The Other Side of the Tracks

By Gail Faulkerson

Roscoe had awakened in the middle of the day to pee. He didn’t want to disturb his companion, Ophelia, so he tip-toed out of the coffin bed, across the floor and down the stairs until he reached the dog door in the kitchen. Ophelia closed and locked it every night, but Roscoe, having watched his mistress over countless nights, quickly opened the door and went outside to do his business.

Relieved, Roscoe returned to the coffin bed and fell asleep as soon as he was comfortably snuggled in the blankets. Ophelia didn’t stir until twilight, the usual time she awoke after a restful sleep.Padding downstairs to the kitchen, Ophelia plugged in the kettle to make herself a cuppa blood tea. Roscoe’s bowl was also empty, so Ophelia rinsed it out and refilled it with fresh blood from a jar in the fridge. When Roscoe arrived in the kitchen, the blood would have had time for the chill to come off it. Roscoe’s little tummy would cramp whenever he drank blood directly from the fridge.

Today was a special day for the diminutive pair; it was the first anniversary of Roscoes’ adoption. Ophelia didn’t want to let it go by without a small ceremony to mark the occasion. She picked some wildflowers and put them in a vase, which she set on the kitchen table. Sipping her tea, she took in the beauty of the arrangement and watched as a tiny spider fled across a flower petal, trying desperately to find a hiding place. Ophelia reached across the table and squashed the arachnid between the petal and her thumb.

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Roscoe was going to the kitchen when he heard Ophelia say, “Happy first anniversary, my sweet boy! Today marks the first year of our companionship, and I wanted to acknowledge it with a small ceremony. I picked these flowers for us and warmed up the blood in your bowl. Drink hearty, my little boy, then we can go on the adventure I’ve planned for us.”

If Roscoe could smile, he’d be grinning ear to ear. As it was, he looked at Ophelia with such a bright light in his eyes that it spoke volumes of how much he loved her. Ophelia reached out, scooped him into her arms, and hugged him. It’s a good thing he was a vampire dog; otherwise, Ophelia may have broken his bones and suffocated him with her embrace.After they’d finished their breakfasts, Ophelia and Roscoe left the house, and rather than taking their usual route, Ophelia called for a cab to pick them up. Getting in, she instructed the driver to take them to a park on the other side of the tracks. Since Ophelia’s house was in the seedier part of town, crossing the tracks put the pair in a neater, tidier neighborhood. Lower middle-class, respectable, hard-working people populated the streets and avenues. Ophelia loved to hunt here, and since she had teamed up with Roscoe, hunting was even more enjoyable.

“Okay, Roscoe, let’s get to it. What’ll it be first, a bunch of rats or a big, juicy boy? I’d go for the boy, but tonight, it’s the doggy’s choice. I’ll follow your lead.”

Roscoe picked up the scent of a boy half a block from where they were. Following it, the pair soon spied on a husky boy, about 10 or 11 years old. The kid was oblivious to everything around him, so he didn’t notice Roscoe and Ophelia gaining ground on him until it was too late.

Both vampires accosted him simultaneously, making it impossible for the boy to fight back effectively. Ophelia had the kid in a vice grip, her nails dug deeply into the boy’s flabby back, and her fangs equally as deep in his throat. Roscoe had hold of one of the boy’s ankles, biting down hard on the flesh, making it bleed profusely. Both drank heartily until the screaming boy succumbed, and then Ophelia pulled out some blood bags and filled them with the blood they couldn’t drink.

“Want to go down to the docks, Roscoe? I’ve been craving rat blood lately, and tonight’s adventure is the perfect time to get some. What do you say about a trip to the pier? I’ll fly us there.”They spent the rest of the night hunting and drinking on the pier. Rats as hefty as pampered house cats scurried hither and yon as the pair hunted with impunity. By the time light began to show in the eastern sky, both Ophelia and Roscoe were so uncomfortably sated they could barely move.

“I’m so stuffed it’s even uncomfortable to breathe, Roscoe. It’s getting brighter; there’s no time to waste. We need to get home quickly.”

Ophelia scooped up Roscoe and flew as fast as she could for home. They closed and locked the front door just as the sun broke the horizon.

“Whew, that was a close one!” Ophelia exclaimed as she gently placed Roscoe in the coffin bed and changed into one of her bright white nighties.

“We need to go on more adventures. This one was a blast. So, how about next week?” Roscoe didn’t answer. He was already sleeping.

-- Gail Fulkerson is a writer who specializes in writings of the supernatural. She lives with her family in Saskatchewan, where she is working on another story. This is a series about Ophelia Banks. Gail just published her new book: "Tales of the Macabre". The book is available at Turning the Tide bookstore in Saskatoon or online direct from Gail. Make a comment and I will pass on your information to her. Stay tuned to 'OZ' for future stories.