Vampire Hunter pt. 2

Lone Star Pioneer Cemetery, Portland, Oregon.

Part one is the last post:

It was seriously eerie, and I could almost hear the shrouded ghosts tittering as I stood with a bull’s-eye on my chest, heart dead center of it waiting to be tapped.

Then I realized that the sounds I had heard could possibly be caused by the breeze rustling the overhanging leaves and branches against the windows of the more economically up-scale mausoleums. Or perhaps the noise was simply a neighborhood cat chasing its prey through the bushes lining the pathway. It did not have to be caused by the stealthy opening of the metal gates by the vampire said to sleep in the nearby crypt.

I wished I was elsewhere with a reasonable job, but how many positions could an English major minoring in photography fill? And I wished I was outside a nightclub in a well lit area trying for a picture of one of the sparkling, vegetarian sort. Damn vampire, as metaphor, boss anyway. He had it in for me, and this assignment really showed it. “It would serve him right if I got bit and came back as a vampire,” I muttered under my breath, sotto-voice, not wanting to make too much noise, but wanting something recognizably human to break up the silence.

“Five more minutes, and I’m out of here,” I muttered a bit more loudly, then cringed as a crow perched among the moss nearby spoke to me. I would swear it murmured “nevermore,” but that was probably my overly active imagination.

My cell phone found its way into my hand, path beaten from long use, and I checked my Twitter account hoping for an update. But it was all promo by the big biz who saw Twitter as a purely marketing tool.

I was by now really uncomfortable, sincerely regretting the double shot venti latte I’d had since there were no public restrooms in the cemetery, even had I been willing to leave my post to find one.

Then I saw something emerging from the crypt across the aisle from me. There were two; no one had mentioned that there would be two! And boy-oh-boy they weren’t sparkly. They barely looked human. They weren’t the sort my boss would plaster across the front page; too creepy.

And then I realized they were looking at me…

I had only the presence of mind to snap one quick photo as I fled, hoping they would not give chase, hoping I could run faster than them. Hoping to see one more dawn. To live.

copyright Leslie Ormandy, all rights reserved.