5 out of 5 stars: A deadly and dashing vampire
The tomb was silent.
Centuries had passed since that fateful night when Talan had been born into the world of darkness and shadow.
A naked, artificial, green Christmas tree (replaced every season) stood in one corner of this tomb; and there were no ornaments on this tree, no garland of any kind. The coffin he slept in was decorated with thick silver tinsel, and it draped and wrapped itself around this orifice of death like a shiny snake. Talan dared not play Christmas music because he was afraid of drawing attention to himself. People might discover his hiding place if they heard music playing up from somewhere deep in the Earth, no matter how far into the woods he made his lair. The tree and the decorated coffin were more than enough to keep him in a Christmas mood.
Talan raised the lid of the coffin (black, kind of rectangle, with gold handles and gold trim), stretched, and then pulled himself up and out of his bed. He was tall and lanky, six-foot five, turned to the blood at the ripe young age of 25. He had kind, softened, yellow eyes, smooth cream-colored skin, few wrinkles, and no facial hair. The brown hair on top of his head crawled down to the middle part of his back – clean and well-groomed.
He put the small item he slept with each night into the coffin and closed the lid. He took his small IPod out of his pocket, and slipped the ear buds out of his ear. He checked the battery. Almost dead. He found the power cord to it, and placed it along with the IPod into his pocket.
He took a moment to look around at his home tomb.
He loved it here.
The floors were made of a soft brown dirt. The walls and ceiling covered in grey concrete, streaked with dark spots of dampness. It smelled of vanilla, courtesy of a candle he lit each and every morning before he drifted off to sleep. There was a large door that protected Talan from the intrusions of the outside world. This door was solid thick granite, something only a vampire could move. Tacked to the wall in frames were small pictures of sunrises scattered throughout the world from mountains to beaches. He looked at these sunrises each and every night he woke up. It helped him to remember that once he was human, that once he loved, that once he was mortal. He found that by not going full vampire that it helped to keep him hunting evil doers. He was far less likely to attack good people if he could just remember that he once walked the Earth with a death clock in his head, counting down the hours until it was his time to perish.
While he stood in his dusty work boots and jeans, he adjusted his Jimmy Buffett concert shirt and tried to get his mind and body ready for this busy night. Buffett was an artist Talan always enjoyed listening to, and he found time to go see as many shows of this singer as he could. With his vampire skills, he was able to fly to any place Jimmy performed, slip in and slip out of the most secure areas, and enjoy Jimmy’s concerts in a way few fans have ever had the chance to do, hidden in the deepest parts of the stage’s shadows. It was such a fun show to witness. It reminded Talan of Christmas.
Talan had been following Buffett since the late Seventies when he had discovered the song “Margaritaville” playing on a jukebox in the back of a dusty bar, where he was having a small feast. As Talan drank freely of the drunkard in his arms, he had listened to the peaceful tune of that song, and fell instantly in love with it. Now, all these years later, he followed Buffett like any loyal mortal Parrothead.
By the way, in case you were wondering, that drunkard he killed that night –abused his spouse and his two children. He did things to them that were just, well, beyond words, and not worth mentioning. That’s kind of the code Talan lived by. Kill and drink from those who really deserve death, those who really are the worst of the worst. For a long time though, he was never like that. He had no one to train him, no one to teach him, no one to show him the right way and the wrong way to do things. He killed with reckless abandon, because his thirst and his hunger were just so strong that he couldn’t avoid it . . . to be continued next Sunday at 6 A.M. Did you miss a post? Check out the Category “Tales from the Blog” in order to catch up. Have a great Sunday.
Do you want to read the rest?
You can find it at the links below.