Confessions of a Vampire-Book Slut

 I am Leslie Ormandy, and I confess I am a vampire-book slut.

My first vampire-book relationship was with Bill Compton. He was handsome, gentlemanly, mysterious, and took his time courting me. I enjoyed every minute I spent with him in my arms with his hard-back clasped firmly between my hands. Yes, I knew about his relationships with other women. I knew that even while he was in bed with me, a part of him was enjoying a relationship with someone else. He was indiscriminate and would never be solely mine. Eventually the last page of our relationship was reached, and I had to move on. I had needs. I hated going to bed without someone to entertain me.

My next vampire-book relationship was with Jean Claude. He was masterful, powerful, in control. And the sex was hot, steamy, overpowering. Our liaison lasted longer than the relationship with Bill. But again I had to share him. Gradually I heard other women talking about him. Saw his name mentioned in Blogs, on Facebook, on Twitter. I had to listen to other women talk about the pleasure he gave them, and they many – odd – places they took him to: beaches, Dr’s offices, even the DMV. But even then I remained faithful, unwilling to give up the bliss he provided. Then one day the last page of our relationship was reached, and I knew I needed to turn over a new leaf.

I then began a series of short serial relationships. One book stands you would term them. Oh, I crawled into bed with them whenever they appeared on my doorstep, and they gratified my need for romance, sex, blood, and vicarious adventure, but often my favorites would appear only every other year; then several would appear at the same time, and I would have to chose which one to buy first. Yes, by then I was willing to shell out my hard-earned cash, the product of my labor, in order to take one of my favorites to bed. Even; occasionally, I would take a new vampire to bed to enjoy when I tired of my favorites.  I was becoming a vampire-book slut.

Yes, I know this is a support group for vampire-book sluts and all, and if there ever was a vampire-book slut it is me. I know that I am not alone in the world. I know that I can not possibly be the only person with this dreadful addiction. I am certain that I am not alone in answering the call when it is whispered in the night, in an immortal whisper: “let me… entertain you!”

byline L Ormandy (AKA SweetGoth)

The UnNatural Enquirer

"The Haunted Place" Poe

(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow 

Shall dawn upon him desolate!)

And round about his home

 the glory

That blushed and bloomed,

Is but dim-

remembered 

story

Of the old time entombed.

-- Edgar Allan Poe, "The Haunted Palace." 

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" - - and for most of us (apart from those of the vampiric persuasion), only dim memories of names and times reflected in sepia images remain. 

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.

Vampire Hunter pt. 1

I crept into the cemetery after dark through a narrow opening between the fence and the bushes. It was creepy, but my rent was due and my landlord was not too fond of people of my persuasion; vampire photographers.

I stumbled over the rough ground past tombstones which glowed pale under the strobe of the moonlight filtering though the threatening clouds. It was a bad night to be entering such a place, but I'd heard rumors through the Twitterverse that vampires frequented this particular mausoleum. And if they were there, I needed to immortalize them in digital to pay my rent. The tabloids paid well for "authentic" vampire pictures, even if the vampire was not the hunky sort.

The skull partially buried in mulch but still managing to grin at me gave me pause; and I wondered if this was the right profession for me. But in my biz, it was produce or perish, right? So I crept on as stealthily as possible between the decaying gravestones while trying to find my location on the little map of the cemetery the kind lady at the desk had given me that morning. I kicked myself now for not having taken the time to figure out the right spot in daylight, but the map had made it look deceptively easy.

I almost died when I heard the eerie moaning sound of squeaking metal. I froze in place unwilling to alert any listeners to my presence, even while knowing that if it were the vampire I sought, my heart-beat would be a loud pounding bass drum in the otherwise deserted area.

Tune in again for the next segment.later this week.. (copyright Leslie Ormandy)

Dine and Dash

Ken is sporting a whole new look these days, a full length vampire cape and his signature shorts while he waits for Barbie to wake up for their late night bite at the local drive in. The menu features lots of fresh food and the main feature is Silence of the Lambs.