West Coast Review

Eleora couldn’t remember what she did yesterday, but she could tell stories of her childhood in excruciating detail. My daughter and niece sat next to her, holding her small hands in theirs. They looked like three young women about the same age. My Clara is 16, Lauren is 21 and Eleora is, well, nobody knows how old she is. We know Eleora is over 2,000 years old but no exact number has ever come out.

The girls heard stories their parents and grandparents had never heard. These were ancient lost tales that she’d hoarded until she found the right audience.

Tellias, her husband, told the girls to watch if they went outside. Eleora might wander off on her own and not find her way back.

He watched the woman he loved, his eyes filled with pain. Sometimes I’d see a rare bit of anger. Of course there is always love…

As I sit pondering… the cat walks over to the dog bowl and check it out. There is nothing there she desires.

It is odd how random thoughts go in and out. Kind of like worms in that weird old kids song.

The worms go in

The worms go out

The worms play pinochle on your snout.

Anyway, on the way home this morning, after dropping Clara off for a Mock SAT test, I was thinking about what I’d write today. Junior year in high school is busy. All week long she has been seeing college recruiters and now tests. Mock SAT today (the new test), PSAT next week during school, then the real SAT and ACT. Then the AP tests. Then my mind goes off in other directions. What songs would I include on a play list for old boyfriends? It has been a while since we played wii Just…

The Demon sat on the roof of the house wondering what to do next. She looked around wondering how they put on the roof with such a steep pitch. 12/12 she figured. Standing up she stretched out her leathery wings and brushed back her hair with claw tipped fingers.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know her job. It wasn’t like she wasn’t trained right. It wasn’t like everything she was ever to be was to be wasn’t drilled into her head for centuries.

Flying to the next yard over she found, the handsome Vampire sitting in a chair, with a goblet of blood and his Nook. She knew him. He would know what to do. He would help.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” the Demon told the Vampire.

“What do you mean?” He glared at her with no light in his eyes.

“I am so frustrated with everything. I…

Sometimes Vampires travel. Sometimes we have to fly. Sometimes we’re asked to take other Vampires to the airport to fly.

That was me yesterday.

Tellias and Eleora the ancient Vampires in my life took a trip to Washington DC to visit friends. They’d thought about driving but half the time they can’t even find their own way home from mail box at the end of their driveway.

I arrived at their home to find them ready to go. I was glad I’d arrived early. Eleora was dressed in a robe with a belt around the waist and rubber boots.

“Were you going to let her go out in THAT?” I asked Tellias, feeling my blood pressure rise (OK, if I had blood pressure.)

He shrugged his shoulders. “I knew you’d take care of her wardrobe issues.”

Luckily Tellias had the sense enough to wear black trousers and a black button…

This morning Garrett (age 19) and I stopped by to see Great Great Great Grandmama Lola. Even as Vampires go she is old (born the same year as Geoffrey Chaucer), but she looks all of twenty-six.

In her living room was a large fish tank. Garrett immediately went over to check it out. “When did you get this Grams?”

“Last week. I caught the fish myself. Aren’t they lovely.”

In the tank were two rainbow trout, fresh from the river. I could have given her flack about catching wild fish but I didn’t. It would have been a waste of my breath.

Garrett held out his arm and an African Gray parrot landed on his wrist. Lola claims the parrot is over 200 years old but I never know what to think. She has had the bird for over 80 years so she could very well be right. But then I…

ro·mance

rōˈmans,ˈrōˌmans
noun
1. a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love.
“in search of romance” love, especially when sentimental or idealized.

2. a quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life.
“the beauty and romance of the night”

3. a stupid feeling of unrealistic expectations that makes one do stupid and potentially embarrassing things.

In 1988, the night before a business trip from Sacramento to Seattle, I had a dream about a man with sandy colored hair and a great smile. Yes, he was the man of my dreams. I called my brother Val and told him about it. We laughed.

The next afternoon, wearing a blue and black dress that hugged my lovely curves and black heels, I boarded my flight and found myself sitting next to the man in my dream. I kid you not. This is not a flight of fancy or fiction.

We talked…

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Dear Diary,

I wrap my arms in bandages cursing the day I ever met the demons that try to haunt me. If I am dead, they are truly the spawn of those who have never lived.

They are the ones who have no past and a future bathed in pain. They were spawned by hate and malice. They thrive on violence and spite. No, it wasn’t my ex-wife.

Poison surged through my veins like fire. Fear and anger filled me – emotions I do not allow had all come back.

Looking up I saw a figure. Gillian, my… I don’t know what to call her. She is just mine and I am hers. We are together but we are not.

She took my arm and held it. “I will do what I can. What the crap happened?”

I could feel the heat and pain turning to cold. The fear and anger…