Monday, November 3, 2014


They found her in the morning. A thin trickle of blood ran down from her ruined left eye and there was also a dark, sticky puddle under the right ear. By that point any of them might have done it. Sublimation training went well. The 'father' person, the 'mother' person, the girl from the glass tank in the kitchen... they all could do it. Vampire projectiles able to slice through, almost, anything.... an exquisite dollhouse filled with tiny, lethal monsters. But Tomas did it. As the most experienced and adept, it was only right that he go first. So he crept from the scaled down mansion as she slept, sublimated to the floor, scurried across the four acres of area rug in the moonlight, climbed up onto the sleigh bed and went straight to it. The two hundred and ten foot tall, blond, more or less Afghan looking canine woman slept.... and she never woke up.

He found his footing on the cool sheet. The thick, down, mattress pad made that difficult... like walking on a cloud. Then he gazed up at her immense head, lying cheek down (if canine giants actually had cheeks) upon the huge pillow. How peaceful she looked, like a slumbering, mammalian dragon. No, bigger than a a sleeping, fine-muzzled, Gorgo (look that one up).

Did she deserve it? That was complicated. In her world she did not. Or even if during times of quiet contemplation she did... even if they recognized the satanic nature of things, she didn't have to worry about any sort of punishment. That's just how it was. Even fascists kiss their children.

So he thought the thoughts he had to think... felt his body energize and rose up. Once his bare feet left the cotton it all happened very fast. And the infinitely experienced vampire pierced through the skin of her eyelid like a laser. The rest was largely instinct, as the optic nerve and cauliflower protuberances of  her brain liquefied under his attack. She never moved. He effervesced by the right ear, solidified and climbed down, then he walked, naked (clothing rarely survives a good sublimation) back to the table, scratched his way up the cloth and went inside. The 'maid' person was gone, pinned up in a frame by the cloakroom three nights ago, as a work of folk art, but the 'mother' person ran a bath. The minute, intricate plumbing worked, so long as one of the giant domestics filled the glass reservoir bottle. Tomas laid back in the tepid water and washed the sticky, bloody bits away.  After that he dressed. Then he and his three companions, plus the 'sister' child and the 'brother' child, climbed down from their wondrous, dollhouse, palace and tip-toed toward the cellars, there to infect the others, not all of them, but enough......

The 'rising' had begun.....

A few hours later two giant canines entered the room.... a 'lady's' maid accompanied by some other type of domestic, to help the young miss prepare for the day. More outings in the bright, wintry sun.... Perhaps another sleigh ride... holly gathering... something like that. How they keened at the sight. Dried blood sealed the ruined eye. And being simple country 'girls' they sank to their knees mumbling prayers. After a bit, one left to get the family.

No one thought about the tiny, living toys in the dollhouse. Indeed, had they remained and still been mortal they would have starved...

Little lives don't mean much...

<more next time>


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