical size as well as power. 

I was impressed with what awaited me at the top of the mountain as the church was situated on grounds that offered a spectacular view of the community and extending landscape down below. The place of worship itself resembled such structures built during New England's colonial period. There was a bell tower, which extended upward from the front entrance, and the building extended toward its rear in a series of interesting archeological configurations, all the while maintaining its colonial/puritan ambiance. The grounds surrounding the church consisted mainly of well manicured lawns, which were bordered by sizable tracts of forest. 

My companions led me into the church through the back door, where I would apparently, be received by the church minister and perhaps part of the congregation. Upon entering, I noticed a somewhat spiral stairway leading downward. On those steps stood a man--a fearful man. He extended a crucifix in my direction with one of his hands as he crouched against the wall. His actions both amused me and made me feel powerful. 

"Your crucifix can't hurt me," I told him with contempt. "It has no effect at all."

As I stood facing the stairwell, I contemplated whether my darkness made me evil. My nature had certainly unnerved the man with the cross. Yet, I intuitively felt that he was just a weak, fearful person totally incapable of understanding me. No, I'm not evil, I realized, and neither is the goddess everyone wants me to confront. 

A small group of people greeted me as I stepped further into the hallway. The main part of the church lay just beyond. The minister was a youngish-looking man wearing a flannel shirt. As I stood by him and his small group I realized that they were members of a fundamentalist sect; and although they clung faithfully to their Bible-based beliefs, they were incapable of approaching any goddess. I viewed them as I had the man with the crucifix, weak and superstitious. Still, I remained courteous and respectful.


They led me outside the back door and took me to the edge of the lawn. Before me, and on a leveled off piece of land just below our high position on the mountain, stood what appeared to be a large statue. It was the goddess. She towered over everything else in sight and stood gazing out into the distance. One of her hands extended outward and somewhat upward. In it she held a burning torch, as if pointing it at the entire world. I'd never had any dealings with her before, but I could feel her power. What is she planning to do? I wondered. How will I even approach her? And when I do, what do I say to get a dialog going? 

That's where the dream stopped. I'll never know how things would have turned out. Still, the dream was dark and everything I could have hoped for. Now I know how vampires must feel.


Photo source: Gothic Pictures Gallery
Author unknown