Vampire Vocab

I call you guinea pigs, my devoted or not-so-devoted readers because you are about to be subject to a short story. My short story. It’s not too late to turn back. …No? Brave soul. You see, my drop-dead gorgeous mother was talking to me the other day and she informed me that she had noticed my recent lack of blogging. I explained that I had blogger’s block, so she told me to base a story on five words. I asked my sister. Hers were:

Cat, vase, car, tree, and bookshelf.

Prepare yourself.

They had no clue what was coming. The sweet, black cat with the perfect four-pointed  star on its forehead and the butterscotch colored eyes seemed harmless, pitiful even, sitting on their doorstep, whiskers drooping in the heavy rainfall. It looked sorrowfully up at them and gave an imploring “Mew?” The nice, middle-aged couple and their three kids could never resist such a charming kitty.

But they would grow to wish they had.

Every day, the kids would look out the window of the first floor to see the kitty sitting in a huge weeping willow tree, it’s fur shimmering in the sunlight, ruffled by the light breeze. Alaric, as the cat had been named, was serene, so graceful that he could jump atop a vase without rocking it, and inconspicuous, but at the same time regal.  His fur was so black, it seemed to absorb the sunlight, and cast out darkness in it’s place.Alaric loved high places, especially the tops of bookshelves and trees. He wanted to be able to see everything without being seen. One night, as another rainstorm raged, the family was driving home from dinner in their car, a Prius.

They got out of the car and were soldiering through the cruel Illinois wind, rain whipping their faces. The woman saw a dark shape sitting expectantly on the porch steps. Amber eyes glowed out from the darkness, holding malicious intent. For a moment, the woman was scared, until she recognized Alaric.

“You scared me, sweet kitty,” she said with a smile, in the tone that all cat lovers use. She was so busy petting Alaric’s soft, damp fur that she didn’t notice the amber eyes as they slowly bled to red, didn’t hear the soft “ching” of his fangs coming out. She drew back to look at Alaric, but as soon as she saw that her “sweet kitty” was no longer a cat at all, but rather a bloodsucking vampire, the cat attacked.

Alaric drank his fill, killing the entire family. He licked the blood from his fur, then sauntered over to the neighbor’s house and scratched at the door. The elderly woman opened the door, and smiled at the cat she saw there. “Mew?” he said imploringly. The old woman couldn’t resist the beautiful cat.

But she would grow to wish she had.

Creepy, right? I admit, I am perpetuating bad vampire stereotypes, with the glowing red eyes/killing children/dark and stormy night thing, but this was my first vampire story. Ever. I’ll do better next time (I hope). Also, some charming vampire lolcats…

Vampire Cat doing what vampires do best

The Vampire Le-cat (bad pun, I know. Anne Rice would have my head)

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 29th, 2009 at 4:42 pm and is filed under Life, Ramblings, Vampires, Writing.
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