Indie Writer's Showcase: My very first entry! Jessica Samuels: A Vampire Bar.

A Vampire Bar

Crystal Crest Realm

By:Jessica Samuels

  It was a long day at work, and I needed to drown out the pain of dealing with people. I hated today since they were making me crazy with  running freight, and I wanted to sit and relax at a bar. Where do I go? Wing Command since I love their food, and a shot of Goldschlager and a Red Bull and vodka is just what I need. It was one of those days, and I got off at 5 while boyfriend got off at the same time. I thought about it the whole time at work, and I really wanted this night at the bar. I got out of my work clothes since I just got off.  I relaxed a little bit just to wind down while I wait for my boyfriend Derek to get home. I wrote some because I’m a writer and I was so pissed at this day I just had to get it off my chest. The day had been long with me working non-stop doing different things at once. Zoning, phone watching, repeat over and over again. That’s it and the time ticked by so slow I thought I would go bonkers with it. I hated it. Picking up shoe after shoe when customers toss out a shoe they don’t want to buy. They stuff it under the shelves or leave it where it is.

          I let it all go since I’m off from that hell for two days which means I can go to my hangout. I’ll have a few drinks and it will make the night off better. I worked on my retail story AngelWitch to get over the stupidity of today, and that’s what they say write what you know. My name is Dannika, and this night at Wing Command will change my life forever. My boyfriend comes home from work, and I’m happy because he is my rock to this crazy life. I get my things ready and we go out. We take my car, and the drive is short too. It’s less than ten minutes away, and close by which is good after drinking some. Derek parks the car, and I get out. The front is a big place, and on the outside Wing Command is there with a little plane at the end of the blue words. I love it, and I don’t need to be ID’d since it’s still early right now. We go inside and it’s all red walls with flat screens placed throughout the store. There is a bar area, pool area, and the main area with a place where bands can perform on Thursday. I know the owner, and he is a very friendly Filipino guy. Always gives me a hug, and his wife is nice too. I’ve been going there for a few years. I love it there, and I get my usual place with my waitress. Her name is Monica, and she always gets my drink order. I get the usual drink and so does Derek. I love his blue eyes and short hair too cut like military style since the Army has it like that. He is 5’5 and I’m 4’8 we make it work since we have been dating for 8 months. We talk about everything his day and my dreaded morning shift. I can talk to him for hours at this point. The drinks are here, and I take a shot down of the drink and sip on my Red Bull and Vodka. It makes all my troubles go away, and I’m happy now. I’m no longer worried over work bull shit, and the boss threatening to get me in trouble if I don’t work faster thanks to the person in charge of my area. I don’t worry about much, but I notice it doesn’t taste like it usually does. It has a metallic taste to it. Like blood. I look at my drink and it is blood….

….I pass out and wake up in a room with a bed and I’m tied to it. Great…I wonder how much time is passed since I took a drink. Derek is nowhere to be found. But some time passes, and he comes through the door.

“Are you okay?” He asked me.

“What happened?” I asked him wondering how I got here.

“I turned you into a vampire so you can get revenge on your evil boss, and coworker.” He told me with a wicked glint in his eyes. He knew exactly what I needed.

          Things are getting worse at SaveMart, and it was time to clean house. I’m thirsty and I look to my left there is a glass of blood on a nightstand, and I drink the whole thing. It actually has a taste to it, and it tasted really good. The best drink of water when I’m in the desert. Why don’t I freak out? Why don’t I call him a monster and break up with him? Because I’ve had an obsession with vampires for a while, and I have always wanted to be one. The owners of my favorite haunt are vampires, and they even turned their waitresses into them. They need me to be on their team to go after the mean customers.

 I look at him, “Thanks, and I love you.”

“I love you too, and I don’t want to go on living without you. Now go after the bitches. They deserve to die especially the snitch.”

“Will do, and I don’t want to be without you either.” I tell him.

I get up and notice that my reflexes are better, my strength stronger, and I’m fierce too. My humanity is gone, and I will not feel guilty about killing that lazy bitch either. She does not do anything. Then afterward I can go to Luxor, and live there with Derek. I wanted to get out of Crystal Crest so here is my chance.

          A few days later I clock in for my last shift ever because I’m not going to go into work anymore for this hell hole. They ride me too much, and I can’t take it anymore. I plan on getting in trouble and then when they both pull me in I will take them out with my silencer on my revolver. My silenced .38. I drive and the sun does not bother me at all. I love it. I was afraid I would have to give up the sun I don’t have to. I get dressed in my tacky uniform and head out. Once I get there I start zoning like usual. I notice a cart of shoes, but I ignore it today. I’m giving her a taste of her own medicine first. I’ll make her do her job for once.

Supervisor comes up to me, “You know you have a cart to do, and it’s right there. Then we have five more to go.”

Screw it…

“Well, if that’s the case you had better start now so you can finish it by the time you leave.”

She scoffs, “It’s your job actually do as I say.”

“No, I won’t do work for you since your a lazy bitch. You have me and others do the work while you do practically nothing. You call me slow and say I need to speed it up while you leave shit behind the counter. You’re a lazy piece of shit, and I hope you choke and die.”

She glares, “I’ll get the manager and we will coach you for being a smart ass.”

“Then go get her because I want to talk to her about how much of a lazy bitch you are…”

She leaves, and I’m happy since I did see the manager. Once they pull me into the office I’ll take them out to finish the job….

An hour after finishing the area she called me slow in I get a call.

“They need to see you in the office.” A coworker tells me.

“Gladly…”

I walk to the front, and the bitch is there with the boss.

Boss looked at me, “Now tell me why you were rude to supervisor.”

“She is a lazy bitch, and I’m not doing shit till you fire her.”

“How about I fire you?” She told me.

My reply, “You can’t since I already quit…”

I take my .38 and aim it at the bosses head. I pull the trigger, and the bullet goes right through her and blood splatters into the wall.

“You were useless anyway…” I tell her unmoving body.

I turn my attention to bitch supervisor, and then give her a mean glare.

“Consider this death sentence for being a lazy bitch, and not doing your job.” I do the same to her, and then I leave. I fill the office with kerosene and strike a match.

“I’ve always hated this job anyway.” I throw the match, and it lights up like a Christmas tree…I get home in record time, and tell Derek about everything…

“Good they deserved it.”

Then we leave the Crystal Crest, and go to Luxor where I get a better job and better treatment. I become a famous author there, and live out eternity as a vampire loving it every single day…..

The End….

 *********************

Jessica's book The Killer Contract Agency is coming soon from Write More Publications!

Theme for the Indie Writer's Showcase short story: Paranormal Where You Live!

Theme: Local, Regional or even national! A Paranormal story about where you live, your neighborhood, your favorite hangout, your local historical landmark, your favorite park, body of water, your state, province or your country!

A week later, I will 'harvest' indie writers for the showcase. After a two week notice, the writers will email me (or Facebook message me) their stories. I will them post each entry on a first come, first served basis on this blog and Tweet about it. I will also post it on several Facebook pages.

I will be checking next Monday for entries. How do you contact me? Find me under 'Liz Kingsbury McKeown' on Facebook. Message me on Twitter: @WritersBoost
OR you can leave a comment on this posting.

I can't wait.

P.S. Forgot to put in maximum word count: 1,500 words, but if your Muse says to put in more, then that's fine.

Shifting gears: Starting an indie writer's showcase. Inspired by Guy's Grocery Games.

I have been having trouble coordinating the schedules of indie writers and celebrity chefs, especially since the chefs are on the road so much.

 Inspired by Food Network's Guy's Grocery Games, I am starting an indie writer's showcase. I want to give a story theme for the short story. A week later, I will 'harvest' indie writers for the showcase. After a two week notice, the writers will email me (or Facebook message me) their stories. I will them post each entry on a first come, first served basis on this blog and Tweet about it. I will also post it on several Facebook pages.

I will blog again tomorrow with a theme. All entrants are winners!!

Looking forward to it - Liz Kingsbury Mckeown

Poem Number 6 - Call Me.

Stacy and I both called the hypnotherapist.
Group session: one hypnotherapist, two clients, probably the same past lives, or similar ones at any rate.
We tense completely up like fists, then relax, completely relax.
Three deep clearing breaths; in all the way, then slowly exhale.
We are coming to the entrance of an art gallery, made just for us.
I describe the exterior of mine. It's sunny outside, wherever I'm supposed to be.
It looks more like an everyday public library or art museum. Nondescript with double doors.
Stacy describes a white Victorian mansion that's been converted into a museum. It's in Perth, Western Australia where she's from originally.
At the prompt from Kent, our therapist, I go inside to my inner mind.
The floors are polished brick tile. I see glass display cases, but nothing really clear yet.
Stacy notices hardwood floors, and an antique table with a marble top and a crystal vase containing multicolored flowers, orchids.
I take the elevator down ten levels. With each level, I go deeper into a state of relaxation.
Stacy takes a staircase down with a beautiful ebony banister. She hears her footsteps echo as she descends into a state of deep relaxation.
Deeper relaxed.
I find a subterranean art exhibit all pertaining to my life, past life to be exact.
Stacy finds a Victorian library complete with bookcases, nick nacks on the mantle of a fireplace and many paintings on the wall.
The more I look at the small statues, sculptures and paintings, the more uneasy I feel.
Stacy matter of factly says, 'I thought so.'
Breaking hypnosilence, I bring up the woman in the grocery store from the summer of 1980. The woman with the accent who grabbed my left arm.
She said no outsider would ever have a tattoo like that.
She noticed I tried to have it removed.
I politely tell her that it's not a tattoo; it's a birthmark.

Poem Number Five: Talk Talk.

We were going back to Stacy's house, but some kind neighbor is plowing the street.
We both really want to go to Yussel's Deli. It was our hangout in college.
We ate salad and other diet food for days so we could pig out at Yussel's.
Pastrami on Rye with that brown mustard you can't find anywhere else.
Sigh.

Yussel is still at his post behind the counter with the same chipper personality. He greets us enthusiastically. "My favorite Shiksa girls! You've come back, Robin! I've missed you!"
Stracy and I go barreling to the edge of the counter to embrace him.
He meets us at the edge of the counter and hugs us both.
"Robin, how are you?" Yussel warmly asks, unaware of my recent divorce.
"Um, divorced?"
"How about your favorite pastrami with Swiss cheese on rye with mustard? Warmed up, maybe? On the house!"
"Yussel, you're all heart."
"And Stacy McKenna McKinnet, you'll want a Reuben on Pumpernickel with two Kosher dills." Yussel loved the sound of McKenna Mckinnet ever since she married Bob, her father's business associate, 11 years her senior. Since  1981, he always addresses her by her full name.
"Hell would freeze if I didn't order that."
"So, is your husband still in Australia?" Bob Mckinnet, the Viet Nam vet from Pittsburgh who spent most of his Navy years in Australia.
"Until February first."
"Nu, did you install the home security system I told you about?"
"Robin is staying with me. We'll use our self-defense tactics from college."
"You can never be too safe."
I couldn't keep quiet. "What can you do to protect yourself from nightmares?"
Yussel pondered for a moment and then joyfully pointed to us. "Love!"
He beamed, his smile contagious.

The smells of comfort food and the warm atmosphere is a welcome relief from the wet cold.
Between bites of sandwich, pickle and chips I speak softly to Stacy. "Should we tell him?"
"What? About our possible past lives? We don't know how he'd take it."
We agree to be quiet until we get home.

Poem Number Four: Still January, 1983 - Talk to You Later.

The name of the hippie store is 'Butterflies'.
The name conjures up butterflies lighting up a sunny, summer day, even when you're down.
It also speaks to the kind of butterflies you get in your stomach if anyone you know sees you in a store like this.

Here we are; Stacy Mckenna McKinnet  and I, in our business casual attire entering the store famous for the owner:The Queen of 1971. Mrs. Applegate, or Ms. Applegate, as she prefers to be called used to crochet everything. Even now, I can't imagine a long, crocheted acrylic vest that ties in the front without seeing Becky's mom. Becky, my classmate, tries to hide the surprise in her eyes as Stacy and I enter her family store. I'm waiting for her to ask us if we were lost; a futile question as Stacy and I grew up with her in Kazoo.

Becky, Lorna Finch Applegate's only child, is being groomed to take over Butterflies.
Stacy and I stare at her like a couple of lost puppies looking for their mother.
Stacy and I in our casual Yuppy attire stick out like sore thumbs.

Lorna merrily descends upon us with the milder mannered Becky in her wake.
"So, Robin. I hear you lost that capitalist, yuppy frat boy. Do you still go by 'Robin Sullivan O'Connor'?" she begins. "Once you drop your ex-husband's name, your psyche will heal a lot sooner."
What will she do for an encore? Tell us to burn our bras?

"I'm still in shock, Ms Applegate." 

"Oh, please. Call me Lorna."
"Yes, Lorna." Lorna who kept her husband's last name. Hmph.
Becky warmly greets us with, "How about a tour of the store? We have a lot of new merchandise you might like." We nod and follow Becky.

Stacy blurts out, 'We need your help. We have night terrors we can't get rid of.'
I chime in. 'We're thinking about hypnosis, but we don't know what to do.'
'Oh, bugger, Robin! We were so caught up in our night terror crisis that we left wet, salty footprints all over the carpet! I can pay to have it cleaned.'
Becky smiles, 'This time of the year, ten more people will track in snow, salt and sand.
It's fine. I don't suppose the two of you believe in past lives.'
Stacy and I look at each other and freeze.
And it is Stacy who brakes the silence, 'We don't know what's bloody wrong with us!'

Becky calmly hands us business cards of a hypnotherapist who is  also an 'intuitive', whatever that is.
Then, I spot a necklace, picture jasper. It doesn't look all crocheted or beady. I show it to Stacy. We continue shopping, now relaxed since we have a valid reason to be in the store.

Poem Number Three: January, 1983 - Girl's Night Out.

Not much of a wild night.
Don't know why I went all the way down to the Bridal Department to meet Stacy in the mall.
She is so in her element there. She is at home with satin, lace and seed pearls.
The Valley girl who works part time and majors in Fashion
Merchandising told me she listens to my show when she pulls late nighters.
I may be divorcing, but at least I have a fan.
And yes, I will play more GoGos.

Stacy and I head to the established hometown restaurant where we always went when
one of us graduated, got engaged or had some other milestone on our lives.
What was I looking forward to besides hanging out with Stacy?
Fresh butter. This restaurant served it with their house made dinner rolls.
And they had the good sense to let the butter get a little soft when they brought it out.
No butter rocks here. Oh and yes, a dark beer, please.
After a perfectly cooked steak smothered with mushrooms and onions, baked potato and piece of fudge cake; we went to her house with the lovely guest room.
Stacy invites me to her aerobics class Wednesday evening to work off our dietary sins. Why not?

Instead of a movie on cable, we share dreams that turn into night terrors.
Both of ours start out really happy.
Something to do with getting on an old fashioned train.
We have to stand up, but it's fun; everybody there is laughing and having a good time.
At what, though?

We go somewhere and serve food or maybe cook for some lavish buffet for older people; people my parents' age.
And then, the nightmares begin.
Stacy describes a different place, but we both start out together.
I see a lot of name tags from Australia, but the ones from the U.S. will have 'Texas' or 'Ole Miss' instead.

There's got to be a way to get to the bottom of this; it's making us nervous.
Stacy says the bloody dream dictionaries are useless.
We'll go to that hippie shop by the college tomorrow.
If anybody knows anything about this, they will.

It seems a little weird to share even a king sized bed with Stacy, but we are serious about getting to the root of these dreams.
Earplugs. I snore; she snores.
Relaxation and sleep give way to terror; I bolt up awake in bed.
Stacy does, too.
Who do you see? I describe mine.
Stacy says hers are different, and they're over there.
Our images are sharing the same room, but not on top of each other.
At least our inner demons have manners.