Don’t Let the Truth Get In The Way Of a Gothic Romance

“Hey, are you sure we’re allowed to be here, Malus?” she asked, glancing around nervously.

Malus rolled his eyes and kept walking. The headstones looked sinister by night and he reveled in the feeling. The black of his shirt sleeve was just a blur in the night, and he waved it out in front of him a few times to savour the effect.

The Mt Coot-tha Botanical Gardens, and her car, were far behind them. Now they were surrounded by memorials to the dead, and the dark. She tried to keep up with Malus, but the uneven, hilly ground of the Toowong Cemetery was slowing her down in her elegant, high heeled shoes.

“Aren’t we going to get in trouble if we’re caught?” she tried again.
He hissed his annoyance. “You know why we’re here.”
“I know, I know. Evidence of vampires.” Leaves rustled from the top of a nearby tree and she shrieked. “What was that!”
“Probably a possum, Heather.”
“Okay. But what if they aren’t like the ones in the Anne Rice books?”
“Look, go away then. If you can’t cope, just leave.”
His words brought her to a standstill, choking down an errant sob. “Why do you have to be like this?”

Malus rounded on her, moving nose to nose with her pretty white face. “We’ve already talked about it. No, we’re not meant to be here at night. If you don’t want to break the rules, please go home.”
“You’re a bastard, Tim!” she said, her sob forgotten, and she enjoyed seeing him squirm at his real name.
“I thought I told you…!” he started, before being cut off.
“Shove it, goth lord. Have fun on your own.”

Heather spun on her toes, swinging her long hair in a stinging assault across his face, and began her journey back to her car.

The bitch! he thought as she left. She’s no great loss. He refused to yell out after her, an act certain to add points to her perception of victory. He grunted in dismissal and spun on his toes, making an equally graceful turn.

He spun into a tall figure that was standing right in front on him, had a brief spasm of fear, and fell to the ground in a messy heap.
“Crap!” he said, looking up. “Who the hell’re you?”
“So sorry,” the man said in a breathless voice. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Tim.”
“It’s Malus. And you didn’t scare me.”
“Oh. The lady named you Tim.”
“She made a mistake.”
“Of course,” the man said as Tim stood up, brushing off his black clothes. “Tim, why are you here at,” he held a button on his watch, illuminating the screen and a gaunt face. “At 2:17 in the morning?”

Tim stopped and looked at the man, thinking quickly. “Uh. I. I’m just taking a short cut.”
“You’re not meant to be here after dark.”
“I didn’t know…”
“No matter, no matter,” the man said, waving away Tim’s protests. “I’m here to help you.”
“What do you mean?”

The man laughed, draped an arm over Tim’s shoulder and walked with him. “Oh Tim,” he said, “Anne Rice and her soppy philosophers, really! There’s someone here you should meet for a taste of reality.”
“Anne Rice? But, you heard…? Wait…!”
The man’s grip became painful on Tim’s shoulders, and moonlight glinted on fangs in the darkness.

Constructive criticism welcome. © 2008 Damian Herde

• Favorite
• Report Concern
• Share This
  • Facebook
  • Twitter

Add your comment

You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.

Tags:

been, blood, challenge, damian, lost, red, story, vampire and what’s