Thursday, December 24, 2009

Vamps...New dead girl anthology from Torquere Press

I may be dead, but I can still dream.

I dreamt I was the maiden Persephone, my sun-streaked brown hair falling in curls down to my slim adolescent waist, my golden skin shining in the late afternoon sun of the meadow. Suddenly, a shadow fell across my body, chilling me. In an instant I was snatched away to the Underworld by grim, darkly beautiful Hecate. She declared herself my queen and my lover, but I refused her. Refused her, until she squeezed between my unwilling lips the juice of six blood-red pomegranate seeds. With the sticky, sweet and tart juice on my tongue, I became part of the Underworld.

I was just about to claim my rightful place as co-regent of the Realm of the Dead when I was awakened by loud voices. The television, I soon realized. My mortal lover, Hollie, had suddenly cranked up the volume as she sat in the living room.

As I vainly attempted to stuff Hollie’s pillow and mine into my ears to mute the noisy intrusion, I heard a familiar, televised voice. "Affirmative action perpetrates the worst kind of injustice, Larry," the woman said. Followed by more intellectual blah blah blah, interrupted at some point by Larry King’s follow-up question. I tossed my sheet aside angrily and crept up behind Hollie’s recliner.

Hollie’s hand still held the remote, as if poised to turn it up louder, should the need arise. It wouldn’t, of course. My hearing is far better than that of mortals.

"Mama looks good," I said. Hollie startled when I spoke, dropping the remote. Three months undead, and I’m already a master of sneaking up on folks. "Damn good. She must be getting some regular." I settled onto the arm of Hollie’s chair.

"You scared me," Hollie said.

This is an excerpt from "Oakley Falls," my contribution to Vamps from Torquere Press.

Oakley is a lesbian, a vampire, and a stripper. She and her mortal lover Hollie have their issues, but Oakley's unlife is going why does she find herself waking up chained to a chair in the basement of The Third Eye Gentleman's Club? Could it have something to do with her favorite pro basketball player, flamboyant, New Orleans-bred Johnny Lee Bayliss?

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