Change, fear and new beginnings

Vampire Maman

The holidays gave me a break from the day-to-day nonsense and trouble shooting I’m frequently asked to do. I can’t tell you how nice it was to spend time with my children, husband, family and friends. Aside from a short Christmas letter from a couple of Zombie friends, all was calm and bright.

That came to an end today when I got one of those “Juliette you gotta help me out” calls.

Jeff is a man in love. He is also a Vampire. Regular people might not recognize him as a Vampire, but this sort of hipster young guy has been a successful Vampire for almost 7 years now. If I didn’t know it I’d think he’d been a Vampire for 70 years. He is comfortable in his slightly cold skin and living the life of the “undead.”

Unfortunately, like I said, Jeff is in love. He reconnected recently with…

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Conversations with… Miy Selfe (Reconstruct)

“Welcome to Conversations With… I’m Myown Man.”

“Today’s guest is Miy Selfe.  Welcome, sir.”

“Hi,” Miy says quickly, quietly.  “How long is this conversation?  I have things to do.”  Myown tweaks his face slightly.  “I here you are a patriotic-type?”

Miy sits quietly then speaks, “I never said I was patriotic?”  “So your anti-patriotic?  Are you a hater?”


“So what is this goal you have for yourself?”  “I want to make people happy.  I want to do good.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, its so great.  You would think I’d done something by now.  I have not.  I don’t even know why I’m here.  I haven’t done and movies.  I haven’t made a difference in the world.”

“Woah, now friend.  Don’t you have a butt load of kids.”

“I have a few.”  “Then you are making a difference everyday.”  “To those children,” Miy inserted.  “I see,” says Myown with a smile…

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When You Grow Old (a very short story)

Wishing you all a peaceful Christmas season with love and hope and peace. This isn’t a Christmas story but I’m sharing it – for you.

Vampire Maman

A short story:

When You Grow Old

“Who will take care of you when you get old?” I asked my brother’s caretaker Josh.

My brother Bob is 90 years old. A former screenwriter and movie producer, he lives in a modern glass and polished wood mansion on the Central Coast of California.

I’d been at Bob’s for six months.

“Your grandmother would have been 101 this year,” Bob told me. I was going to turn 101 this year, at the end of October. What Bob doesn’t know is that I am his sister Valentina. He doesn’t know I’m a vampire either. He thinks I’m a great niece who is the spitting image of his older sister who passed away in 1935.

I walked the beach in the evenings with Bob. He leaned my arm and told me about the cycles of the tide and the migration of the whales.


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The ride from the stranger in a red suit.

In 1988, it was Christmastime, I was getting gas.

A woman came up to me. She had a tiny little girl with that cute wonderful toddler face and big brown eyes.

She asked me if there was a Greyhound station near by. I told her the closest station was about 10 miles away.

She’d gone to Folsom Prison to visit her Uncle who worked there. He had the day off and had gone to Oakland. They’d missed each other. Her surprise visit had gone all wrong.

I didn’t know her. She was from Oakland. She was black. I was a pale white career girl with high heels and a red suit. I lived in a town where 90% of the citizens were white (except for the people in Folsom Prison.) It shouldn’t have mattered what color any of us were.

We were both nice normal young women. That is all that mattered.

I didn’t know her. I didn’t know her uncle.  I was getting gas because I was going to the Greyhound station to ship a package to Los Angeles.

I gave her and the sweet toddler a ride. She started to cry. I told her that it was ok and to have a great trip.

I didn’t do anything extraordinary. I just did the right thing. I never thought about it again and never even said anything to anybody.

The daughter would be grown now. I hope they had a wonderful Christmas and that all is well. The mom seemed sweet.

That’s all.

~ MT


gold bow

Short Story Sunday: Christmas Orphans (a short random tale)

A wonderful light hearted Christmas tale… no I’m not saying that with a straight face, just read it and share it with all your friends and family.

Vampire Maman

“Why do I have eyes of different colors? The brown eye is my own. The blue eye is a different story. I plucked it from the freshly dead body of a young Irish nun. She’d killed herself because she had a vision that the child she was carrying, the child of the handsome young priest, was the Antichrist.”

“Why were you there Uncle Jeff?” A young voice in a hushed whisper asked.

“Because, my dear, I was the handsome young priest. That was before the life I live now. But I still see visions of angels and of a family in a warm embrace of love, then the fires of Hell with dancing devils and…”

“JEFF. STOP IT,” I yelled. “You’re going to give them nightmares.”

I know better than to ask my crazy brother to tell Christmas stories to my children and their young cousins.

“But, Simon, the stories are…

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Christmas Cheer

A short story about Christmas cheer.


This used to be my favorite time of the year. When I see those Christmas decorations up, now, it just reminds me of the pain. She announced, on Christmas day, she was leaving me for my brother, and that she was carrying his child. Merry Christmas to me.
As I was walking around the city streets, try to get some Christmas cheer, she caught my eye. Lindsey got married, and moved away five years ago. What was she doing back? Her parents lived in Florida, and I think his died when he was little. Whatever the reason, it was nice to see a friendly face. As she got closer, something tugged at my heart.
“Hi Jake,” she put her arms around me and pulled me close.
I squeezed her tight, “How you doing? You here for Christmas?”
She stepped back from my grasp, and looked at me with a frown…

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Red Dress, White Trim, A Dancing Ghost and the Quiet Musings of a Vampire Mom

Vampire Maman

Red Dress, White Trim, A Dancing Ghost and the Quiet Musings of a Vampire Mom

She was a shining light in the forest, not a ghost who haunts but a ghost who dances to her own music.

I watched from my window as Mary danced in the woods. She wore not clothing of the 15th century when she lived, but a red mini dress with white fur trim on the hem and bell shaped sleeves. A long Santa had was on her head with a fluffy white ball at the tip. Bells adorned the top of her white over-the-knee boots. Her red-brown hair was braided with gold ribbon. When you’re a ghost you can wear what you want, do what you want, dance and love when you want.

That is if you don’t let your own ghosts get in the way. That was Mary.

Had it been any other…

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The Travelers – A Christmas Tale of Mystery, Love and Hope

Vampire Maman

The Travelers

A Christmas Story from Juliette Kings

The night was falling on the travelers, Daniel and his son Tad and daughter Ada. They had to stop before the nightfall and freezing snowfalls. They were finally going home from the dreams of gold to the city where Daniel had found a job in his profession of typesetter and reporter. When his wife had passed on he followed his dream to the California gold fields taking his teenage children with him.

They came upon a cabin, the door boarded up from the outside, the windows shuttered. It looked deserted and like shelter for the night. Dan and his son pried the nails off of the boards, which secured the door and went into the two-room structure. Inside was a cozy room with a fireplace, comfortable chairs and a wall full of books. Dan sent Tad out to bring in firewood.


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beyond grief, beyond belief

Perspectives on Life, the Universe and Everything

we mourn deaths of hundreds of innocent children today

news reel lost it time
repeating, reminding, binding
us in this tragedy together

they were light in a dark night
they were day, gold in clay
all they wanted was to play

enjoy life, make smiles language of universe
who gave you the right to end their dream
who gave you the right to bend the fabric

and do the sin which even Satan disowns
he hates that we call you evil, as you are far above it
do you breath, is it blood in your food

human fingers in your soup,
when you sleep do you sleep on
skulls of mothers and their unborn children

do you live, is it life what you call
recall every moment when you were young
were you young or abomination appeared randomly

what is consciousness to you
yes mastermind, deathly blind,
merciless monster, why…

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Fa la la la la la Pigladillo

Curious post about curious things… and opera and cute critters

Vampire Maman

When I arrived home this afternoon my brother Andy (Andrew) had already arrived for the weekend. I love it when he visits. The days and night are full of music and unexpected fun. You see, out of my four older Vampire brothers, Andy is the most creative and kind of different. Andy and I are the same that way – we’re the most unique of the bunch. But don’t tell the others I said that.

Andy just came back from a tour – he is an opera singer, one of the best, but he was opening for a well known pop punk metal sort of band just for fun.

He and my 15 year old daughter Clara were sitting on the couch playing their guitars. It was a sweet scene. Andy looked up with a smile, his hazel eyes the color of a stormy sea, his long chestnut colored hair around…

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Curse Of The Shadow People

So far this is my favorite WP post of the week. Great story!

S3010061-600x450I’m going to start this post off by saying that I don’t believe in ghosts. While I find ghost stories entertaining I don’t believe them. I like hearing tales about aliens, bigfoot and the supernatural but I look at them more as entertainment than reality. I don’t watch ghost hunting shows because I don’t believe they will ever find proof, that being said I like the shows where they give the history of a place and talk about the ghosts that haunt it.

About 10 years ago I heard about a place close to where I live where there is a Science Fiction cafe(the place is still in business so I don’t want to give the real name.)and they have a guided tour of the haunted woods that are near the location. Supposedly this section of the woods is home to ghosts, strange vortexes that lead to other dimensions, fairies…

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~~ Another Angel ~~

Beatuiful verse from Cead Mile Failte

Céad Míle Fáilte

Through the foggy realm of sleep

A hazy slyph came from the deep

And in this haunting nighttime mist

Came a tender touch, then a kiss.


This sprightly spirit danced through the room

Banishing the impending gloom

Her gown a lacey, gauzy veil

Her features pallid white, and pale.


Her scent jasmine and columbine

Mixed with that of rose and wine

She vanished into the morning’s air

The sleeper reaching in despair.


With dawn all trace of her was gone

‘cept a hint of jasmine in the air

On the nightstand in the sun

A wilted rose was laying there.




On December 10, 1962 at 11:47 P.M.

Heaven gained another angel…


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[Intermezzo] Wherein I Offer You a Few Disjointed but Heartfelt Memories of My Dead Friend Frank on Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day

A wonderful post to remember a good man and a good friend.

This post gets five out of five stars from West Coast Review!

A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea.

Dear World,

Frank died at 87 1/2 years old. Picture this: When he was a tow-headed little boy, just a toddler, his parents dressed him in short pants and a striped shirt and posed him on the hood of the family Model T, grinning. Feisty. He was named after a prominent ancestor, Benjamin Franklin, and they shared more than a name: both were brilliant, larger-than-life, charismatic. Actually, he came from a long line of characters: a grandfather who died, in his 90s, as the result of a bar fight, a father who was an early aviator. That family bred their men big, bold, and memorable. Frank, my Frank, my friend, came of age during the Great Depression. He had an older brother, equally brilliant; when it came time for Frank to attend college in ’37 or ’38, there was no money left. None. His brother had the degree that Frank…

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