Musings of a High School Vampire: Secret Men’s Business

It was just the four of us the other night: me, Kane, Grae and Nik, kicking back with beer and Buffy reruns (the good ones – you know, the pre-angst, funny-as-Hellmouth ones).

Grae tipped the last of the bottle down his throat, and gestured at us for replenish requests. Nik acquiesed, Kane demurred (he was already looking fucking bleary), and I sloshed the contents of my own half-empty bottle in answer, then discretely tipped some more of it into the long-suffering potted plant Kane’s mom gave us for housewarming.

Grae raided the fridge, threw Nik a can with the practised ease that got him his football scholarship, and vaulted deftly over the back of the couch again. Nik fumbled the pass, kicked Kane until he picked it up for him, and finally opened the can with a hiss.

“Game?” he asked, stirring among the pizza boxes and other shit piled on the coffee table for a controller.

“Fuck no,” said Kane, rubbing his eyes and yawning, “Jonathon and I have got to fucking work in the morning.”

“Shit,” I groaned, “Don’t remind me.”

“Your own fault, dickhead. Serves you right for fucking around in Europe so long last year.”

“Bloody broke even before I left,” I grumbled, and poured away some more beer maliciously.

“Hot women in Europe,” pondered Nik meditatively.

Kane grimaced. “Never even heard back from the one I met online. Bet Jonathon scared her off.”

“Our Johnny is a scary fucker!” Grae laughed and frisbeed his cap at me lazily.

“But Harmony met one and never even came home,” Kane continued ruefully, “Pissed her family off no end when she told them she wasn’t coming back from holidays, eh, Jonathon?”

“Wouldn’t know, man. She’s not talking to me.”

“Why the fuck do all the hottest girls fall for other hot girls?” lamented Nik, “Or is it just to feed my fantasies?”

“Keep dreaming, Romeo!” Grae stretched and got up. “Going to bed, losers. See you fuckwits in the morning.”

“Not me!” Nik grinned, “Afternoon classes, bitches!”

“Slacker,” I retorted, “Get a fucking job. Plus you owe Kane rent.”

“Dad’s giving me cash Thursday. I’m on it, dude.”

Grae slammed the door to his room with reckless cheerfulness while Kane staggered towards the bathroom. Nik downed the rest of his can, belched, and reached for the PS3 controller again.

And I went ostensibly to bed. Share house means keeping up appearances, you know.

 

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Musings of a High School Vampire: Sensation

You know that feeling you get? There’s all kinds of cliches to describe it, but they read like you’ve been possessed or something: hairs raising, skin crawling. Like somehow your body knows something you don’t. Some earthy desire for self-preservation that modernity hasn’t managed to breed out of you.

You get it late at night, during the ritual. You know the one. Check the doors are locked. The windows fastened. Turn out the lights. Room by room. Your cosy cocoon of light getting methodically diminished by darkness at its extremeties. By your own hand.

And your eyes start playing tricks, don’t they? Looking back into a room newly dark, the space seems cavernous. Watchful. Hungrier. You have fleeting visions of a figure. A face. A form that moves – but it’s nonsense. There’s nothing.

You could turn the light back on to check, but that would be an admittance of the ridiculous fear tickling around – not even your mind which would be acknowledgable – but your neck.

Retreat. Don’t look back. Well, maybe once, but… nothing. Though there could have been. Move a little faster, snap off the last outer light before closing the door firmly and satisfyingly on the uneasy, uncanny space that used to be home. Bunker down gratefully, albeit temporarily, in the clinical bright light of the bathroom.

No corners here. No shadows. Door closed. You might even take time to laugh at yourself in the mirror before turning on the faucet.

Water falls with noisy familiarity and there is relief as you bend, splashing it up into your face briskly and efficiently.

Vulnerable position, that. Head down, water running, sight obscured. The door could open. The shower curtain twitch. But it would take you time to wipe your eyes to look.

Turn off the water, still leaning, drips running smoothly down your face and plinking relentlessly into the basin. Now, contrarily, you don’t want to look up. Imagine if you did, straight into the mirror, and saw something impossibly and awfully behind you. Right there. You’ve rarely known that flash of raw fear, but your body is anticipating it without you.

You know that feeling?

 

That’s me.

 

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Musings of a High School Vampire: Apres Moi

Hey sweetmeats.

Year ago today since we last spoke – no fucking time at all in the immortal scheme of things, but for you finite critters it’s been a while, yeah?

How’s living been working out for you? Undeath is still a fuckload of fun, although my situation has – evolved, shall we say?

So I didn’t write. I didn’t call. But fuck – our unpredictability is all part of our irresistible charm, right? Consider this the axe through the door that heralds the announcement ‘Here’s Johnny!’

Here’s the important question though…

Didya miss me, boys and girls?

 

Hm. Gotta go. There’s more giggling costumed morons at the door. But on All Hallow’s Eve, canvassing my house for candy is full of surprises… because guess who plays the trick and gets the treat?

Aw. You guessed.

Fuck I love Halloween.

 

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