By Gail FulkersonIf not for the wind, the snowfall would be silent. Ophelia lay in her coffin bed, listening to the wind howl through the eaves, rattling the windows as it raged. Roscoe had buried himself as deeply as he could in the myriad blankets and quilts to muffle the terrifying sound. He'd never gotten over the screaming sounds of a hurricane when he was a young pup. Whenever the wind kicked up a ruckus, Roscoe hid in the coffin bed.
The snow fell, and the roaring wind barreled through the streets, blowing snow ahead of it. Drifts accumulated, small at first, but as the night wore on, more snow piled up, making it difficult to walk or drive. Ophelia was glad she didn't have to do either. Tonight, going out for any reason, particularly hunting, was treacherous.
Hunger pangs reminded her she hadn't fed in a day, so Ophelia got out of bed and padded down to the basement for a mason jar of blood. Still listening to the storm, she grabbed three jars, one for now and two that she put in the refrigerator for later.
"Roscoe, I'm warming up some blood. Do you want any?" Ophelia called up the stairs to her companion.
Her question went unanswered; either Roscoe was sleeping, or the sound of the wind was louder than she thought.
The snow fell, and the roaring wind barreled through the streets, blowing snow ahead of it. Drifts accumulated, small at first, but as the night wore on, more snow piled up, making it difficult to walk or drive. Ophelia was glad she didn't have to do either. Tonight, going out for any reason, particularly hunting, was treacherous.
Hunger pangs reminded her she hadn't fed in a day, so Ophelia got out of bed and padded down to the basement for a mason jar of blood. Still listening to the storm, she grabbed three jars, one for now and two that she put in the refrigerator for later.
"Roscoe, I'm warming up some blood. Do you want any?" Ophelia called up the stairs to her companion.
Her question went unanswered; either Roscoe was sleeping, or the sound of the wind was louder than she thought.
"Come down when you're ready, little man," she said, returning to the kitchen to heat her meal.
Since hunting was off the table for tonight, Ophelia decided to luxuriate in a steaming bubble bath. She took her cup of blood tea into the bathroom and set it on the side of the tub while she disrobed.
When Roscoe walked in, she was up to her neck in hot water and bubbles. He could smell the blood tea and asked Ophelia if he could have some.
"Sure thing, little guy," she said as she placed her cup on the floor. Roscoe lapped it up and looked for more. "Sorry, buddy, but that's it until I get out of the tub."
Roscoe said he had to go outside, so away he went, returning some minutes later, his fur wet with melting snow. Ophelia asked him to grab a clean towel and bring it to her so she could towel him off before picking him up and putting him beside her in the tub. Together, the pair relaxed in the bath until the water started to cool.
Ophelia had made tiny replicas of her bright white nighties to fit Roscoe. She placed one on him and watched as he proudly sashayed around in it. He arranged a towel on his head to mimic the towel Ophelia wrapped her hair in, completing his ensemble. At times like these, Ophelia wished she could photograph Roscoe in his outfit but knew he would never show up in the picture.
The pair finished the night sipping on some blood tea as they sat in the comfy chair facing the picture window in the living room, watching the snowfall accumulate. As light colored the sky, Ophelia and Roscoe headed up the stairs to bed. Roscoe wore his bright white nightie as he burrowed into the blankets and quilts.
When the pair awakened, it was well past twilight. Ophelia arose and put on a housecoat and slippers before heading to the kitchen to put on the kettle for tea. Then she went to the basement to bring up three mason jars of blood: breakfast, lunch and dinner. Roscoe's meals were in the fridge in a fourth mason jar that Ophelia had brought up the night before.
"C'mon, Roscoe, let's get a move on. Tonight, we are hunting," Ophelia told her companion.
Roscoe finished his meal and waited for Ophelia at the front door, his leash hanging loosely in his teeth.
The little vampire girl donned a heavy coat, a thick scarf, boots, and a warm hat and joined Roscoe at the door. Together, they walked out the front door and down the porch steps to the sidewalk, turning right towards the docks.
Roscoe led the way as he had done numerous times. He was wearing the doggie winter coat and hat ensemble that Ophelia had purchased for him the last time she was at the pet store. She'd also bought a set of winter boots to complete the outfit, but Roscoe refused to wear them; he said the paw-wear made his feet feel 'blind.'
Hunting on the docks that night proved highly successful. Before sunrise, the pair had hunted down and killed sixty rats. Both Ophelia and Roscoe were beyond sated.
"My dear boy, we'll have to walk home. My stomach is so full I can barely stand up straight, let alone fly." Off they went, with Roscoe leading the way. His little belly had swelled from all the blood he drank; it was almost scraping the sidewalk. The two of them made it to the front porch before the sun rose over the horizon.
They settled into the coffin bed, and there was no blood tea before retiring."Sweet dreams, Roscoe," yawned Ophelia as she rolled over and got comfortable. He didn't hear her; he was already fast asleep.
Ophelia had made tiny replicas of her bright white nighties to fit Roscoe. She placed one on him and watched as he proudly sashayed around in it. He arranged a towel on his head to mimic the towel Ophelia wrapped her hair in, completing his ensemble. At times like these, Ophelia wished she could photograph Roscoe in his outfit but knew he would never show up in the picture.
The pair finished the night sipping on some blood tea as they sat in the comfy chair facing the picture window in the living room, watching the snowfall accumulate. As light colored the sky, Ophelia and Roscoe headed up the stairs to bed. Roscoe wore his bright white nightie as he burrowed into the blankets and quilts.
When the pair awakened, it was well past twilight. Ophelia arose and put on a housecoat and slippers before heading to the kitchen to put on the kettle for tea. Then she went to the basement to bring up three mason jars of blood: breakfast, lunch and dinner. Roscoe's meals were in the fridge in a fourth mason jar that Ophelia had brought up the night before.
"C'mon, Roscoe, let's get a move on. Tonight, we are hunting," Ophelia told her companion.
Roscoe finished his meal and waited for Ophelia at the front door, his leash hanging loosely in his teeth.
The little vampire girl donned a heavy coat, a thick scarf, boots, and a warm hat and joined Roscoe at the door. Together, they walked out the front door and down the porch steps to the sidewalk, turning right towards the docks.
Roscoe led the way as he had done numerous times. He was wearing the doggie winter coat and hat ensemble that Ophelia had purchased for him the last time she was at the pet store. She'd also bought a set of winter boots to complete the outfit, but Roscoe refused to wear them; he said the paw-wear made his feet feel 'blind.'
Hunting on the docks that night proved highly successful. Before sunrise, the pair had hunted down and killed sixty rats. Both Ophelia and Roscoe were beyond sated.
"My dear boy, we'll have to walk home. My stomach is so full I can barely stand up straight, let alone fly." Off they went, with Roscoe leading the way. His little belly had swelled from all the blood he drank; it was almost scraping the sidewalk. The two of them made it to the front porch before the sun rose over the horizon.
They settled into the coffin bed, and there was no blood tea before retiring."Sweet dreams, Roscoe," yawned Ophelia as she rolled over and got comfortable. He didn't hear her; he was already fast asleep.
-- 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.
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