to Roland and explained, “Some folks say Strigoi’s are troubled souls of the dead rising from the grave.
However, some of us can be living people with, as you can see, certain magical properties. Some of the characteristics of the Strigoi include the ability to transform into an animal, invisibility, and the propensity to drain the vitality of victims by drinking their blood.”
“Or, as I like to say, the loss of limb,” Nicolae continued with his menacing grin. He turned to Steliana and said, “You’re looking beautiful, my dear.”
“Thank you, dear. Do you think we should explain that Bram got his idea of the vampire from your grandfather?” She turned back to Roland as she continued talking to Nicolae, “You have to try him, dear. Marinated in alcohol for years, he’s simply delicious.”
“I prefer the taste of aged crack cocaine myself.” Nicolae looked at the door, then back to Steliana. “Don’t kill him until I get back.”
“We’re doing Roland first,” Steliana asked but never taking her eyes off Roland.
“Oh, yes.”
“Mmmm. Trick or treat.”
“Jaaaaack!” Roland screamed out a second before the cat-like monster pounced.
GROWING UP GRUESOME
Jonathan Dukestein
Jonathan Dukestein does not exist. When he’s not pretending to be real, he’s off somewhere in a Great Lake State, probably chain smoking.
This fake person spends a considerable amount of time writing, reading, painting and imagining bizarre worlds to inhabit. Chances are, he’s off his medications again.
***
It was only October 26th, still enough time for Andrew to find a costume, but he was growing frantic. Every idea he had come up with had been vetoed by the parents, and every idea the parents had come up with had been dumb. A cowboy? A pirate? A clown? Optimus Prime?
They didn’t seem to realize how important a decision this was for an eight year old.
Erin, five years older than him, had been no help at all. She had been too busy fighting with them about going to some party on Friday night.
They thought she shouldn’t go, that she was too young for a “boys and girls party.” There had been a lot of screaming, especially from Erin. Andrew knew that she just wanted to go so she could sneak off and kiss Mike Adamson. Andrew thought Mike Adamson had really big ears.
Outside a car alarm started ringing, and Andrew peered out his bedroom window. The suburban sprawl of Logres, Ohio disappeared into the forest farther south, and the edge of the shopping district was visible from his view. Logres was barely a city with a population of only 12,000, but it did well enough thanks to the steel mills and car factories right up the highway in West Amsterdam. Not that Andrew knew about any of this – or would have cared. But he was growing annoyed with the car alarm and flopped back onto his bed, frustration mounting.
“Crap, think!” he demanded of himself out loud as he glanced around his room.
Painted a bold blue, it was decorated with posters of quarterbacks and dinosaurs. Toys based on anime cartoons and half-finished model cars littered a good portion of the space not taken up by dirty clothing. A stack of video games were arranged in the corner next to a small desk that Andrew occasionally did his homework at, a cluttered bookcase beside it. The majority of boys Andrew’s age would love this room. He pretty much hated it.
A door slammed elsewhere in the house, and a faint yell could be heard. He assumed Erin had been at it with the parents again. Sprawled on his bed, feeling sorry for himself, he considered the fact that at least he wasn’t a grownup. That would suck. One hand dangling off the bed, Andrew thought about how Stupid Dad had to go to some boring job every day. School was bad enough. He idly wondered what Stupid Mom did all day besides cook and clean. Oh, and that yoga class she was always going on about. Wait, was it
Andrew didn’t care. Swinging his arm in wider arcs, his hand found a stray shoe. Grabbing it up, he launched it across the room at his bookshelf.
It crashed against a pile of nature magazines, spilling them onto the carpet.
Andrew still didn’t care. He made a little sound of satisfaction when he looked over at the mess.
Then his eyes went wide.
One of the things Stupid Dad had got for him last Christmas was a subscription to a children’s nature magazine, and Andrew had barely leafed through them. The only one that had ever caught his attention had been the issue on sharks. That one had fascinated him, although probably not in the manner that Stupid Dad would have approved of. When they had gone on a family vacation to Florida the past summer, one of the few things Andrew had gotten excited about was the jar of shark teeth he had bought.
Right then, it all came together. He didn’t need the parents. He knew they would be mad, but so what? The costume would be awesome, the costume would be
“I hate them,” Erin said out loud to her empty room.
Rolling over on her bed and brushing her long, strawberry-blonde hair back out of her face, she carefully retrieved her favorite stuffed dragon and looked it square in the googly plastic eyes. “I hate them both.” She had just turned thirteen the previous month and was in seventh grade at Logres Central Middle School. She was not a child any more, and had pointed out to Dear Ol’ Dad, that she had started getting her period the past spring. Unfortunately, that had been the wrong direction to take the argument, and he had gotten pretty aggravated. He had actually yelled at her! This just wouldn’t do.
Erin began quietly singing to herself as she hugged her stuffed dragon and let her eyes wander the room. Opposite to Andrew’s, it was all things pink and girly. Just like Andrew, just hated it, too. Much like she currently hated the parents. At first, she had been upset because she really did just want to go, really did want Mike Adamson to see her in that sexy witch costume she had secretly bought. Now, it was out of principle.
Climbing off her bed, Erin went to stand in front of her dressing mirror. Framed in stained walnut and able to pivot in two directions, it was one of the few gifts the parents had ever pulled off that wasn’t terribly lame.
Tall for her age, she was still stick-thin and lacking any real curves. Her hair had more of a reddish cast than Andrew’s, which was closer to a sandy blonde, but both had hazel eyes and a few freckles. It was obvious they were siblings, and if anyone took the time to notice, they would realize it was obvious “the parents” were not.
Erin stripped down to just her panties, glanced in the mirror and then thought better of it. No reason to give Dear Ol’ Dad a thrill before hand.
She slipped a ratty, black tee shirt on that she had worn when she had been forced to help paint the deck in the beginning of spring. Good enough.
“I hate them, de Rais,” Erin said, speaking to her stuffed dragon.
“And I think it’s about time I killed them.”
Andrew had already changed clothes once, snuck into the bathroom, changed his mind, and snuck back. It hadn’t mattered much, since no one had been upstairs but his sister and she wouldn’t have cared what he was up to. Finally, after thinking over what he was going to do, he tip-toed back down the hall in just his underwear with his selected outfit bundled up under his arm. Finally inside, he locked the bathroom door and checked the window. Andrew knew he could slip out onto the roof above the deck and then climb down – he had done it twice before. There was another half-bath downstairs, so he didn’t worry too much about being interrupted.
Carefully, he unrolled his grey sweatpants and matching sweatshirt.
The sweatshirt had a baseball team’s logo on it, and that had given him momentary pause, but then he
