We All Dream Of Iced Screams

Wax Audio: “Enter You”

Time for another Vampire Syndrome snippet! 😈

I’m standing near the entrance of a cave. The stars and a crescent moon are the only lights in the sky, yet I can see all the colors of the surrounding landscape as clearly as if it was daytime. Deep green grass and bright green leaves in the bushes at night. How can this be?
A man in a long black coat points toward the cave. His deep voice startles me.
“It’s time, Jack.”
Time for what? I look at my watch. Three-thirteen a.m.
I take a step, then hesitate.
Somehow, I know I have to go in there. But I don’t want to. Not just because caves are so spooky. I know something’s in there, waiting for me.
The man clears his throat and points again.
I walk slowly to the entrance. Looks okay so far. Time to go inside. It’s dark in here, but I can see everything clearly. The rock walls are filled with little sparkles of gold. Is this an old gold mine? Or maybe it’s all fools’ gold, like in the prospector shop near Buena Vista that Coach Ron and Diane took me to when I was eight.
A crashing noise, coming from farther down in the cave, startles me. Could have been a rock falling. If I keep telling myself that, I might even believe it.
The tunnel becomes steeper as I go down. A very cold breeze is blowing hard on my back. How come I’m not shivering? I don’t even have a jacket on, just a t-shirt and jeans. My brain knows how cold it is, but my body isn’t bothered by it at all.
I pass through the end of the narrow tunnel. Check it out, I’ve just entered a huge underground cavern. The ceiling is full of pointy rocks. Some of them are dripping water. This looks like Carlsbad Caverns, but without all the bright lights. How come I can see all the colors? Lots of brown, green, red, orange and tan. This place is a rainbow of rocks. The white crystal coating on top of the big brown boulders in the right corner makes them look like a giant bowl of frosted cinnamon rolls. Wish I had my camera.
To my left, one of the icicle-shaped rocks breaks from the ceiling and lands in a puddle of water. Was that the same rock-falling sound I heard before? I hope it was. Maybe an icicle rock falling on the floor of this cavern sounds different in the tunnel than it does here. At least I hope so.
I feel an urge to enter the dark tunnel directly in front of me. As if someone inside is calling out to me. But I didn’t hear a sound.
I heard it that time.
No, I didn’t hear it. It’s coming from inside my mind. Am I hearing voices?
A woman’s voice. Doesn’t sound familiar, but for some reason, I recognize it.
Gold and silver sparkles on the walls light my way along the tunnel. I increase my pace from walking to running with no extra effort. Feels like I’m moving on a fast conveyor belt.
At the end of the tunnel, a small cave. A beautiful woman stands before me. Her long, curly black hair covers the shoulders of her gold-trimmed black dress.
I know her, she knows me.
Her head is bowed down. Tears trickle down her face. Why is she so sad?
The woman yells, “Look behind you.”
I whip my head around.
Two pale white ghosts. One man, one woman. Both crying out, “Jack.”
It was the ghost woman I heard back in the cavern. Same voice, but now she’s speaking directly to me.
I dash in front of the sad woman. She leaps into my arms and I carry her. How can I be lifting her so effortlessly? I’ve had a harder time lifting a bag of kitty litter.
More ghosts approach us. The sad woman screams in terror. I have to get her out of here.
I run. Fast. Too fast. Even carrying the sad woman in my arms, I’m zipping through the tunnels and caverns like I was downhill skiing. Except I’m running uphill. How can this be?
The echoes of the ghosts calling out my name fade in the distance as I dash up the last tunnel.
Once we escape the cave, a crowd of people watch as I stop running. I release her from my arms and she stands up. We wave to the crowd. She leans down to hug me, her long black hair brushing against me as she kisses my cheek.
The crowd applauds and hollers. I study the people. Where’s the man in the long black coat?
Several men hoist me into the air as the crowd chants my name. Awesome, I’ve become their hero. The woman I rescued begins swaying her hips like a belly dancer. Two women join her in the dance.
I look toward the cave entrance. The man in the long black coat went in there. Somehow, I know he did. I’ve gotta get him out of there. The ghosts will get him.
A woman’s voice. “Jack?”
A nudge on my shoulder. How can that be? I’m way on top of the crowd carrying me.
“Jack?” I know her voice.
Someone just touched my hair.


Special thanks to Emily Guido for featuring Vampire Syndrome in Fangs and Hearts Week! 😀

Jill The Ripper

Can’t you hear me knockin’, yeah, down the gas light street, now

Here’s a snippet from Chapter Five of  “Vampire Syndrome”, in Damien’s point of view:

Interrogation Room Four. Taylor’s blonde girlfriend Lauren Heinrich has been chewing gum and filing her fingernail tips during my entire round of questioning. Vanity or nervousness? Probably both.
“Distinguishing characteristics?” I ask.
Lauren stops filing her nails.
She puts the nail file in her purse, then spits her gum into a tissue. Lauren fixes her gaze on mine.
“The kid had Down Syndrome,” Lauren says. “I used to live in Kansas City back in the forties, so I heard all about what you did to that one girl.”
Not only that, a bunch of damn loudmouth Vampires there are still yapping about it. Kansas City,  Missouri. Home of great barbecue and “Damien killed the retarded Vampire girl” stories.
“When you were living there,” I ask Lauren, “did you happen to hear any rumors about who may have sexually assaulted her?”
“No,” she replies. “Kansas City Security never even named a suspect. Sorta like Jack The Ripper.”
I snicker, then say, “The Normal detectives at London Metro never considered the possibility of a Jill The Ripper.”
“No way,” Lauren gasps. “She was a Vampire, right?”
“Who?” Lauren asks.
“Classified,” I reply, with a wink.
Lilith Morrigan. Our president. Also known, only to me, as Jill The Ripper. She didn’t seem to think any of those London hookers I was scouting out were worthy of becoming a Vampire and keeping me company.
Lauren asks, “Was this Jill The Ripper using her surgical tools to cut out her victim’s bite marks?”
Great. Lauren’s now interrogating me.
“Possibly. We don’t know for sure, Miss Heinrich.”
I had to love Lilith’s use of surgical instruments as the signature clue to throw off the Normals. “They say I’m a doctor now,” ha ha. Lilly carved their bodies like Pures cutting body parts from cattle. A clue only I would get. And she knew it.
Lauren leans in closer to me, smiles and asks “Is Jill The Ripper still alive?”
I really shouldn’t be answering Lauren’s questions, of course, but I admire her thirst for knowledge.
“The Council of Thirteen ordered the Venators, including myself, to conduct an official investigation. The results were inconclusive.”
No wonder. Lilly was Chief Venator back then. Our dear boss. She even had me scribble the From Hell letter and post it to George Lusk. That same letter is now framed on my desk, and Lilly’s Saucy Jacky postcard is locked in her wall safe.
Lauren asks, “How could the investigation be inconclusive when you knew she was female?”
Good question, Lauren. You might be a candidate to become a Security detective like Betty when you get older. Then you could investigate your boyfriend’s stupid pranks.
“The only Vampire who witnessed one of her killings didn’t provide us with enough details to make a positive ID. Our report states only that the suspect was an unidentified female Vampire.”
That Vampire hooker who caught Lilly in the act was not about to report who the killer was, even to us. Lilly told me afterward she “swore that whore to silence or death.”
“Well, Mister Chief Venator,” Lauren says, “I sure hope you catch this Down Syndrome kid.”
“Thanks. And don’t worry, Miss Heinrich,” I reply. “He’s handicapped. Once I find him, he’s done for. It’s not like he’s gonna be another Ripper giving us the slip.”