By Gail Fulkerson
It was just after 11:00 pm when Ophelia and Roscoe awoke to the sound of breaking glass. Ophelia was up and on her way downstairs, with Roscoe close behind, when she heard the sounds of rummaging in drawers. Her preternatural hearing discerned that the sound was coming from the kitchen.
Not wanting the intruder to hear her, Ophelia floated off the floor a few inches and telepathically instructed Roscoe to do the same. Approaching the kitchen doorway, they stood and watched the thief methodically search the drawers for anything worth stealing. The pair saw the criminal pocket something; Ophelia would retrieve it after she'd dispatched the interloper.
Roscoe let a growl escape. The large man jerked and whirled around, almost losing his grip on the flashlight. There, bathed in the bright circle of light, were Ophelia and Roscoe, floating, their vampiric eyes red and glaring. The man, horrified, dropped the flashlight. The sound was deafening in the quiet kitchen as it clattered to the floor. He tried to backpedal to get away from the pair, but Ophelia was faster. She had him in a vice-like grip before he knew what was happening.
"What do you think you're doing in my house?" Ophelia hissed. "No one comes into my home without being invited, and I don't think I sent you an invitation. But now that you're here, let's take a tour of the basement. I'll show you the cupboard where I keep the blood before I add yours to my pantry."
The man was so scared that he was gibbering. She wasn't sure, but Ophelia thought that maybe he was asking her to spare his life. How sweet, she thought, he thinks I'm going to save him. The idea made her chuckle, which horrified him even more.
Down the basement stairs they went, Ophelia gripping the man's arm tightly. Try as he might to get free, the man was no match for Ophelia's strength. He tripped on the last step and almost fell face-first onto the cement floor.
"Oopsy-daisy, that last step is a loo-loo," Ophelia grinned, showing her fangs.
The man continued to beg and plead for his life, but it ultimately fell upon deaf ears.
Ophelia flipped him upside down and tied him to a post, placing a large ceramic bowl beneath his head. She nuzzled his neck, searching for the best place to bite. Finding it, she nicked the vein with a slight nip to get the blood flowing.
It didn't take long for the man to succumb to the blood loss. Ophelia ended up with eight blood bags, which she put into sterilized bottles, holding back one for her and Roscoe to drink before going back to bed.
"Well, Roscoe, wasn't that exciting?" asked Ophelia as she measured out the blood into their respective mug and bowl.
Roscoe agreed wholeheartedly as he drank his share. He told her that he'd love to do the same thing the next night, but Ophelia wasn't keen on repeating it so soon.
"How about we do a re-enactment next month, when the moon is full?" Ophelia suggested. Roscoe was okay with that.
It was getting light, so Ophelia and Roscoe headed upstairs to the coffin bed. The intruder had taken a lot out of her, and she was beat. She would see to the broken glass after she had a good day's sleep. Roscoe was already sleeping; he had a belly full of the man's blood. Over-indulging always seemed to make him sleepy, and tonight was no exception.
The next night, Ophelia got a good look at the damage the thief had done. She would require someone to repair the door and replace the broken glass. She consulted the telephone book and found a listing for just such a person, called and made the arrangements for the next day. As usual, she got a quote for the job and left enough cash on the counter to cover the cost, with a few extra dollars to satisfy the repairer.
Ophelia had warned Roscoe that the man repairing the broken window was going to be in the house the next day, so if he heard anything out of the ordinary, he could dismiss it and go back to sleep. He was awakened in the afternoon when someone dropped a hammer on the floor downstairs. He went to investigate and found the maintenance man busily fixing the window and the back door, so he went back upstairs to bed.
Ophelia heard the noise, too, and waited for Roscoe to return to bed. He gave her a progress report before he went back to sleep.
She awoke just before 10 pm and went downstairs to put the kettle on for some blood tea. Roscoe was still sleeping, but once he smelled the blood tea brewing, he would be awake and in the kitchen. Ophelia checked to ensure the maintenance person had taken their money and left an invoice as instructed. He took the money and left the bill and a note telling Ophelia not to use the back door for a day, thus allowing the glue to dry around the panes of glass he'd replaced.
Ophelia had found the personal item the thief had pocketed: a watch and chain that had belonged to her father. She was glad to have it back; it was one of the few things she owned that had once belonged to a family member. She took it upstairs to put with her other treasures.
It was bad enough that an intruder had gotten into the house; she'd have to make sure that she locked every door and window before she went to bed at night. It was a pain, but necessary for their safety.
Now that things were back to normal, Ophelia could relax. She took Roscoe out for a walk around midnight so the two of them could stretch their legs.
They had one more cup of blood tea when they got home and then turned in for the day.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment