But each bite is a link in a chain, and I must start somewhere. Yes… The little bird in the bush in a garden; this is Renfield’s tale: the story of a boy impossibly old beyond his years, who was hurt and needs to heal. A ward of the state, messed with and betrayed. He left the home at seventeen, but not for long. In and out and in again for years. Jobs that didn’t last. He was given to inexplicable crying jags and sleepless nights and more than the occasional drink.
During one of his years in the Real World, the orphanage had made a deal with the government and was reclassified as house for the mentally disturbed. Thereby did their subsidy rise ninety pennies per youth per day. The boys were all still there, but now were “not all there.” A small, wayward joke. They almost had
So Timmy came back to the fold. Hardly prodigal—just back. He was now old enough, you see; he was left alone. Not really an inmate—just “in.” He tended their garden and swept their halls. Became the handy-man. He closed his eyes and ears…
‘Til one day, years later, a new boy entered the picture—not unlike Timmy, when
God…
I have called this my home for most of my life. I have been murdered by inches. My poor crushed brain knows things, but can’t seem to, to… Nowhere to go; but go!
I too am lugging my native soil, sleeping deep while the sun has shone. Dreaming… Nosferatu… come. The vision has somehow turned. I don’t want to be powerful. Just at peace.
Vlad, Vlad, Impaler Vlad. Can I dump the earth and sink the ship before he reaches port? I must not deceive myself; he has always been here. He is my father and my mother, the Brothers, and the pain. The Doctor of my youth and my Doctor’s little book. All the bits of life consumed, the laughter and the tears. He’s the whole bloody ball of wax, rolling from my day of birth to… St. George’s Eve, when, it is said, all the buried treasures are at last revealed, even while all evil things hold sway.
At midnight, the Dragon and the Saint are one. Lance and claw, shield and wing, and scales… of justice wildly pitch. Where does one end… ? We cross ourselves and lose our way in the smoking breath and rising dust of hooves. We are teetering by the hissing gorge, and the rough and tumble fall from Grace may actually be a soaring up. But I seem to be suspended on a thread, neither here nor ever there. I’m squirming in a pupal state, pressing ‘gainst the membrane, poking feelers out. Yes, cocoons
I am a veritable work of Art. I am Magic.
That is, one day, I hope I can
believe…
About the Authors
Julie Barrett is the author of
Nigel Bennett won the prestigious Gemini Award for his role as the vampire patriarch LaCroix on the series
Elaine Bergstrom is the author of several novels, including
K.B. Bogen has a head for technology, a knack for humor, and a taste for the macabre. A native Texan, she holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Computer Science and Engineering from UT Arlington. Her favorite form of communication is humor; she prefers to make people laugh rather than cry, though she is not above causing the occasional shiver in her audience. Part-time party decorator, and full-time wife and mother, she plays domestic when she has to and reads forensic anthropology textbooks for fun.
Gary A. Braunbeck is the author of the acclaimed collection
Roxanne Longstreet Conrad is the author of seven novels:
While a tech writer, Gene DeWeese produced everything from cleaning instructions for U.S. Air Force computer ball bearings to NASA space navigation texts. Since Robert Coulson recruited him to help out on a
P. N. “Pat” Elrod has written over sixteen novels, including the ongoing
Amy Gruss, graduate of SMU (English/Creative Writing), is a prize-winning poet and a professional