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She had no name and no real family. Just stable mates. She was raised up on a vast underground tray... a giant, dirt filled platform.. all stacked up, one atop the other. Two thousand head on each. Fed 'em on mushrooms and bean sprouts. They laid in it... naked, little (to the dogs, anyway) dazed, mindless humans.
Kept the place warm. A cellar it was, dark and buried deep beneath the kitchen of a great canine manor house. In the language of the giant civilized dogs they were called 'pinkies' for the color of their flesh and they were a great delicacy, usually eaten live, or just south of life, like clams.
None dared escape. Indeed, they never thought of it. Hungry, red 'snappers' (crabs) roamed the 'depths' ( earthen floor), eager to shred little fugitives in their hellish oral openings. But the girl with no name was different now. She knew things. She knew it was possible to get out. She's seen it that night, when Tomas crept into the kitchen. She saw his eyes through the thick, green glass of the tank. He watched from a hidden niche, squeezed in behind the terrarium, pressed up against the cold tile wall of the 'back splash,' as canine cooks and kitchen girls scooped up handfuls of 'little pinkies' from the excelsior bedding. But one terrified human was over looked... a grape, so to speak, left on the vine. And now she shivered there under the soft, straw-like covering, pressed into an icy corner. Her thoughts were images... some fleeting... some not so fleeting. Could she scale the glass? How could she, without even the words for it. But the scared, young female laid there and she endured.
Sometime later the canine kitchen girls came in to do their chores. One scraped and washed down the baking counter. One swept and mopped the floor. Another emptied the 'pinkie tank' ... Big, strong thing, she was, like a Boxer. The dog kind, I mean. Shook everything out in a dustbin. Girl fell in too, a bit bruised, but she was alright. Shredded paper and banana peels took care of that. One of the others, a dumb, clumsy thing, kicked it over. Leader yelled - Lord God in heaven (civilized dogs got religion too) you clean that up, you dumb bitch!... And she did... But the little 'pinkie' girl had a chance. She dashed into the covered place where the lower cabinets hung out over the kick board. That's how she got away. Almost broke her spine on a mouse trap. But almost don't count. Almost got all squashed and cut up by the rough, sharp broom. Night chores are serious business. Can't leave no dirty kitchen. Gotta be clean in preparation for the next day's breakfast. Big House jobs are scarce. Nobody wants to be sent home.
So she ran, naked through the shadows.. and that's how she saw him again. That's how she met Tomas on his way back up to warm the others. He sees how scared she is, puts his arm around her and pulls her under a chair... Big old thing... a club chair... got a skirt and everything... Real private, like an Arabian tent. He scared off some bug, laid her down on the rug and did it right there. Drank up all her blood and gave it back. Not having much in the way of smarts, she don't fight much. Follows his lead. Drinks from his wrist. What's she know 'bout night-folk and all? She don't know nothin.' Little while later she's almost there. Still got the skin-shedding and all, but she can do that upstairs. Tomas got plans for her. He got plans for the whole mess a them. Don't know if he's gettin' home, but they all gettin' out.
That's when he stands her up, crushes her against his chest and sublimates right through the chair... right through the springs (his energy shoots out and sublimates her real good too. looks like she likes it. must tickle or something), up through the air and one or two ceilings, back to the boudoir of the giant, blond, afghan looking canine woman. Pitch dark in there... No light. Stink from that toilet water she likes. Doll house dark too. Takes her in through the door. It ain't got no lock. How they gone keep anybody out?
She smells the greasy stain left from the killed-up 'uncle' guy. He know she hungry... 'vampire' hungry, but he don't let her kill nobody... not yet anyway.
Beds her down in the room with him. Don't know if the sun they got here gone effect her. Don't know if it gone burn her up. So he cover her like a baby, all wrapped in a bunting and lays down tight, right next to her. She cry a little, 'cause she wanna eat some bastid. But he rock her and whisper in her ear. She like that too. Goes right to sleep.
But he thinkin.' He figurin.' He rememberin.'
Vampire got weapons and soon he an' that gal not gone be the only ones...
This your favorite disembodied spirit, Old Mister Never-You-Mind, narratin' these festivities. Long time no see.
Ghost get homesick too you know...
<more next time>
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