I’m in the middle of writing my next big thing, which is very dark throughout, but I know I can’t keep that pace lest readers start offing themselves or play Celine Dion all day. So sporadically I insert some dry humor, some wit, and some of my sarcasm which is neither witty or dry. But if there is one chapter that I wanted to get to just for the fact that it was pure fun, it was this one.
I finally got to be humorous and give my characters a little depth and allow my readers to sit back from all the self-mutilation and dark rooms to enjoy a lighter side of the story, and me.
I decided this was so much fun I had to share it, but let me give you a very fast backstory so it makes sense.
Kate is a cutter who was by fate or destiny linked up to a child who can not live without her. Seriously, if they are too far away the kid will die. every year the small town comes together to see how far they can be apart, which continues to grow as the years pass. Mark is an old friend who has intruded on Kate’s life, but had become her go-to-guy, though he isn’t privy to every secret and she has a big one. The town rumors that she is vampire, given that she never leaves home during the day, and now her son, who suffers from the worse case of separation anxiety by way of death, is turning thirteen and starting to realize there is something wrong with her. She gave him the name to her disease and while she was at the store, he looked it up. Convinced his 13th birthday would mark a transformation, he decided to cut himself, drink his own blood. Now you are here …
This is mid-way through chapter eighteen. Enjoy:
The sound of the squeaky front door echoed like a bee-line into the bathroom. The sound of her light footsteps creeped down the hall until he swore he could hear her breath. It was definitely a sign of the transformation, and at once he began to suckle down on the gash to help the progress. Nothing was happening, save for the vomit feeling he had deep in his stomach from the gross taste of iron on his tongue. This was it, she was standing in front of the bathroom and calling out his name, though it sounded more like a hideous wailing than motherly tone. Still, nothing was happening to him and his heart began to pound so fast he thought it would burst.
As he tried to curl into a tight ball in the corner the blood began to trickle down a bit faster and so he latched down harder, but in his haste his foot hit the waste basket which in turn knocked over shampoo and conditioner bottles on the edge of the tub. And with that raucous, his mother burst through the door to find him licking his wound.
“What are you doing?”
She sounded concerned, but he couldn’t be certain so picked up the bottles and held them up like a cross. Maybe she would spare him, but he never knew her to be soft. The closer she approached the higher he raised the shampoo and conditioner cross, until she stopped just short of him and started to cackle, “So you’ve figured it out. What did you find on the internet, Chance?”
“Nothing,” he whimpered. “I never looked it up.”
“I can smell your blood, Chance. I know you’re lying.”
There was no denying that, and if she could smell it then there really was no sense in trying to argue the fact. He lowered the bottles, prepared to take on a new world and stand side by side with her in whatever may come. At first, she looked at him strangely, her head cocked sideways until her blood lust eyes caught sight of his seeping wound. She moved closer until her finger lifted some of his blood. With murder in her eyes she asked what he knew, and he was resolved to stand strong with the only true family he had.
“I know what you are,” he said.
She smiled wide, but he couldn’t see anything. “Tell me what I am, Chance? I need you to say it.”
He swallowed every ounce of courage he could muster in his body and called out, “Vampire.”
“Vampire,” she seethed like a wicked snake.
Then, from the doorway came the blessed sound of sanity. “Are the two of you crazy?” It was Mark staring at them in all their craziness, and Chance quickly stood to his feet.
“Damn,” Kate said with a snap of her fingers. “I could have really had fun with this.”
It was high time she came clean and so Kate sat at the table with the boys and explained her condition as she was told nearly twenty years prior by her mother. She explained the day she walked outside and ended up covered in welts and blisters. The doctor, who incidentally was Dr. Pratt, said it was a sun allergy. At that time there was little known and it really hadn’t been given a name other than photophobia, or sensitivity to light, though they knew it was a different class all together. It wasn’t until one day at the clinic when she was running some test three years back, that he told her what it was called, but she refused to know anymore. The sad fact was that her mother had already explained it in great detail and hearing the words come from Dr. Pratt would be downright humiliating.
Porphyria was a transmitted disease, one which she probably got from kissing David Albenez after the homecoming game. She never told her mom about him, but somehow she knew, and the proof was in the disease. There was no cure, only shame, and in a small town people would think something more than just a kiss transpired. Kate was removed from school and homeschooled and relatively never seen in the daylight again.
Mark laughed. “And you believed her?”
“I had no reason not to. Why are you laughing? I just told you an intimate part of my life,” she said.
“No offense, but Chance thinks he’s turning into a vampire and you think you got a vampire STD from kissing David Albenez. The two of you were made for each other,” he said. “Look, porphyria isn’t all that uncommon, and occurs a lot in the northern states because of the lack of sun. It’s perfectly treatable, and I promise you, it is not a vampire communicable disease.”
“But the internet said it was the vampire disease and had pictures,” Chance said, standing behind Kate in defense.
“Last I heard there was no cure,” Kate retorted.
“Well, you’re wrong. And it’s only called the vampire disease because of its reaction to the sun. People need to come up with names they can relate to, it doesn’t mean their true. And you can’t believe everything you read on the internet,” Mark shouted at Chance.
Chance barked back, “Says who?”
“Says Abraham Lincoln.”
By the way, I am so not a vampire fan of anything other than episodes of Scooby Doo.
Tania L Ramos