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| The Glitter Globe/S.R. Karfelt |
My hands are on the woman before I
think to resist. I’ve not taken a moment of her life, but I sense Jack fading
on the floor.
She’s soft, clean, and strangely
cooperative. Not until I taste dirt in her mouth do I know why she smells
Egyptian.
“Dorcas!”
I let go, and my wife leans over the altar table.
“Have
her, Drake. Hungry, Drake.”
I
stand. “You’ve not learned to leave innocents alone?”
She
scowls. “Nobody is innocent.”
“Least
of all you.”
Leaping
off the table she screams, “Will you throw it at me forever?”
“They
were our children!”
Dorcas runs from the room moaning,
not with guilt for sucking life from our children, but desire as she heads for
their statue in the sanctuary. Over the years she’s blurred their features with
licking.
“What’s
happening?” The woman’s eyes are clearing, fear replacing dimness.
“You’re
safe.” I can’t resist touching her skin. She eats too much sugar and smiles so often
lines deepen the edges of her mouth. There’s such life in her my mouth waters.
“You want me.”
Like my wife I have my own sins.
“Like hell!” She backs away.
Damn Dorcas stole strength from
me!
It fascinates me to see the chubby
woman staring daggers. I could make her obey, if I drain her unconscious friend
more.
“What
did you do to Jack?”
Dorcas
took too much.
“He’ll
be fine,” eventually, “despite breaking
into my—office.”
“You
knocked him unconscious for sneaking
in here?”
“You
could say that.” I offer a hand. “I’m Drake Amemphis.”
Ignoring it, she stands. “Poppy Wood.”
“I’d like you to take your clothing
off, Poppy Wood,” I say taking weeks from Jack. He’ll live. Just not as long.
“I’d like you to sod yourself, Drake
Ah-whatever.”
“Does that posh asshole thing usually
work for you?” Poppy fishes her phone out of the pocket of too-tight jeans.
“Usually.”
It’s not failed me once since I died, nor in life for that matter.
Poppy
bends over Jack to check his pulse and lift an eyelid as she dials. She may be
immune to my undead charm, but I move fast and relieve her of the phone. If I
had enough body heat and could work the touch screen I think I’d like these
things. I kiss her cheek and she turns her lips to mine.
I’ve still got it. I smile against Poppy’s lips as she
knees me in the balls.
It
doesn’t hurt, but one of them wedges inside. There will be no getting to the
main event until it drops. When we first died, before Dorcas drained the life
from our children, she used to do this for fun.
“That’s
rude,” I say against Poppy’s lips. She kisses me back and knees the other nut
up there. I lift her onto the altar. She wraps around me and gives me an
impressive kidney kick with a sharp heel, but the kisses never stop...to be continued next Wednesday.
For the next month or so I'm in Egypt doing book research. If you are enjoying Poppy and Drake's adventures, let me know. If not, there's a big fat internet out there for you to enjoy.
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| S.R. Karfelt |
A Vampire's Tale of Woe was written in 100 word increments for a quiet little writer blog. Usually I write an essay or some slam poetry for it, but after an inspiring trip to London I decided to see if I could craft a story 100 words at a time.
It wasn't easy! But the fun part is every piece had to forward the story. It kept me from waxing too poetic. Stop by next Vampire Wednesday for another installment of A Vampire's Tale of Woe by Drake Ahmemphis.
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