Wednesday, August 8, 2012


Tomas drifted through the basement/family room. The two, young children were sleeping, bathed in the flickering light from a forty six inch flat screen TV. Larry Parks, as Al Jolson, silently mouthed the words to 'Mammy.' One of the kids must have pressed the mute button. But Tomas watched for a moment. He remembered the real Al Jolson... He remembered a lot of things. Then he turned off the television and covered them with some knit 'throws' folded over a worn reclining chair in the corner.

He could have sublimated up to the bedroom, but he didn't. He softly walked up the stairs, into the kitchen. Someone obviously tried to jazz it up a pulls on the freshly painted cabinets..... some twelve by eighteen inch marble cutting boards lined up along the counter, trying to look like something they were not. But the broken plates were still on the floor. He picked them up and put them in the trash, before continuing into the unfurnished dining room (the picnic table from outside filled in at Christmas time.), through the small, plain living room and up to where she was.

The room was dark. He stepped inside, smelling the pain and disappointment oozing from the walls. She lay upon the bed, silent as the night and curled up like a ball. Was she sleeping? Not really...just drifting through a place far better than reality. He sat down on the bed. She made no sound. Perhaps it was the drugs? He brushed her hair. She sighed, then whispered - Who are you?........ He said - I don't really know, but I am here to help you.....Then he gently, but firmly took hold of her body, rolled her on her back. He kissed her forehead. She whimpered. He kissed her neck, down low, right by the collar bone. She relaxed, stretching out to her full length....... Are you like an incubus?- she slurred. I saw them on the History Channel...... Then she trembled and yawned. He rubbed her belly. She moaned...... Well, are you?......... A little, I suppose, but just a little - he said....... She arched her back. He pushed the blood stained blankets to the floor....... She quietly said - Excuse the mess. But my husband made me bleed...... Then she was silent, remembering what had happened. A few heartbeats later, she cried. Tomas knelt down over her and kissed away the blood, gently cleansing her with his practiced tongue. She breathed deeply, but did not say a word. And when it was over, she slept. He sat there, stroking her thighs and waiting for the wounds to disappear. A vampire's blood can do magical things...

Just before dawn, he went into the bathroom, found a tube of lipstick and wrote a phone number on the mirror. Above it he scrawled - Call this for help. Then he sublimated up through the skylight and made his way back to Franklin's lair beneath the Navy Yard.

That morning, she called. A man picked up. She said - What happened last night?....... The man, an old and trusted 'familiar,' a lawyer by trade, told her she'd been saved. Later that afternoon, they met  over coffee at a Starbucks in Center City, where he presented her with a fresh, crisp cashier's check made out for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars , along with a few other necessary documents. Vampires tend to be very well fixed, you know. She studied it for the longest while, then said - I'd better go, now before the trains (subways) get crowed. But he walked her to the street and put her in a cab. 

That evening, she packed a few things, pictures mostly, some much loved baby clothes, took the kids and drove away, to a safe, new future with a different name.

The deed was done. The wife beater was gone and for the next month at least, Tomas was fed.

But the once-battered-wife always remembered that night and she thought about him often...


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