TWILIGHT CONVERSATIONS

The monstrous, gaseous fire blazed its way across the heavens, then left us all in shadows. Dusk was upon us and we started to awaken.  Each vampire is different. Some stretch and yawn like mortals.Others immediately move about like tightly wound automatons. I am of the former sort. Baylah was still out. She apparently had spent the day holed up with her paramour. Nothing new there. Sarah was at her ablutions. She enjoyed her baths. I went in to help her wash her back. True, we do not attrack dirt, nor do our bodies excreet much, but a hot bath is a hot bath, especially to sometimes clammy creatures like ourselves. I could hear the Old Woman clattering about up in the kitchen, as she prepaired some sort of protien starch mixture for the humans. I do not think I can even recall what food tastes like. Sometimes in a dream I might. But not often. Sarah smelled good. Not necessarily from her expensive bath salts. She always smelled good. And since the old tub was of the huge, ornate, claw-footed variety,I eagerly slipped in to join her. And she agreed that I smelled quite nice too. We tarried in the steaming brew until we both were satisfied, then dried ourselves in turkish luxury. I was in a Jim Morrison mood, and so chose a leather and denim look. It so suited my new, handmade bootkins. Sarah carefully assembled her costume ....black cashmere and fine, wool pants. She put on her new, black bootkins too. Were we always so particular? No, but the presence of our 'visitor' made us so. He seemed to exude an aura, an intoxicating vapor and we could not resist. Up above, the humans were already assembled around the table consuming yellow mounds of cooked, sterile uterine chicken juices. Eggs...eggs...I know what they call them. They eat them a lot. Mortals so enjoy tearing off a bit of a 'tasty' usually dead animal. Not like us. We could never feast upon the dead. It's living fare for us...and always human too. Rat eaters? Deer munchers? Hardly, that is just in fiction. And 'Papa' was there waiting for us. He sat off to the side in one of the large club chairs bouncing Annie on his knee. His clothing was fresh. Where did he get it? From the luggage in his car, naturally. Another fine suit. A trim, starched shirt, worn open at the collar. Everything straight out of G.Q.. No, not G.Q., The Robb Report. He looked like a Wall Street prince and had an appetite to match.. Edith and wilkravitz ate silently. I watched as 'papa' offered Annie sweet, little hot, bloody drops from his finger tips. She quickly clapped her hands and slurped it up. Then he neatly bit into another digit and gave her more. The Old Woman chomped on a thick crust of bread and smiled. Sarah looked at me. I looked at her. Then he spoke. He said - Come, sit down. It is time for us to talk..........How smoothly he takes over. How easy it all seems for him.......Creator and created united at last. Yet this was a conversation I did not want to have.........