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Vampire Boys Of Summer (revamped) Ep. 8

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8: Cutter

Up in my room I cried. I couldn’t help it. Everything about the day came crashing over me. First, the Trumps and all their crap, the cellphone picture and the intruder who had taken it, the invasive feeling in the shower, My drunken mom oblivious to my needs as a daughter, dad locked up in an institution, and now this guy making fun of me, having a big laugh at my expense. It didn’t matter anymore if he was a vamp and needed killing. I was completely humiliated and made a fool.

I pulled open my desk drawer. It was reserved for my school work, but there was something hidden in that drawer that I desperately needed. I shuffled pencils and paperclips around, moved some papers, and then located it. It was a man’s open razor blade, the old kind they used to put in shaving razors and box cutters. It had a slight stain on its edge from use. I tossed it on the bed and sat down. The tears were much heavier now, and all I could feel was absolute anguish. I hated me.

I took my pants off and sat back in bed. My tank top was so long it covered my underwear and I fumbled with the bottom edge of it. The X-Japan logo instantly made me think of my favorite song by them, Tears. There was a line in there that said, “Dry your tears with love.” That was Bullshit, I thought. Tears can’t be dried. They are always there, and so I raked the razor blade across my leg just above the knee. I knew it would leave a little scar to go along with the previous ones, but I didn’t care. All I was was exemplified in the physical truth. I was nothing more than tears and scars.

Later, I lay in bed on top of the covers, the stinging from the six gashes on my upper leg keeping me awake. The blood had congealed and was caked on the wounds, a reminder of my pain and turmoil. I often pretended that everything was okay with me. Angela was oblivious to it all. It’s not that she didn’t care. It was just something I couldn’t share with her, or any of my other friends and classmates. This was the only thing I had that was all mine. Everything else had been torn from me by other people or life events and been put on public display. But a girl isn’t happy unless she has that one secret that nobody knows.

I guess I started cutting after dad got sent away. The public humiliation and teasing became a lot to bear. Mom disappeared into the bottle, I into the feel of a sharp razor across my skin. And I’m not one of those who did it just to feel something. Sometimes maybe that was true, but for me, I did it to cover up my real pain, my loneliness. It’s hard to be crying over someone hurting you or something depressing when your pain is real and excruciating. So, my physical attack on myself was to mask the real hurt. It’s the only way I could get beyond it.

I finally fell asleep around two AM and it wasn’t long before I was hardcore dreaming. I have really vivid dreams. I am one of those who can wake up and have instant recall of the dreamscape. A lot of people wake confused and disoriented, trying to grasp the images that fade at a rapid rate. But I’m not like that. I’m pretty clear headed when I awaken, even though it does take a while to rouse me from my deep sleep.

My dream that night was of the puzzle man. I was out there in the backyard again and he was handing me puzzle pieces to put in place. The puzzle was different and it kept changing every time I looked down at it. Once, it depicted a mound of decapitated heads stacked beside the flagpole of a school. Another time it was a young couple making love, a stake penetrating both of their bodies, impaling them to the ground. The next glance revealed a river of blood. Upon its banks, bloody swords were in the hands of massacred teenagers. Each time the image changed, the missing piece was a female face, which always turned out to be the piece in my hand. The bizarre vampire man, who again spoke in guttural noises, got up and scattered the pieces, overturning the card table with fury. A piercing sound erupted from his throat and it started to sound like a word: Imouto. He clenched his fists and shouted this several times over. Blood started to run down his hand where his fingers dug into the flesh. He offered it to me. I jolted awake.

Wide awake now and staring at the ceiling, I didn’t know what to make of the nightmare. None of it made sense. But it freaked me out just the same. It would be awhile before sleep came again, so I got up from bed, threw a robe over my t-shirt and underwear, and went to my window. I gently parted the curtains to look out, expecting to see vampire boy staring up at the heavens. But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The party was still going full force but I couldn’t hear anything from my house.

I couldn’t believe they were still going at it at this hour. It was a school night, damn it. And where did all these party goers come from anyway? If they had just moved to Chelsea Valley, how the hell did they know so many people? I couldn’t believe everyone came with them from their old house. While I was pondering this, the side door opened and the boy emerged. He had lost the uniform and was now in sweat pants and a tank top. The dim light from the stars illuminated his skin and for a moment I thought I caught a glimpse of a tattoo. The very edge of it seemed to peek out of his tank top, but I couldn’t tell if this was certain or just a trick of the light. I really didn’t care anymore. If he was the creeper who’d been in my room earlier it just allowed me to hate him more. It would be a long time, maybe forever, before I’d try to talk to him again. What he’d done was mean spirited and not funny at all. He had played with me in my awkwardness and uncertainty, and made me out to be a complete and embarrassed fool. He was no better than the Trumps, and once I had some rest, I was going to expose him to the sun and watch him burn with the same glee he had exhibited when he made fun of me tonight.

Read Ep. 9

“Vampire Boys Of Summer” 2018 Paul D. Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

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Ghost Boy Blues 10

Out in the hall we stand on shaky feet. Though much of the vertigo feeling has gone away, this host body is weak. Perhaps it is my presence that drains the energy, the fact that two should are now sharing a bodily apartment. For now we are roommates trying to get along until one moves out. Eventually, one will dominate the other. I cant imagine both minds swirling around in this flesh, bumping into each other and wondering who’s thoughts are whose.

We head down the empty hall, me inside the frame of Joey Mattson, the guy everyone else wants to be. And now I’m him. I could probably get any girl in school now. They all adore him. Even the teachers like him. The sky is the limit on what is achievable. But first, Joey thinks he needs to go to the bathroom. And so I relax, letting him go to take care of whatever bodily functions needs attention.

No one is in the restroom. He looks at himself in the mirror and splashes water in his face. It’s a weird feeling for me, seeing myself and knowing the face isn’t mine. This one doesn’t have acne, nor scars associated with it. The eyes are a different color, the cheeks higher, and when he smiles to check his teeth, I can’t help that they are much whiter than mine were. It takes some effort but I force hm to look down at his body. Even with clothes covering it, I can tell the physique is more appealing than mine ever was. I no longer inhabit a lanky body. Its easy to tell Joey works out. He is in top physical form. No wonder he’s popular with the ladies.

My thoughts must have been bleeding into his own for the vertigo returned and he hurried into a stall to throw up. He retched but nothing came. I could his confused mind asking what was wrong with him. I wanted to answer him back, ‘You aren’t just you anymore.’ I also wanted to direct him to get it together and just accept this. Go find the girl I jumped into this body for anyway. I don’t know if it was my thoughts or how he was feeling physically, but he went to retch again.

The bathroom door opened and someone came in. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stepped out of the stall, expecting to see a teacher. But it wasn’t one of the faculty. It was the football jock from class.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” my host replied. “No, I’m not sure.”

The jock walked to one of the urinals and unzipped. In the midst of relieving his bladder, he asked, “so, what’s wrong? You feel sick?”

“Yeah, a little, I guess.”

“You going to hurl?”

My host laughs. “No. I thought I was. I’ll be okay.”

The jock zips back up. “I hope so.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We all walk to the sinks, both guys washing their hands. Nothing is said for a moment.

“How did you get out of class?” My host asks.

“Oh that was easy. Teachers get uneasy when you say you cant hold it any longer. I threatened to piss in my seat.”

They both have a laugh at this and then proceed to dry their hands off at the wall mounted dryer.

“You better go back soon then,” Joey says. “It doesn’t take that long to pee.”

“Yeah, I guess I better. You sure you’re okay?”

I nod my head, or at least Joey does. I am just a spectator inside his body. And then I fell it. A butterfly kind of feeling, that spreads through my stomach and down my body. I wonder if he’s going to retch again right in front of this guy. Maybe hurl up on his shoes.

The jock smiles and turns to go, then stops. “I don’t care if you threw up or not.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He grabs my host’s face in his hands and kisses him.

+++++

Missed an episode? Ghost Boy Blues now has its own main page so you can catch up or start at the beginning. Find it Here

Wild Fire and Star Shine (flash fiction) (short story)

WILD FIRE & STAR SHINE

“Where’s Jack,” the little girl asked, finishing off her bowl of oatmeal and looking up at her mother hopefully.

Mother smiled. “He’s outside chopping wood.”

“He hasn’t left?”

Mom tried to muster a smile. “Not yet.”

Her daughter looked up from her breakfast. “But he will?”

“Eventually, I suppose.” She turned from her child to the sink. “They always do.”

The little girl put her spoon down and slid her chair from the table. “I wish one of them would stay. I always miss them when they leave.”

Then she was bounding out the door for the wood pile and the man who waited there.

“I do too, Sophie,” her mother said in her absence. “I do too.”

Sophie ran on ten year old legs around the back of the house where a man stood over a pile of logs he was in the process of splitting. Though it was fall and a little chilly at the base of the mountain, he worked shirtless, his muscles rippling with each swing of the axe.

The child watched him for a moment as he worked on the wood and then said, “I hope I have muscles like yours when I grow up.”

The man smiled as if noticing her for the first time. He looked at her, his sky blue eyes bright in the morning sun. “From what I have seen that would probably make people uncomfortable. Little girls aren’t supposed to dream of being men.”

“Mama says women can do things better than men. And that girls aren’t afraid of com..commi…”

“Commitment?” Jack suggested.

“Yes, commitment.”

Jack lifted his axe and brought it down on a log. “Well, your mom is probably right.”

“Are you afraid of commit..commitment?”

He snorted. “That’s a deep question for a little girl.”

Sophie sat down on one of the logs. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, little one.”

“Mama says you will. She says men don’t like baggage.”

Again, he smiled. “Your mama says a lot.”

Sophie brushed her chestnut colored hair off her face. “She likes you, you know.”

“I like her, too.”

She smiled mischievously. “Are you going to kiss her?”

“Sophie!”

The shout startled the girl, and she turned to see her mom standing there with two coffee mugs in her hand.

“That’s not the way girls talk to grown men,” her mom scolded. “Now go inside and get ready for school.”

“He’s not a grown man.”

“Sophie! Mind your manners and do what I tell you.”

The girl hung her head. “Yes mam.” She looked up at Jack who had a look of amusement on his face. “I’m sorry Mr. Jack. I shouldn’t have said that about grown up.”

The man sat down the axe and walked over to her. He jostled her hair with his hand. “It’s okay, wildfire. Maybe I do have a lot of growing up to do still. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks. Still not used to this air.” He winked and looked to the blue expanse of sky overhead. “I’m so used to cramped spaces and a faster pace of things.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “I’ll get used to it. But right now, you better do what your ma says.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied and headed off to the house.

Jack put his hands on his hips and looked at the girl’s mother. “Is that for me,” he asked, pointing at one of the cups in her hand.

“Um yes, of course,” she replied, trying not to look at his bare chest. She attempted to ignore how the sweat ran in rivulets down to his abs, disappearing into the top of his faded black jeans.

He took the cup she offered and drank from it in spare sips. Some of it missed his lips and ran down his chin, but he seemed not to notice.

“Thanks,” he said. “How do you say it? It hits the spot?”

“Yes, that’s what we say, “ she agreed, hoping he had forgotten the interchange between himself and her precocious daughter. He handed the cup back and picked up the axe again, hefting it over his shoulder to return to the task of woodcutting. “So, what is this thing about kissing?”

She dropped both cups. “Um..I..you have to understand something…about children. Sometimes…they, um, say the craziest things.”

He nodded as if digesting some new kind of information. “Hmmm. And is this something they grow out of?”

“Hopefully so.”

“This kissing thing then?”

“Don’t worry, “ she replied, her voice catching in her throat. “It will pass. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

He could tell she was nervous, that this was an uncomfortable kind of topic for her. He knew enough to change the conversation before it made her even more uneasy..

“How about them Cowboys?”

“Excuse me?” She asked.

“I saw that on the…what do you call it?…television. When you want to avoid a subject?”

“Um..yes, of course. How about them cowboys.”

She tried to muster a confident smile and turned to go back inside. She needed to check on Sophie and drive her to school or they would be late. She took one last look at Jack and almost felt sorry for him. Where he came from, on his planet, kissing must have truly been an alien concept.

Ghost Boy Blues 9

He is aware of me. He is trying to push me back out of his body, forcing me to be nothing but formless spirit again. But I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be unseen any longer. I want to be somebody. Even when alive, I wished to be be someone else, to stand in someone else’s shoes for awhile. Now fate had granted that to me. Now I would finally live.

I stand my ground against his push and fight back. I catch a thought as it passes by. “What is wrong with me,” it asks. “I don’t feel good.”

“Probably just a virus or something I ate,” I suggest, and he buys it, just as if it is his own mind telling him, instead of an outside entity.

This calms him down, and the sense of alarm he felt dissipates. I sigh. He sighs. We are one. For a moment, I wish to look around, to take in everything and see how others interact or wish to interact. But I realize I am no longer the invisible one. I am in a body. I can be seen. I put a hand to my mouth and cough. It is loud enough to cause several of the students to look in my direction.

A girl in the corner wearing a gray leather trench coat and goth makeup smirks in my direction. Though she’s not the type that normally attracts me, it feels good to be noticed. Even one of the football jocks looks at me. He doesn’t smile the way she does, but he nods his head to acknowledge me, and that kind of recognition is nice as well. I think of coughing again, but change my mind. There has to be other less mundane ways to get myself noticed. Before I know it, I have thrown my arm up in the air and am waving my hand. It’s not me who is doing this though. It is my host.

The teacher notices and stops what he is doing. “Yes, Mr. Mattson. What seems to be the problem?”

“Can I be excused? I’m not feeling well.”

The voice sounds strange. It isn’t mine, that’s for sure. But it comes from within me. I can feel the vibration of sound in my host’s throat as it forms into words. It is a weird feeling, but no less strange than sharing a body.

Joey Mattson, one of the most popular guys in school, was excused with no problem. The popular kids could be excused forty times a day and no one said a thing, but if I’d still been alive and in my own body I’m not sure I would have been allowed to leave.

He grabs his books and stands up. It is kind of jarring, as if I’m being yanked to my feet. Vertigo sets in for a minute and I feel dizzy. It seems to swim over him too and for a moment I think he just might throw up. He turns around to look at the football jock, who now has a worried, sympathetic look on his face. The goth girl looks somewhat amused. My host hurries out of the classroom, taking me with him.

To be continued…

Vampire Boys Of Summer (revamped) Ep. 6

 

Vampire Boys Of Summer (Re-vamped) Main Page

Episode 6: Loveless

I ventured downstairs around eight o’clock. Mom had left some meatloaf and potatoes in the microwave for me before heading off to work. How she managed to drink all day and then sober herself up enough to work the night shift at Walmart was beyond me. I heated up the food, but looking at the ketchup on top of the meatloaf turned my stomach. It made me think of the Asian man with the sneer and pointed fangs.

I returned to my room and decided to take a shower before heading next door. I needed something to steady my nerves. Part of me wanted to call Angela and tell her what had happened, but instead I just laid my cell phone on the bed and headed across the hall to the bathroom. I was so freaked out even the running water in the shower seemed menacing and intrusive. After a while, I scared myself into thinking I was being watched. I crossed my arms over my breasts and tried to turn away from the shower door, but I found myself looking over my shoulder, fearing that at any minute the vampire would come lunging through the glass just to get to me. And then I would be like that girl in the puzzle, helpless and hypnotized, a willing victim to the powerful creature of darkness.

I turned off the water, slid open the shower door and grabbed a towel off the rack. If anyone was in the room they were only going to catch a quick glance at me. I have never been self-conscious about my body, but I’m no exhibitionist either. I had worn tight or revealing outfits at times, maybe to go to a show or something, but I had never felt so exposed in all my life. I wrapped the towel around me and dashed into my bedroom. I closed and locked the door. Turning towards the bed, I noticed my cellphone was gone.

I froze to the spot. I knew I had put it on the bed. But now it wasn’t there. My eyes scanned the room. Perhaps my bathroom freakout was warranted after all. Someone had been here watching. And now they had taken my cellphone. I walked over to the window and looked through the blinds at the house next door. There were some lights on and I could see some movement in one of the rooms, but no one was outside. I heard the echoing sound of a tinkling bell from behind me, and I spun to the sound, dropping the towel in the process. Naked, I grabbed up the stake from the vampire kit still on the bed and scanned the room. There was no one there. Again, the bell sounded, soft and distant. It was my cellphone. Sitting on top of my dresser, plugged into the charger.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I had plugged it in before I headed to the shower and had just forgot about it. I went to the dresser and opened the top drawer. I grabbed some fresh underwear and slipped into them as quick as I could. Next drawer down, dark pants and a black tank top advertising an X-Japan concert my dad had taken me to in New York a couple years back. I turned away to grab my shoes and the bell sounded again. It was a cellphone notification of some kind. I woke up the phone and didn’t see anything to alert me to email or a message or anything. I hit the home button and pulled up the last used applications. The one at the top was the camera. I clicked it and the app opened to my photo gallery which was normal if you had just taken a picture. The top photo in the gallery brought me to a breathless stop. It was the picture of a tattooed moon, encircled by bloody vines, or perhaps veins. Under it were the words “Loveless”.

The first thing I thought was that was the name of my favorite song by Luna Sea, but then came the realization that this tattoo was on a boy’s hairless chest. And I knew for a fact I hadn’t taken it. I pulled up the tag info on the picture. It had been taken only a few short minutes ago, which meant there had been a boy in my room with a loveless tattoo and the balls to let me know he’d been there. But if he had thought to scare me with this, he was mistaken. Now I was pissed. I stuck the stake down the back of my pants and covered it with my shirt. I put the holy water in my front pocket and removed the crucifix from my dad’s vampire kit. looped it around my neck, letting it drop on its chain just out of sight down my shirt. I snatched the cell from the dresser and took one last look at the photo before sliding the phone in pocket. It was time to stake that pervert right through his tattoo.

Keep reading. Continue to Ep. 7

“Vampire Boys Of Summer” 2018 Paul D Aronson.

Waiting For The Cyclone (flash fiction, fan fic)

Another experiment in flash fiction, this little piece started with the first sentence at the starting gate of a timed writing exercise. I just start typing and let it rip. I quickly realized it changed from flash fiction to fan fic about the second sentence in. With that said I guess it can’t truly be flash, as in all fan fic you have some idea about events and characters before you start. Still, I do like what came out of the exercise and so I thought I’d share it. Hope you enjoy 🙂

“Waiting For The Cyclone”

She stands in the middle of the dirt road, the old farmhouse off to the left, the wide expanse of the prairie to her right. A hot afternoon breeze blows through her long brown hair. The hem of her gingham dress swirls around her legs, blown about by the same rhythmic wind that signals the coming cyclone. She has waited for this since childhood, keeping her lonely vigil, hoping the one that swept her away once before will return. They have told she is mad, perhaps “tetched in tha head”, but she knows her own experience as if it were written in a book or seen at the movies. It had swept her away before, far from the dying corn rows and starving animals of her Uncle’s farm. And though that had been years ago in childhood, as a young woman she longs for a similar adventure again, something to make her come alive and feel the impossible possibilities of youth. She has missed her friends from long ago, and has found herself unable to make new ones. She feels as if she is dying here, or will die alone at an old age always dreaming of something better, something more wonderful than any wizard could grant. What she needed was one more wicked witch and one less day of wasting away in her own longings. And so she waits for the cyclone, always on the horizon, yet never arriving, still hoping to find that “no place like home” kind of feeling.

Ghost Boy Blues 8

I approach him with caution, stepping on tip toe as if I’m trying not to be heard or seen. I tend to forget sometimes I am neither. No one notices me as I walk towards his desk, his back turned to me. He doesn’t hear my approach and it feels weird to be moving among a classroom where no one knows you even exist. They didn’t take notice of me when I was alive and they certainly have kept it up now that I’m a spirit.

I am standing at his back, reaching out, my fingers nearly touching his shoulder. For a moment , I am afraid of what will happen if I try to use his body as a host for my spirit. Will my soul be the dominant one and shove his to the side so that I will be in control? Or will I be a helpless observer, a mere presence within him that can’t control any aspect of his physical form? Possibly, we would coexist, but would be be aware of each other, or would our two personalities meld and mesh into one? Heaven forbid, I could even be trapped in that one body forever. Unable to escape and roam free again.

I pull my hand back. Though he seems the perfect boy to be, I’m not sure I want to be perfect forever. I just want to let the girl of my dreams know I adore her and maybe have the chance to have her adore me back. I’ve seen how she admires him. How he makes her smile and laugh. This may be my one and only chance to know firsthand of her affections. I used to sit in my seat dreaming I could kiss a girl like her. Now, here’s my last chance and I’m still too chicken to act.

I take a deep breath. Screw it. I’m not to going to blow this. I thrust my hand towards the boy’s back. I touch his skin, but cannot feel it. I am sinking into him, being pulled now by a force that compels me to become a part of this person. I am passing into him like smoke from a cigarette inhaled into the lungs. For a split second, his body jerks as if it knows an intruder has arrived, but then settles down and lets me in.

Once inside, I attempt to move his frame, and I tell myself to move his hand, but it’s now my hand too, so it obeys my command to scratch the crotch of his (my?) pants. I jerk the hand back quickly. It’s weird to feel his body. It’s like I’m touching someone else and it makes me feel violated somehow. I look around the room and know the head of this body is turning with me.

The other students seem to find this unusual. My host must be a very attentive student and not given n to distractions. Some of them curious looks on their faces. None of the faces belong to the girl I want. She is not in this class. I will have to wait out this period before going in search of her.

It’s then I feel a push, as if someone has just given me a shove in the chest. But its not something physical. This body hasn’t moved. No, this has come from within. The host is fighting back.