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Zombie Drift 6: Lynn

Six: Lynn

Lynn Billiot sat in a lounge by the pool. Her writing notebook sat in her lap as she jotted down three observations. One: life aboard a cruise ship hadn’t been what she expected. Two: Her parents didn’t understand her melancholy. Three: See observation one and two. The problem was this cruise was a long time coming. Meticulously planned a long time in advance, it was her parent’s present to her for graduating high school a year early. She guessed they thought the blazing sun and rolling sea would be a great reward and escape from their home of chill air and drifting snow. The truth was she missed Alaska. School in Anchorage, spending summers with her grandparents further north in Fairbanks. She missed how small life seemed to be. While others might be bothered by the isolation, the true isolation was being on a boat full of people and still feeling alone. She missed her best friend Jessica. She missed Ranger, her gray malamute dog. She missed the inspiration that came to her on early mornings while looking out the window on the Alaskan landscape.

The landscape on the St. Fitzgerald was much different. The sun back home was bright and blinding, but here it was burning hot. As such, both men and women seemed to don as little clothes as possible. She wasn’t used to that either. Clothing was a necessity where she came from, but here it seemed to be more an accessory, something to enhance one’s figure or draw attention to its shortcomings. Lynn really didn’t have to worry about that. She was a cute girl. At seventeen she was more woman that she ever felt before, with long dark hair and deep, knowing eyes, a dusky complexion that never seemed to need makeup, and a friendly nature that seemed to attract others back home. But she didn’t want to attract anyone here. Even the cute Asian boy standing at the ship’s railing staring wistfully out on the ocean.

What she wanted to attract however was a story. All her life she wanted to be a writer. She listened to stories of her Inuit people and longed to enthrall readers the way she herself had listened to storytellers weave a spell around the spoken word. She looked down at her notebook and a thought came into her head. Perhaps it was inspired by the episode of “The Walking Dead” she’d watched the night before, or maybe it was the feeling of foreboding that had dominated her time on the cruise. Either way she began to write.

“In the staggering crowd, Alisa ran. She didn’t want to be like everyone else. She didn’t want to be a zombie.”

She stared at the words and smiled, hoping this was the beginning of an exciting story. She put pen to paper again and was getting ready to write the next line when something caught her vision. A statuesque blond haired girl, wearing a two piece bikini that may have been three sizes too small strutted across the deck on the way to the pool. Though it seemed her goal was to attract attention to her golden bronze tan and her long shapely legs (and other body parts) it seemed she was attracting the wrong kind of guy. The man was following close on her heels. Solidly built, he wore khaki shorts and a colorful Hawaiian shirt. He was tagging so close that if the girl had stopped walking he would have plowed right into her. Lynn shook her head. She wanted to ask him if he’d ever heard of personal space, but then he zipped around the blond girl and was moving just as quickly away from her. Maybe he wasn’t following her after all she thought, but it gave her an idea for the next line of her tale.

“Someone was following her though. And this was no zombie. This man walked with purpose. This man was dangerous, someone on a mission. Maybe he was the one who would save them all from the zombie horde.”

Pleased with the few lines she’d just written, she looked up. Brushing hair out of her eyes, she saw both the man and girl were gone. There were others on deck, some just milling about around the pool, others on their way to other onboard destinations. The Asian boy still stood at the railing admiring the sea. She watched him for a moment, thinking to herself that his lithe, toned frame would be perfect for the upcoming protagonist in her story.

As if feeling her eyes on him, the Asian boy turned his head in her direction. Lynn immediately dropped her eyes in embarrassment. But before she did, she thought there was something very familiar about his face. He was strikingly good looking and could have been a model with his photogenic face. Small eyes, cute nose, perfect hair. His full, flawless lips looked as though if he opened his mouth, nothing would come out except the most beautiful melody. And that’s when it hit her. She knew where she’d seen his face before. Plastered all over her friend Jessica’s bedroom wall.

Lynn had always like the rugged Hollywood type, but a year ago Jessica had gotten bit by the k-pop bug. A musical genre from South Korea, it was an addictive blend of urban hip-hop, R&B, pop, and dance that had swept even Lynn’s part of the United States. And on Jessica’s wall was her favorite k-pop idol, New Yeong.

There was no way this could be the same guy though. Despite the similarity, why would a k-pop star be on an American cruise ship off the coast of South Carolina? Jessica’s dream boy was probably in South Korea getting ready for a photo shoot or TV appearance. Lynn laughed to herself, thinking it would have been something to get an autograph for her friend, but this boy was no….

She stopped. Did someone just say zombie? Lynn had pretty good hearing and she could have swore someone had just said the word her whole story was based on. Taking her eyes off the Asian boy, she cast a look around her, trying to find the person who’d spoken. It only took a second. There were two older women standing by the pool. One was showing the other her tablet. The other was exclaiming, “there’s no such thing as zombies!”

The first one was shaking her head madly. “Well, look for yourself! I’m not making it up! This is in Charleston right now!”

Lynn stood up. The hair was standing up on the back of her neck. She had to see what they were freaking out about. She looked back to the boy at the railing and noticed he was climbing it. What in the world is he doing, she thought. Before she could dwell on it much, the two women yelped and the one dropped the tablet. It momentarily distracted her, but something about the boy held her attention. He was nearly standing on top of the railing now. Oh shit, she thought. He’s going to jump.

TO BE CONTINUED

Zombie Drift 2018. Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

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Zombie Drift 1: Captain Walker

Zombie Drift

One: Captain Walker

Captain Charles Walker sat on the edge of the bed. Already dressed in his crisp white uniform, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, repeating the action twice before reaching for his cap and placing it on his head. Coming into port was always a nerve wracking experience. He preferred to be out in open waters and not have to deal with corporate bureaucrats and shareholders. He’d rather swim with sharks. It didn’t help that he was the youngest captain to be employed by Ever Sail Cruise Lines. And it didn’t matter that he’d come from a long line of sailors, including his great uncle Shelton who had guided boats onto the beaches of Normandy during WW2. This was only Walker’s second voyage as a captain, and though the trip to the usual Caribbean ports of call had been a success, coming home was always worrisome. Of course, home wasn’t really home to the Captain. Home for the ship was the port of Charleston, South Carolina, but the real home for Charles was Goolwa, a tourist town on the South Australian coast. It was there he first learned to sail as a boy on The Murray River as it wound its way into Lake Alexandrina, and indeed the ocean. And though his apartment in South Carolina overlooked the waters of the Atlantic, it was nothing compared to his childhood home.

With that memory hanging there in his mind, he stood up, adjusted his cap and looked in the stateroom mirror. He’d forgotten to shave. While it wasn’t a requirement, he knew his bosses preferred a smooth face. It was an American thing, he supposed. “Crikey,” he mumbled, using the phrase every American adored and most Australians never uttered. Walker said it rarely, but he knew he’d hear it five times or more before he ever put the ship into dock, so he might as well embrace it.

He left his quarters, shut the door and locked it. He headed down the corridor, now bustling with crew activity. Amid salutes and “Good day, sir” it lifted his spirits. He didn’t feel so lonely once he was among his crew and the scent of the ocean air. Today the St. Fitzgerald would dock into Charleston, unload passengers, pick up others, and then head up the coast where they would unload guests again, this time closer to the Nation’s Capitol. With any luck his sea legs would touch land soon and he’d be disoriented standing on a surface that didn’t sway beneath his feet.

He stepped out onto the deck to take in the full effect of the sea breeze, but before he could even take one breath, he saw Blake Travers, the ship’s Communications Officer, heading his way. The man’s yellow blond hair was a disheveled mess and the disturbed look on his face wasn’t much better.

“Morning, Cap’n,” Blake said with a salute. He was nearly out of breath and had to wait a second to continue. “Looks like Brekkie and Shine is going to be delayed .”

Captain Walker knew the young officer was trying to use Aussie slang to cover up for something. He appeared nervous, but that was no excuse to butcher his normal way of speaking. It was downright embarrassing. “How so?” he asked the young man.

“We’re getting some garbled messages from the port offices. It’s static mostly. Like there’s some kind of interference. But I caught something underneath it all. It was a message saying something about being overrun.”

“Are the docks full?”

“It could be, sir. Every cruise line likes to connect in Charleston. We will be in sight of the port soon.”

“Well, keep me informed, Travers. I need to make a few inspections be we arrive. Reps from the line are going to want to board and see what kind of fault they can find in my leadership on our second voyage out.”

“You’re a fine Captain, sir.”

Walker raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Well..uh..I mean, sir…”

The Captain smiled. “It’s okay, son. I thank you for your support and compliment. I will take it with pleasure…and possibly some coffee..”

The Com officer’s face lit up, for he was all too eager to please his chief. “Right away sir!” He saluted and dashed across the deck to a coffee station that had been set up for passengers.

Walker watched him for a moment. Because of his own age, it was hard getting used to the fact of having subordinates, those that were beneath him in rank. It was just a year ago that he was behaving in the same manner, bending over backwards to please his commander so as to earn a spot at the Captain’s Table. He usually picked one or two of his crew to join him for dinner, along with a few distinguished passengers. He made a mental note to include Travers this evening just as the young man returned with the cup of hot java. Walker took a hesitant sip to avoid the burn of the fresh brew, and then let out a satisfied sigh. One could always tell what kind of day it would be by the taste of his coffee. It was going to be a fine morning indeed.

Charles didn’t even give a thought to the Traver’s news of garbled messages. Things like this happened more frequently than not. Even with new equipment outfitted on a relatively new ship, problems arose with communications from shore. He was confident the next contact would not be garbled at all, but a clear message directing them where to dock because of the heavy boat traffic.

He went back inside. Descending two levels into the ship, he came out in the deck known as Reliant. Among the crew it was called Hungry Alley, as it housed several kitchens, sleeping quarters for the galley crew and waitstaff, as well as numerous food storage rooms and walk in freezers. It was here Captain Walker checked on his friend, the ship’s Master Chef, a man simply known as Wu. An Asian-American from San Francisco, with glossy black hair forever hidden under his Chef’s hat, he and his family were residents of the St. Fitzgerald. Along with his wife and two sons , they all worked on board the ship. His wife was the hostess of The Starlit lounge, a jazz influenced bar situated on the first deck down from the top. A popular spot for adults to while away the cruise while listening to a live jazz ensemble, the lounge was one of the Captain’s favorite public places on the ship, and it was there that Wu’s two sons tended bar and knew how to mix Walker’s favorite drinks in exact fashion.

“Morning, Chef,” Walker greeted his friend. While to some it may have seemed the Australian and Asian-American made on odd pair, they didn’t know the history. Of how Wu had befriended a young, and very seasick, Charles Walker, on his very first ocean cruise. Discrete and supportive, the older man had nursed the future captain back to health and informed him the open sea was a lot harder to get used to than a winding Aussie river.

“Morning, Captain,” Chef Wu returned, before noting the cup of coffee in the commanding officer’s hand. “You know it’s an affront to us when you bring the java of mortals into our domain.”

Charles laughed. He loved the informal way in which the chef spoke to him. No salutes, or standing at attention, just the ease of pleasant company. Here among the kitchen staff he didn’t feel like a captain, but as one of them, and he liked it that way. It was the one place he could go and…

He stopped before shaking hands with his friend. He looked above his head as if he could see up through the decks and into the open sky. And though most couldn’t tell it, he could. The ship was slowing down…

TO BE CONTINUED

Zombie Drift Episode 1 . Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

Vampire Boys Of Summer (revamped) Ep. 67

Vampire Boys Of Summer

67: Officers In Blue

The first one came forward. Ryo held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey big guy, we were just leaving like we were told to. We leave, you return the girl. That’s the deal.”

The guy looked confused at first. It reminded me of someone who is getting instructions through an earpiece. It is was easy to see he wasn’t a vampire. None of these jock guys were. They were human slugs under someone else’s control.

“The deal has changed,” the guy finally said. “You leave. We keep the girl. You don’t die.”

Ryo lowered his hands. “Wow, I’m impressed. You actually strung some words together to make a complete sentence.” He began to applaud.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Haru squeezed my hand as if to say, brace yourself.

I heard the whir of the spinning nunchuck before I saw it. One of the other hulking guys had begun to show off his expertise with the weapon, though he held back to see what Ryo was going to do to their spokesperson.

“You know,” Ryo sighed. “You guys should have brought throwing stars instead.”

Before anyone could even respond, his arm shot out and his open palm connected with the jock’s chest. The force was so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of the guy. It wasn’t designed to harm the boy however. It was merely intended to shove him backwards a few feet, just enough to make him stumble into the path of his friend’s twirling nunchuck. The weapon, essentially two pieces of hard wood connected by a chain, slammed into the guy’s head, which stopped the momentum of everyone.

Ryo ducked and spun around the guy’s now falling body and popped up in front of Mr. Nunchuck. Again, his open palm was Ryo’s weapon of choice and it slammed up and across the bridge of the second assailant’s nose. There was a brief spray of blood, but Ryo ignored and it and charged the third footballer. This guy had the brass knuckles and was a more prepared than his friends had been. He managed to land a blow across Ryo’s cheek. There was a cracking noise and I gasped, thinking the guy had managed to break some bones in Ryo’s face. But the cracking hadn’t come from that. It had come from the fact Ryo had grabbed the guy’s wrist just as his fist had landed the blow. In one swift motion, he snapped the bone. The guy screamed in pain, and Ryo swept his legs out from under him with his foot. All three of the attackers were now on the ground in various degrees of pain.

Ryo stood over them , looking down as they writhed on the ground, moaning from their injuries. “Now, you tell your master….”

The kids dropped from the trees. There were more than we initially thought, and they were all landing either on Ryo or around him. Before he could even react he was buried breath a pile of rabid, foaming at the mouth children.

Chi broke off from our group and charged into the fray. She started pulling the kids off Ryo. I could tell she was trying not to harm them, but it’s hard to avoid injuring others when you are flinging them through the air. I couldn’t believe all this was happening. Just what was the purpose of this whole confrontation. They had to know this wouldn’t stop my friends. Why were they trying to delay us?

Luhan was getting agitated by all this as well, and looked to be ready to join Ryo and Chi, but Haru put a hand on his shoulder. “They can handle this one,” he said. “Let’s get to the car.”

“You’re going to leave them?’ I asked.

“They’ll catch up. We have to keep moving.”

I looked at the melee under the trees. Ryo and Chi were pushing kids away from them the best they could, but once you got three off of you, three more took their place. It was like trying to swat pesky flies at a barbecue.

We moved around them, Haru, Luhan, and I. We ran across the yard, aiming for Haru’s car. It had miraculously survived my driving skills from where we had raced home from the hospital. Hopefully, I t would get us up to the lake before night fully descended.

As we reached the car and Haru threw the rear doors open, I looked back. Ryo and Chi were still under assault, but now they had bigger worries. The football jocks were getting back up and they didn’t look happy.

“Haru?…”

I turned to look at my love, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the two police officers coming across the yard towards us. They wore blue uniforms and walked with a determined gait. They both had a pair of handcuffs in their hands. One also had what looked like a taser. But what really bothered me were the fact that they were police at all. You see, Chelsea Valley didn’t have a police force. We had sheriffs, and they dressed in tan, not blue.

“Nora, Luhan,” Haru said quietly. “Get in the car.”

I dared another look back at Ryo and Chi. I noticed Ryo had lost his advantage and the three hulks had drove him to the ground and were kicking him in the ribs. Chi was running across the grass towards her. She was screaming something. I thought it sounded like “Trap!”

“Nora Williams,” one of the officers in blue intoned. His voice was menacing and deep.

Luhan came around the car to confront them. It looked almost silly, these two tall policemen being confronted by a guy who looked all of twelve on a good day.

“You can’t take her,” Luhan said.

Both officers smiled and it was scary. They didn’t have fangs or anything, but their mouths looked dingy and dirty, as if they had been napping in a dirt grave for forty years.

“We didn’t come for her,” one of them said, pointing a taser at Luhan. He fired. The electric charge surged through Luhan like a bolt of lightning. The little guy’s body spasmed and he fell to the ground, flopping around on the grass, as the massive amount of electricity passed through him.

I heard a scream and at first thought it was me. But it wasn’t. It was Chinatsu. And she was leaping through the air. She touched down in front of the guy with the taser, smacking it right out of his hands. She grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. He brought a hand up in an attempt to do the same to her, but she was too fast. She caught his wrist before he made contact. For a second she seemed frozen in time, one hand around his throat, the other clenching his wrist, and then her hands moved in opposite directions so fast I barely saw it. But I heard it. The cracking of his wrist bone. The snapping of his neck. He didn’t even have time to scream. He crumbled in a heap at her feet.

The other guy had grabbed the unconscious Luhan, whose body was still twitching through the after effects of the electric shock. He hauled him up and over his shoulder and was breaking into a run for the police cruiser.

Chi snatched up the taser, angrily crushing it in her hand, and then went after him. Haru looked at me as if he were going to leave my side and give chase as well, but then he grabbed me shoving me in the back seat of the car.

“Keep your head down, “ he shouted, shutting the door once I was all the way in. Before doing as he said, I glanced out the window and saw all three of the footballers running towards us. I couldn’t see what had happened to Ryo, but the fact they were now coming after us didn’t bade very well.

Continue to Ep. 68

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

Ghost Boy Blues 18

Eighteen

When you’re dead, thoughts come out of nowhere. They aren’t always linear, or even clear, but when they come, they seem to dominate everything else. Looking at Anne, she looks like a deer caught in headlights. I catch a quick vision of an oncoming car, a distraught Anne, an emptying of her soul. And then it is gone. Not only do thoughts come out of nowhere, they sometimes disappear before you can analyze them.

Before I can try to grasp the thought again, there is a light tap on the door, prompting Assistant Principal Deaner to say, “Come in.”

The school secretary, a white haired woman whom some say has been here just as long as the building has, poked her head inside. “Pardon the intrusion, but Miss Taynor’s Aunt is here.”

I breathe a soft sigh. Despite being spirit and without form, a room can still get stuffy and claustrophobic. Deaner’s office might be simple and quaint, but I feel like I might be having the beginning of a panic attack for ghosts. I don’t know why but suddenly the room doesn’t seem so pleasant anymore. I am overwhelmed by the feeling of impending doom. This heavy weight is descending, dimming the room before my very eyes. I wonder if I’m having some kind of waking bad dream. Or perhaps this is the way nightmares are for ghosts. Maybe we can’t determine between awake and sleep. That it all runs together with no differentiating between the two.

A tall woman walks into the room. She almost looks like she stepped out of 1969 and the hippie culture of that time. She’s wearing a long flowing dress of psychedelic design, topped with a leather vest. It looks like there are runes burned into the leather. I think I recognize a few from my dad’s favorite Led Zeppelin album, the one with the guy carrying the bundle of sticks on his back. The woman’s hair is long, blond, and intricately braided. She has a couple necklaces she’s wearing. One has a pentagram charm, the other an Egyptian ankh. As she steps further into the room, I notice she is wearing open toed sandals. Her toenails are painted black with the eye of Horus on them.

“ Anne,” she says in a thick southern drawl. “Poor child. Come give Aunt Stella a hug.”

At first, I don’t think Anne is going to do anything, and I don’t blame her. Her aunt is so freaking weird. But then she gets up and allows the woman to envelop her in her arms. The woman is much taller than Anne and it reminds me of a polar bear hugging a penguin. It’s easy to see the teenager is embarrassed.

Unfazed, her aunt turns to the other adults in the room. “Hi, I’m Stella Taynor. Nice to meet you,” she says to them, extending a hand, though it’s clear she’s addressing the sole living male in the room.

He shakes her hand. “Assistant Principal Deaner.”

She smiles, though she has a curious look on her face. “Did I have you once?”

He is taken aback. “Um….excuse me?”

“I went to school here. About fifteen years ago. Were you a teacher then?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. I guess he thought she was trying to hit on him. “Oh yes. Yes of course. I was. But not here. I transferred about eight years ago.”

She seems to look him plane down and replies, “shame.”

“I’m Miss Watkins,” our guidance counselor interjects, trying to dislodge this conversation, wherever in the hell it’s heading.

Again, Stella the weird is unfazed. Or maybe she’s just oblivious, I’m not sure. She smiles at Miss Watkins. “And what are you?”

“I’m Anne’s guidance counselor.”

“Ah…of course you are.” She doesn’t shake the woman’s outstretched hand. Instead, she turns to me. “And you are?” She asks.

I am startled half out of my wits. Did she just speak to me?

“Uh….w…what?” I stammer. “Excuse me? You can see me?”

She turns back to the others. They all have looks on their faces that belie the fact she might be half crazy. “Just kidding,” she says. Then she reaches in her purse, which looks more like a potato sack, and pulls something out. “But if I wasn’t, here’s my card.” She hands it to Deaner. “I’m something of a ghost whisperer,” she says in a hushed, secretive tone. I notice she gives him a wink as well, which appears to fluster the poor man.

He’s not the only one flustered however. I’m thinking, Oh crap. I’m really in trouble now. Anne’s aunt, if she is indeed a whisperer, might have the ability to get rid of me, to send me on to wherever she thinks I’m supposed to go. But I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m just trying to find my place in all this. To discover where I belong. There has to be more than just being sent to the light or whatever.

Continue to Ghost Boy Blues 19

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

Vampire Boys Of Summer (revamped) Ep. 13

 

Vampire Boys Of Summer (Re-vamped)

13: The Watcher

I could have slapped him. All this nervousness and sweaty palms for this? If he was right that someone was watching us, they just might see me lay him out cold.

“In the window. The house across the street behind me.”

Now I was really getting pissed. “Dumb ass, that’s a manikin. Old Mrs. Winston put that up to keep kids off her lawn.” I put some distance between us for real by stepping up two more steps on the porch.

“No, behind the manikin. There’s someone there, and it’s not an old lady.”

I looked past him, squinting my eyes in the afternoon sun to try and see what he was talking about. After a moment I saw it, a shadowy figure behind the manikin. At first I thought it was just another one, but then I could see it move. My anger at Haru started to subside, replaced by alarm. Who was in Mrs. Winston’s house?

When he was sure I saw it, Haru turned and looked also, fixing it with a cold stare. The figure disappeared back into the shadows of the room. “I’ll take care of this,” said my new neighbor.

I was confused. “What are you?…”

“Stay here,“ he commanded, but he must not have had very good hypnotic vampire powers because I followed after him across the yard.

“Haru, You can’t just…Look , I know her…She’s not going to be happy if you go in her house.”

He crossed the street. “She’s asleep,“ he replied.

“In the middle of the afternoon? How could you..”

“She’s dreaming of a man at the foot of her bed.”

I reached out and grabbed his arm. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He stopped and turned to me. His hand reached out and took mine gently off his arm. His touch was not cold at all. In fact, he was pretty warm. And his skin was soft. For the first time I noticed he was wearing nail polish the color of his hair. He quickly let go of my hand as if I had scorched him. “Nora, go home. I will take care of this.” Then he gave me a sharp look. “Do not follow me.”

He started across Mrs. Winston’s lawn. I couldn’t believe he was just going to walk up there and enter her house. And for what or whom? And how did he expect to even cross the threshold? Without even thinking, I yelled at him, “Vampires can’t go in uninvited, you idiot!”

He came to a complete stop so fast you’d thought he hit a brick wall. He turned towards me and started walking back to where I stood. The look on his face made me afraid. I took a couple steps back.

“What did you say?”

“I..I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it…I don’t know…”

“Vampires?”

I nodded and started to bolt.

“Stop,” he said. His voice was quiet and lilting, and I was helpless. I had to obey his command. It was like something within me shut down and he could have demanded anything of me. He stepped right up to me and I didn’t flinch. Leaning in, his eyes were nearly touching mine and I felt like he could consume me whole and I wouldn’t care. Then just as quick as the helplessness came, it went away. I must have been holding my breath because it came out of my mouth heavy. Now my head screamed run before he could do anything else.

“Don’t tell anyone,“ he said. “Please, don’t.”

As if in answer to another command, I looked in his eyes. Tears had formed in those dark orbs and were starting down his face. I had never seen a boy cry before. In my world they were tough and invincible. Nothing could hurt their emotionless shell. But not this boy. He was weak, vulnerable, crumbling to pieces before my eyes. I almost cried seeing it.

“Please, not even your friends,” he said.

“I won’t.”

He wiped his arm across his face and cast a look back at Mrs. Winston’s. Then he returned his eyes to mine. “If you dream tonight, and it’s not me, don’t invite them in. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

He then walked away from me, moving briskly across the yard to his own. He never said goodbye. He didn’t even look back. I stood there watching, wondering what just happened. I knew everything had changed between us in an instant. We were not strangers any longer. I was not a killer. He was not a vampire. We were two souls now connected by something beyond us. And looking past my yard at Mrs. Winston’s house, I saw the thing that could destroy us both as it shifted in the window.

 

Continue to Ep. 14

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