#just so u know we were actually in a graveyard near my house

[rowenas-my-fave-child]

Horace: father! …daddy

Enoch: we are in a graveyard

[yelenasdog]

tell me you’re that somebody ✧ (trevor zegras x fem reader)

genre: smut with plot

summary: trevor hadn’t expected anything to come from his routine tinder round-up of chicks for the first party of the summer at the lake house. but in all fairness, she wasn’t expecting anything when she’d downloaded the app in the first place. they’re both in over their heads.

words: 4k

warnings: alcohol mention, cheesy situation lol, smut, fingering, handjob, public sex (or foreplay? technically? whatever she gets fingered in a hot tub), cursing, reader and trev meet through tinder, use of pet name (baby)

a/n: @eminems-skittles and i texted abt this like a week ago and i haven’t been able to stop thinking abt this so. here! cassie ur my biggest cheerleader i love u 🤍 also the song mentioned later in the fic is “love me” by lil wayne btw and it lightly inspired the fic. so. do w that what u will. happy reading! 

The music was loud at the party, and that combined with the amount of drunk 20 somethings and flashing LED lights coming from inside the house would’ve been enough to make her lose her mind.

Key word: would’ve.

But she didn’t. Not yet, anyway. Because in all the noise and smoke and fucking craziness, she had him. And, despite being in a steamy hot tub, it wasn’t the most romantic situation ever, she’d be the first to admit.

The music blasting sounded like it was some kind of Lil Wayne song from 2013 (actually, was that Drake? No, it’s both of them) and the pair was surrounded by a graveyard of half empty beer bottles and cans from where they resided in the hot tub. (All from the girls who took about four minuscule sips from them to seem cool in front of the famed hockey players. That was only before abandoning them for a Whiteclaw the second they got warm.)

But she didn’t pay much care to the scenery, focusing just on the man in front of her. Or, beneath her, if we’re being technical.

Their relationship was a, shall we say, recent development. As in, when Trevor had rented a lake house with his buddies during the off season, and word of the first party had been spread, he’d taken to his Tinder. He’d been tasked with finding the girls, and even though he’d kind of felt like a pimp, he’d scrolled through anyway, finding chicks near his location, matching and inviting them quickly.

He came across her profile, seeing the bio mentioning she wasn’t expecting much from the app, but that she downloaded it for kicks and giggles. She was probably the hottest he’d seen yet (and would see), and he didn’t hesitate to swipe right. He mentally called dibs on the girl, who’s name was apparently Y/n, and not expecting a match right away, he pocketed his phone. Satisfied with the roster he’d created for the party, he stood up, heading outside where some of the guys were already playing a casual game of pong.

He chuckled to himself at the sight before him, Jamie and Alex half asleep in two of the chairs on the pool deck, Quinn on the same page as he scrolled through his phone. Jack and Cole were the two playing pong, while various other friends, some Trevor knew, some he didn’t, lingered about.

Trevor sat down, yawning. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of tiredness, but failing. Conversation drones on, and he mostly ignores it, zoning out. He was snapped out of his trance by the dinging of his phone, which he quickly retrieved, desperate for anything more interesting than what he was currently subject to.

He wasn’t disappointed at what he saw, the notification that he’d matched with someone bright against his lock screen. He clicked, hoping it was Y/n from earlier. It was, and at this revelation, he immediately opened up a chat, not caring that he probably looked desperate.

“Hi :)” he typed out, pressing send. Basic, he knows, but he figured he’d play it safe. He went back and looked at her profile again, swiping through all of the photos. He reread her bio, seeing that she had only recently moved to the area, loved hockey and a few other sports, and was currently still in school, studying for a doctorate. Fancy.

The photos didn’t quite match what the bio said, in Trevor’s mind. There was one of her in tight leggings and a sports bra posing with what he assumed was her dog, another in the garage of some race team, donned in their colors. Which doesn’t seem too far off, but then he kept scrolling.

A personal favorite (yes, it’s only been 10 minutes, yes, he had a personal favorite) was one of her in a rickety bar. It was taken with flash, and her smile was nearly brighter than said flash. It was dim in the photo aside from purple and blue stage lights, a band in the back in front of a crowd of people. Her hand was in the air, wrapped around a bottle of some sort, her other one slung around the shoulders of a guy wearing a cowboy hat. It was her brother in law, Trevor had learned from the bio.

He scrolled through the various pics multiple times after that, landing on one of her in a skimpy blue bikini, smiling on what appeared to be the bow of a yacht.

It caught the attention of Quinn, who’d been on his way inside. He stopped mid sentence, placing a hand on the back of Trevor’s chair.

“Who the fuck is that?” He questioned, leaning in towards Z’s phone. Trevor looked up at him, rolling his eyes and saying “dude, could you get any closer?” Quinn stepped away, his hand still gripping the edge of the chair.

“My bad. Like I said, who’s that?”

“Who’s who?” Jack asked from where he was still playing pong, curious as to what had piqued his older brother’s interest. Jamie, who’d taken Cole’s spot, turned his head as well, hand dropping from where it was mid air.

“Just an absolute rocket Trevor is trying to keep to himself.” Came the voice of Cole, who’d gone inside to get a water and was now back out, peering over Trevor’s shoulder. Z rolled his eyes again, turning off his phone and setting it on the table, face down.

“Well if she’s a rocket,” Jack started, “then is she coming tonight?”

Trevor shrugged. “We’ll see.” He replied, standing up and stretching. “I’m going to get a coffee. Text me if you want anything, ya fuckin’ idiots.” He added, turning and walking inside.

Up until the moment he was walking through the doors of the Starbucks, his phone was still flooding with orders from various numbers. It was a lot of black coffees and everything bagels, and he wasn’t looking forward to carrying them all to the car.

His woeful thoughts of cream cheese and cold brews were interrupted as he lifted his head, planted in place by what he saw.

“Yeah, I guess I should be thanking you for making me download it, but that’s if it’s actually him. What if it’s some creep, huh? I go to his place thinking it’s fuckin Trevor Zegras and it’s some 60 year old named Barnaby Wilson.” She pauses, listening to whoever was on the other side of the phone. “No, I don’t know what kind of name Barnaby Wilson is, nor do I care about a verification system. I care about becoming a murder victim on a shitty true crime podcast.” Another pause.

Then, just as she’s about to speak, she’s cut off by the barista yelling “Y/n!” far too loud for her liking. “Whatever, I’ll call you back. Yes, I’ll keep you updated! I promise. Okay. Love you, bye.” She rolled her eyes to herself, chuckling as she made the short walk to the counter. She grabbed her order with a “thank you” to the barista, before making her way over to the exit.

The exit where Trevor, like an idiot, was still stupidly standing.

“Hey, dude, you gonna order or what?” Some unenthusiastic teen who manned the register asked, obviously not fazed in the slightest by the NHL superstar in front of him.

“Uh, yeah. Just, looking at the menu.” He turned to where a mini line had formed behind him, apologizing to the older woman who had been standing behind him, waiting. He stepped aside, forcing his legs to carry him over to where she had been about to leave.

“Hey, Y/n!”

She turned, eyes wide as saucers upon hearing her name by someone who wasn’t a barista. When she saw that it was the real Trevor Zegras, not Barnaby Wilson, she just about fainted.

“Trevor? Zegras?” She wanted to facepalm at her reaction, and probably would have if it wasn’t from the bag in one hand and drink in the other.

A cocky smile came across Trevor’s face, starting to feel a little bit like himself again at the recognition, standing a little taller.

“In the flesh.” Okay. Maybe a little bit too himself.

“You get my message?” He asked, and she nodded, a small smile raising the corners of her mouth.

“I did. Haven’t responded yet, though. Wasn’t sure if you were the real deal. Not sure if you were some creep pretending to be Trevor Zegras.”

“Barnaby Wilson.” He added, and she grew red at the realization he heard that conversation. A small laugh left her, as her hand with the bag came up to scratch the back of her neck.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Right.” He added quietly, a smile still cemented onto his face.

“Well”, he started after a moment of quiet. ”I was going to ask you over messages, but since you’re here, I’m having a party later with a couple of buddies. I’d love it if you could make it.”

Her jaw dropped, and she had to play it off as if it was a yawn. Which probably looked stupid the more she thought about it, but who could blame her? In the most typical Wattpad, coffee shop AU meet-cute way possible, she was invited to a party of NHLers, by an NHLer.

She didn’t even give a second thought to her paper that was due in three days, all she needed to do were revisions anyway. She immediately accepted, and after a quick hug initiated by Trevor and plans to exchange numbers and text her the details, they parted.

She got to the car and screamed, before dialing back her best friend who she’d been on the phone with, thanking her endlessly for forcing her to download Tinder.

Trevor, who now was at the back of the line for drinks, texted the group chat to let them know she was definitely coming. Then, he got the notification he had a message on Tinder, seeing it was her responding to his “Hi :)” with a “Hi, not Barnaby.”

That led to where they were now.

When she’d showed up to the party, instructed by Trevor to come wearing a swimsuit, it was like everything stopped.

Much to the dismay of their dates, all of the boys craned their necks to look at the girl who Trevor hadn’t shut up about since that morning, not disappointed in the slightest.

Her denim cutoffs showed off her legs to where they were cut off by a pair of white converse, her white bikini top a slightly lighter shade, not subject to the same daily abuse as the shoes. Trevor had greeted her with a hug, his hand never leaving her back once they parted. He’d made the rounds, introducing her to all his wide eyed friends, before the two of them settled into conversation with Cole about the upcoming Formula 1 season.

Trevor had never given a shit about F1 before. Racing was never really for him. But hearing her ask Cole with such wonder in her voice about what it was like to meet Fernando Alonso, and speak with such conviction about her opinion on the strategy at Ferrari? What they were strategizing, Trevor had no idea, but, fuck, if he didn’t love hearing her talk about it.

The night went on, things got rowdier, and then as they do, they got quieter. She was there for the entirety of it, and at some point, they’d slipped into the hot tub.

It was bubbly and warm, and she’d let out an audible sigh when the water first hit her aching back. The tension from days of sitting hunched up by her laptop as she wrote melted away in the water, and it was divine.

Her and Trevor were joined by Jack and his date for the night. Some brunette named Haleigh. “Like, with a y, but… not… with a y. You know?” She’d added when she introduced herself.

After complaining it was too hot, Haleigh without a Y left the hot tub, going inside to get another Mike’s hard lemonade. Jack sat for a second, his head falling into his hand. He let out a deep, deep sigh of exhaustion, before running the same hand over his face and ruffling it through his hair.

“Jack, come be my pong partner!” She exclaimed, briefly hanging her head out the sliding glass doors, before going back inside.

“Guess that’s my cue.” Jack said, pushing himself up and out of the water. They gave him a sympathetic look, but not that sympathetic, knowing he’d probably be fucking her in give or take about 20 minutes.

It left the two of them mostly alone, in their little bubble at least, only surrounded by a few stragglers. They were either out on the dock, by the bonfire in the backyard, or standing up against the wall, caging in whatever unfortunate girl is the victim of a failed attempt at a fuck, and hasn’t figured out her escape route yet.

But she wasn’t paying any attention to them, and neither was Trevor. His attention was fully on her, where her hand nervously had come up to mess with the charm around her neck. He knew the action itself was fairly innocent, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t let his eyes wander further down.

The way the water droplets were resting upon her slightly burnt skin was downright sinful, some of them still sliding down the expanse of her neck. She looked almost like she did in the picture he liked so much from earlier, all the lights illuminating her in all the best ways. And maybe it was just the alcohol, but Trevor thought she looked angelic.

“Y’know,” he began, his fingertips coming up to play with a strand of her hair, “you’re really fuckin’ pretty.”

She blushed, not that he could tell with all the lights, and looked away, trying to hide the expression that began to tug at her features.

“Thanks. You too.” She tossed back, a breathy laugh leaving both of them. His hand went from the strand of hair to her chin, tilting it up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“I mean it.”

“Me too.”

It was an immediate response, because she did. She did mean it. He didn’t just look pretty, he looked fucking unreal. But, she didn’t want to say that. Not yet at least. So she settled for pretty.

They held each other’s gazes, and she’s not sure who moved first, but before she knew it, the water around them was rippling. She was suddenly on his lap, his hands on either hip. Her arms were around his neck, and his lips were on hers.

And despite the fact it was fucking amazing, and the fact that his lips were so soft and so perfect, her mind was still running a million miles a minute.

She pulled away, worried that someone would see the two of them. Why was she worried about that? She didn’t know. But she was programmed to worry, it seemed, about anything and everything.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Trevor asked, looking up at her with those sweet green eyes.

“Nothing, Trev, it was amazing.”

“Then why’d you stop?” He asked, leaning forward and connecting his lips to her neck, somehow immediately finding her sweet spot. He was relentless, and as she struggled to find words, he hummed against her in question. Her breath hitched at the sensation, and she felt him smile against her, his teeth barely nipping at the sensitive skin. She gasped again, her breath shaky.

“But what if someone sees, Trev?” She managed to get out, hanging her head where Trevor’s shoulder met his neck. He paused his attack on her momentarily, his fingertips smoothing over her thighs, moving up to her waist.

“Look at me, Y/n.” He said, his voice firm but without a hint of animosity or anger. So she lifted her head from her place of hiding, looking him in the eyes.

“Baby, they’re all drunk. They don’t give a fuck. Okay?” He said with a reassuring smile, his question more rhetorical than anything. His hands on her waist started to move her back and forth slightly, feeling where his length was growing through his trunks and her tied bottoms.

Her head fell again, a whine leaving her lips. She continued to move, and Trevor brought his lips up to press a kiss to her temple.

“Just focus on me.” He mumbled, followed by a small “Yeah?” To which she nodded. He smiled again, quickly finding her lips and capturing them with his.

When he asked so nicely, how was she supposed to say no?

It was like the only thing that existed anymore, or had ever existed was Trevor.

He infiltrated every one of her senses, despite the fact they normally would’ve been taken up by the scenery around her. She couldn’t smell the shitty alcohol or the smoke from the bonfire, only the barely lingering scent of the cologne he’d applied before he’d started to welcome guests.

She couldn’t see all of the people around her, just the sight of Trevor, wet curls wildly astray, eyes screwed shut as he helped guide her over his cock.

She couldn’t hear that fucking Lil Wayne (and Drake, and Future, and whoever the fuck else) song, or the boisterous laughter of the hockey players, mixed with that of their dates. (Who’re all laughing just a little too hard.)

She just heard the tiny moans and soft praises that fell from Z’s lips. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Was the latest, followed by a groan that she would’ve been worried someone would hear, if not for how enamored she was.

She couldn’t feel the sickly heat in the humid air, or how the water sloshed up against her burnt back, just the slightest bit too hot. She couldn’t feel where the knot keeping her swimsuit tied together was pressing into her skin, or where the grainy feeling of the bench in the hot tub rubbed against her knees. All she could feel was him, his cock pressing against her, his fingertips digging into her, his lips everywhere at once.

And she most definitely couldn’t taste the remnants of the chocolate croissant she’d had for breakfast, or the taste of the tequila shots she’d done with Jamie and Alex. As his tongue lazily danced with her own, it wasn’t any of that that she recognized.

It was the Pink Whitney shot he’d done when the rest were doing tequila, citing that tequila and his stomach didn’t mix. And it was a strange accompaniment, but it was also the leftover tang of the spearmint gum he’d been chewing earlier in the day, stealing a piece from Quinn, who hadn’t offered any to him in the first place. But the strange combination worked, because it was him.

All of it was so much, so Trevor, that it was driving her crazy, but in the best way possible. So when he moved one of his hands from her waist, down to her clothed sex, she almost lost it.

“Trev-“

“You’re good, baby. I’ve got you.”

He ran his thumb over her slit, before sliding his hand down the front of her bottoms, feeling her bare pussy. He wasted no time, easing his two middle fingers into her, stretching her out. The stretch was delicious, and she fully moaned, trying to find any sense that she could to prop herself up entirely on her knees. She palmed him over his pink swim trunks, and he chased the feeling, needily lifting his hips to meet her hand.

She smiled, before mirroring his actions from only a minute ago, her hand easily finding his hardened dick. She ran her thumb over the tip, before she started to jack him off, the water adding resistance as she moved her hand along his length.

But it was all the same to Trevor as he groaned, his hand still pumping in and out of her. His palm perfectly grazed her clit every time he did, and the two of them built up a rhythm as they went. The water around them was moving in waves now, and true to his word from earlier, everyone around them was too drunk to care that they were basically fucking in the hot tub.

As she started to squirm above him, he added a third finger, his glossed over eyes watching in amazement as her mouth went ajar. She clenched down on him, and he could tell she was nearly there. Her hand moved faster in sync with chasing her own peak, Trevor’s doing the same.

“Trev, I’m- fuck! Trevor, I’m close.” She softly cried, her head once again falling back to his shoulder as she rode his hand. He reached his opposite hand forward, groping at her tit, pulling it out of the small triangle of fabric covering it. She moaned at the sensation, and he bit down hard on his lip.

“I know, baby. I’m almost there, too. Shit, you're gonna be good and make me cum, aren’t you? Fuck, yeah. Yeah, you are, baby. Riding my fingers like that. You’re so perfect. So perfect, fuck.

And somehow, they picked up their paces even more, Trevor’s hand slamming into her, while she moved her hand up and down his shaft at a matching speed.

With a cry of his name, and a broken “fuck” from Z, the two came together. Everything went white, and if before everything surrounding her was Trevor, it was like now the two had become one.

She went lax in his arms as they continued to lazily stroke each other, soft kisses pressed to the corner of her mouth by Zeegs.

“You did so good, baby. So fuckin’ sexy riding my hand like that. No idea what you do to me.”

She smiled, tilting her head. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his chest.

“I’ve got a semblance of an idea, I think.” She quipped, and he rolled his eyes. She leaned forward again, pausing briefly to admire his features, before leaning forward and connecting their lips in a sweet kiss.

When they pulled away, she nuzzled against him, all of a sudden aware of the space they were in.

“Y’know, you were right, though.”

“About what?” He asked, leaning down. She smiled as she felt his lips on her head.

“Doesn’t seem like anybody noticed.” She giggled, and he let out a “ha!” shaking his head. She was right, he supposed.

Everyone who was inside had either fallen asleep on the couch, or retired to their rooms, Haleigh without a Y and Jack included. The backyard bunch were still all chatting away, and the guys over by the wall seemed to have accepted their losses, as they now were alone, seemingly fighting off sleep as well.

“Guess not.” He replied, looking down at her. She smiled up at him, tilting her head to give him a kiss. He tried to deepen it, but much like before, she pulled away.

“As lovely as your kisses are, and as worth it that it was, I think we’ve contaminated this hot tub.” She joked, beginning to stand. Trevor frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, and his hand not leaving hers.

She raised her eyebrows, as if to say “I wasn’t done”, and so he beckoned for her to continue.

“But, as I was saying, you’re staying here, right?” He nodded. She smiled, shrugging.

“Then you still have a shower and a bed to contaminate too.”

Trevor grinned, standing up and getting out of the hot tub, pulling her out of the water completely. She shrieked and tugged her knees up, her hand coming to grasp at Z’s forearm. He spun her around twice before setting her down, pulling her to his chest. Trevor Zegras had found his match.

“I like the way you think, lady.”

FIN.

hopefully that was good LOL, btw idk if u’ve ever seen shoresey, but this is reminding me too much of that whole “sanguinet got a squeezer from your sweetie of the side of a party island in wasaga beach, buddy.” LMFAOO iykyk. 

anyway hope u enjoyed, rb if u did! love u, go take an electronics break and hydrate and eat some protein. mwah, bye <3

[mxbeezkneez]

Graveyard Companions

Chapter 2: i'm coming back from the dead, and i'll take you home with me

Link to ao3: x

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injury, Cursing

Fandoms: The Addams Family

Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams/Reader, Gomez Addams/Reader, Morticia Addams/Reader

Tags: Vampire, Vampire Turning, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Blood, Polyamory, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationship, Pre Relationship, Cursing

Summery: “I’m a vampire… a goddamn vampire,” you whisper.You wake up in the living room of a gothic house, and are told you were found unconscious in a graveyard. They claim you are a vampire. As crazy as it is, you can't help but start to trust the couple who found you.

Chapter notes: hi i'm back! i started thinking about the addams family, and well my interest in vampires didn't rlly diminish much... this chapter's pretty long, so i hope you enjoy! i apologize if my french or spanish is bad, i don't speak french, and i only speak a bit of spanish! i actually have like a whole plot n stuff planned, so i'm pretty hyped for this fic! hope u like it! :) (the title is from it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking death wish by my chemical romance)

You wake up to a loud bang, bolting straight up out of bed. “What the hell?”

You rub your eyes before slipping out of bed. The night before feels very far away, almost unreal, but being in this room confirms your memories. You’re staying in the Addams’ house and are… a vampire. You take a slow breath before grabbing new clothing. You find a pair of black pants to match a dark sweater. While near the dresser, you look out of the room’s window. It’s dark outside, the sky a navy blue sprinkled with stars. The graveyard behind the house is illuminated by the moon shining over it.

You leave your room, deciding to try and find the living room once again. You wander through the halls before finding it. Inside you find Wednesday, the small girl, playing with a younger blond boy. She’s talking to him while holding a headless doll in her arms. You walk farther into the room, stepping on a squeaky board, alerting the children of your presence.

They both turn their heads to stare at you. You nervously chuckle.

Wednesday points at you, “That’s (y/n),” she tells the boy, “I heard father say they’re a vampire.”

“Wow really?” the boy exclaims, “Is it true? Do you drink blood?”

“Um,” you stammer, “Well, I am a vampire, but I haven’t been one very long so- no I haven’t drank any blood. Uh… what’s your name again?”

“I’m Pugsley,” he reaches over and offers his hand.

You shake it, “Well, nice to meet you Pugsley. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re playing the French Revolution,” Wednesday answers flatly.

You chuckle, “Huh. I mean I guess it was an exciting time. Who’s your doll there?” you point to the headless doll in her hands. To be honest, the beheaded doll was very unnerving, but the children themselves seemed nice enough, so you push your nerves to the side.

“Marie Antoinette” she says matter of factly.

“Oh,” you pause, “Explains the lack of head I guess.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to exit the conversation. “Do either of you know where your parents are?” you ask.

“I saw them in the dining room earlier. Uncle Fester was there, but I think he went upstairs to play with his dynomite caps,” Pugsley replies. Uncle Fester? Dynomite caps? There’s too much to unpack there, so instead you decide to find Gomez and Morticia.

“Okay, thanks.”

You head out the door, realizing you have no idea where the dining room is. You go to turn back, but the children are playing animatedly and you don’t want to interrupt, so instead you look for it yourself.

You find the dining room, and sure enough, Gomez and Mortica are seated next to each other at a long table. You walk over and take a seat near them.

“(Y/n)! How’d you sleep?” Gomez greets you.

“Like the dead,” you say flatly. A second later what you’ve said hits you and you blink slowly, “I mean, I slept well, thanks.”

“You did seem rather tired last night,” Morticia remarks, “I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Wait, did I sleep through an entire day?” you ask.

“Yes, though we did tell Lurch not to disturb you,” she answers, “We thought you needed the sleep. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” you take a moment to survey yourself, “I feel okay. I think if anything I feel a little hungry.”

“We can get that squared away! Mama makes the best yak stew.” Gomez springs from his chair and over to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Remembering last night, you brace for a loud noise. Sure enough, once he pulls it, the house shakes as the ringing travels through the house.

“You rang,” Lurch grumbles.

“Yes Lurch, a bowl of yak stew for our guest!” Lurch groans and exits.

“Thank you,” you tell them, “You’ve both been very hospitable, I’m thankful you were the ones that found me.” You feel sincerity in that statement, you were not only grateful for their help, but another part of you has some feeling when you’re near them. You’re not sure what the feeling is, though you can confidently say you didn’t mind the couple, or hell, the weird household in general. Even if it is kooky, you can’t say you’re not charmed by their life.

Lurch comes back with a silver platter that he sets on the table. On it is a bowl of stew that he places in front of you.

“Thanks,” you say, before grabbing the spoon and looking back at the meal. Lurch takes his leave. You’re unsure about eating yak, but you are also hungry and the stew looks fairly appetizing. You take a scoop and put it in your mouth, surprised not only by the flavor of the soup, but also the feeling of chewing. It’s like you can feel your canines rip through the meat faster than before. In the time where you’ve been thinking, it’s completely slipped your mind that you probably have fangs now. That you’ve changed.

“This is- this is actually really good,” you remark.

“I told you, Mama is a culinary genius! Nothing beats her yak stew!” Gomez gleams.

You smile at Gomez. Something about him just makes you want to smile in a soft admission of admiration.

You turn your attention back to the stew, eating it quickly until there is nothing left.

“I’m glad you enjoyed Mama’s cooking,” Morticia smiles, “I’ll have to tell her you enjoyed it. It’s not very often she gets to feed guests.”

“It is very odd, usually most people never come back after eating her food… I can’t imagine why…” Gomez says with a puzzled expression on his face. You chuckle. You notice that you find yourself enjoying the Addams’ company immensely. A part of you feels sad that you will eventually have to leave.

“Ah, c'est la vie (that’s life) ,” Morticia remarks.

“Tish!” Gomez’s head swivels quickly to face her, “That’s French!” he exclaims, grabbing her arm. He begins to kiss it, from her hand to her shoulder, though is interrupted by Morticia, “Darling. We have company. Later,” she says with a sly grin. Gomez raises his head to meet her eyes, a dazed look on his face. “Later.” he remarks, before finding himself back in his seat, “So, Hester, any plans for the night?” he asks casually.

“Um…” you stutter, flustered by the show of passion from the man sitting across from you, “I- I don’t really know… I mean, I’m a vampire now so- does that mean I have to act like one too? I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t really know what to do,” you admit, staring at your hands. You look up towards Morticia, “Didn’t you mention you’ve known vampires before? Could you maybe help me?”

“Of course, darling.” Morticia says, “Why don’t we talk in the living room? If you’re alright with it, the children would enjoy listening, they are curious creatures.”

“Yeah, that’s alright. They asked me a question or two when I ran into them earlier. I don’t blame them for being curious,”

“Pugsley’s been very interested in nonhuman creatures lately, ever since that run in with that werewolf he’s been wanting to know more. Wednesday’s been teaching him some things, she’s always had a firm grasp on certain folklore!” Gomez said proudly.

The three of you walked to the living room and sat down, them on the couch, and you in a chair facing them. The children were still in the room, sitting on the floor. You fidget with your hands nervously. “So, do I have superpowers or anything now?” you half-heartedly joke.

“Vampires have very fast healing capabilities,” Wednesday states, “They are very difficult to kill, they must be stabbed with a stake to the heart or decapitated.”

“Very good Wednesday,” Morticia smiles.

“Huh,” you respond, “Alright, that’s not too bad.”

“There are certain weaknesses that should be mentioned, such as sunlight, garlic, crucifixes and running water.” Morticia adds.

“Wait I can’t eat garlic anymore?” you ask, “That kinda sucks, huh.”

“Well technically you can eat anything if you try hard enough,” Gomez says offhandedly.

Morticia cocks an eyebrow at him and sighs, “It’s not so much deadly, it’s more like a food allergy.”

“So I can still eat things with garlic in it?” you double check.

“As long as you aren’t a coward!” Gomez says enthusiastically.

You let out a laugh at Gomez. Wednesday is rolling her eyes, though Morticia just keeps looking at him lovingly. For a moment you forget about the obvious question hanging in the air.

“So…” you start, “I have to drink blood now?” you ask nervously.

“Yes, all vampires must ingest blood to keep themselves alive,” Morticia says, “You’ve got to be hungry by now I imagine,”

“Yeah… but I just ate.” you reply.

“You can still eat food, it just will never fill you. In order not to starve you have to drink blood.” she explains.

You look down at your shaking hands. Everything before now had felt unreal, but this? The seriousness in her voice is making everything too real for you. How could you possibly do that to someone?

“I- I don’t know if I can do that…” you voice shakes, “I mean- how… how could I?”

“Children,” Morticia addresses them, “Why don’t you go play with Uncle Fester while we talk with Hester.”

“Awwww, do we have to?” Pugsley complains.

“A vampire’s eating habits are quite personal Pugsley. I’m afraid so.”

“Alright,” he sighs and follows Wednesday out of the room.

“If you need help procuring someone, you just have to ask. Gomez and I would of course be willing to provide.”

“Provide…?”

“Bodies of course.” Gomez affirms.

“Human bodies,” you repeat, your mind reeling. You had noticed the family was quite odd, even creepy at times, but what they were offering? It sounded too close to murder. You suddenly become very aware of where you are: in a strange house with strangers. Your hands become clammy.

“Is everything alright darling?” you hear Morticia ask. Your throat swells up. You try to force words out, but nothing will leave you lips, leaving you in what is now panic. Finally something spills out, “You can’t kill people for me! You- you can’t!” you sputter out.

“Kill people?” Gomez repeats, “Why we’d bring them alive of course.”

You let out a breath, “Okay, alive. I mean- I just still don’t think I can…”

“Well I suppose there is another option,” Gomez adds.

“What? What is it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Animal blood! It doesn’t work as well, but it’ll do in a pinch.” he explains.

You perk up, “I can do that. That works.” you feel relief.

“Should we make some arrangements? The children could fetch some for tonight.” Morticia asks.

“You have been so kind, really. I would appreciate it, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on leaving, I’ve been here long enough.”

“It’s been our pleasure,” Gomez responds, lighting a cigar, “It’s been so long since we’ve had guests.

“Well you certainly are great hosts,” you smile. Despite your situation, you’ve found yourself fairly comfortable here.

“Thank you,” Morticia says, “Now, we ought to ring for Lurch to get some blood. I’m sure the children would love to accompany him.” As she reaches for the bell, you ready yourself for the loud ring. Lurch walks in, “You rang?”

“Yes Lurch, could you gather the children and find some animal blood for our guest here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Addams,” he drawls. He leaves the room in search of the children. A quiet silence falls over the room. Deciding to strike up conversation, you pipe up a question, “So, when did you two meet?”

“Oh, on the best day of my life,” Gomez grins proudly,

“We met at a funeral,” Mortica explains, “It was a lovely day. Grey clouds filled the sky, thunder rolling in the distance.”

“Oh cara mia, I remember it like it was yesterday, our eyes meeting over the coffin,” Gomez starts, “I swear the whole funeral party had to be half as enchanted with you as I had been.” You notice the two of them becoming more enveloped in their memories of each other. You can’t help but smile at how truly in love they are, even if that love meant that you would sit there awkwardly wondering if they were going to just make out in front of you.

“Oh mon cher, you are as charming as you were back then.”

Gomez’s eyes dart up, “Tish! That’s French!” He grabs her arm and starts kissing it.

“Gomez darling,” she warns, “Later.”

He looks up dazed, “Oh yes, our guest. Where were we?” he asks.

“I think you’ve answered my question,” you smile awkwardly.

“Do you have anyone special back home?” Morticia asks politely.

“Well…” you begin to explain“There is this one guy, my roomate, I guess… but I don’t think he likes me like that.” you explain.

“Tiene que estar loco si no le gusta, eres muy guapo. (He must be crazy if he doesn’t like you, you are very handsome.) ” Gomez comments under his breath. You feel your face heat up. He must not know you speak Spanish, judging by how offhandedly he said it. You look over to Morticia who nods ever so slightly, making you even more flustered.

“Uh… gracias, pero… sabes que hablo Español, sí? (Uh… thank you, but… you know I can speak Spanish, yes?) ” you ask. Gomez’s hand, which was placed on Morticia’s knee, now grips it somewhat tightly. Morticia looks over to him in curiosity. His face seems flushed.

“¿Comprendes lo que yo digo? (You understand what I’m saying?) ” he asks tentatively.

“Sí, aprendí a hablar en Español en la escuela. (Yes, I learned to speak in Spanish in school.) ”

“Oh,” a breath leaves his mouth. His eyes keep darting back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do. You can tell his weight has registered onto the balls of his chair like he is about to leap off his seat, but something is keeping him grounded. You look back at Morticia, who seems about as intrigued as you. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone sat on edge.

Breaking the awkward scene, Lurch walks in with heavy footsteps holding a platter, “Your blood.”

He sets the platter down on the table, removing the lid. On the platter is a wine glass with a dark red liquid in it. As soon as you see the glass you can smell it, the blood. Rather than smelling rancid, the metallic scent smelled like everything you could ever want. You quickly grab the glass with both hands and hold it up to your lips, gulping down the liquid. The taste of it floods your mouth, though some of it dribbles down to your chin as you frantically consume it. You drink the last drop and set down the glass, looking up.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You wipe off your chin with the back of your sleeve. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Morticia affirms, “You’ve just been turned, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without blood… well I guess there was last night.” You wince at the mention of that encounter. Trying to change the subject, you ask, “What happens if I can’t get blood?”

“Well, either you go to any length to get it out of pure hunger, or if you don’t, you die,” Morticia explains, “So it’s best you feed regularly.”

“So is that why I…” you try to think of a way to phrase it, “Why I don’t feel much restraint when I see blood?”

“Yes, though you’ll get more constraint as it goes on.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not keeping you up, am I? It has to be pretty late. I mean, I guess I’m already a night owl, so this isn’t too unusual for me, but you two probably should sleep, right?” you ask.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to get some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow if you plan on leaving, we can help you get back?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great. And of course, go get some sleep. I’ll just hang out for a bit.” you say, putting on a small smile.

“Alright, good night then,” Mortica says.

“Goodnight Hester.” Gomez says.

“Goodnight.”

You stay in the living room much longer after they leave, lost in your thoughts. The weight of your new life- or death has started to sink in. Your mind drifts to drinking the blood earlier. The feeling of it had been great, though immediately after your chest felt heavy. You don’t suppose it has anything to do with your newfound changes. No, instead you recognize the feeling as the weight of your guilt.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of creature feeds off the life force of others. You try to reason with yourself by saying it’s like eating animals, yet you can’t accept the notion. This had felt different. Looking back to having Morticia’s blood makes your face flush, but you can’t also help but notice the difference from tonight. While the animal blood was good, and mostly filling, Morticia’s blood, human blood, brought a type of euphoria.

You didn’t need Morticia to spell it out for you. Using animal blood works as a substitute, but you know deep down you are now meant to feed on humans. The realization hits you as you think that. You are no longer human. On this thought your heart aches. What does this make you. Confused? Scared? Yes, those both applied. You feel lost.

You feel anxious thinking about going home tomorrow. Going home means it’s real. It means you have to face your roommate who you’re in love with and somehow not let him know you’re a vampire. You let out a huff. God, how are you supposed to do this? You take a small amount of solace knowing you have the Addam’s help. You’re glad they’ll help you get back home, you don’t think you could do it alone. You know even if you never speak to them again, their impact will be left on you forever.

You get up off the couch, deciding to go to sleep. You trudge to your room and plop onto the bed with a sigh. Eventually you drift off to sleep.

[kneipho]

Sumbitted by: @mantrabay​

Ballroom In The Sky.

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild weeps.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard.

Two years later and her memory still lingers.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Velvet Heart was Geoff’s courtship name for Violet.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from their elegant townhouse?

Death through misadventure was the colourful term used.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet actually said.

Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away. .An endless see-saw of creepy dawning’s convulsed him.

Yet Wild fondly recalled when they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn whose allure was its availability.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles.

The ripples of long dark hair, her apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura..

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants, whilst sporting satin moccasins.

“Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following..

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were.

They were mirror images of each other.

Even in speech and humour.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area.

She used to refer to songs as role plays.

“You feel as though you are a member of the audience.” Valerie remarked.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but not otherwise or so it seemed.

It was amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks, abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon.

Valerie’s top sideman….well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He had a track record of sorts.

Sam’s blue attire was appropriate.

He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the impish grin.

“Yep ..Yup….or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen for the most part.

He was accident prone.

Valerie had to indicate where things were. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted facial squirms.

One wondered if there was a deeper relationship between them.

Those Blue Skies airs were fillers without Sam.

Every time “Ballroom In The Sky” was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret.

The startled looks were part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild recalled now.

“Valerie could croon in a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers.”

Geoff whispers in the graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM………..STILL SO VIVID…….DANCING IN HEAVEN…… KISSES ALL AROUND….MAGIC HAND……..A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Geoff and Violet would swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think……A jigsaw puzzle.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended.”

Geoff again.

They were fugitives.

Escapees from that heavy-handed dole queue void.

Suddenly something happened.

“What the heavens is? Snap….a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens?”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory late evening sun shaft.

Wild could no longer hide from Valerie and Velvet Heart’s identities.

“Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam would do his usual u-turn into the shadow.

Two months before Geoff’s and Violet’s parting, an incident occurred.

Memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed into each other.

Valerie and Velvet Heart were magnets for men.

Violet caught Geoff off guard.

“Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?”

Those penetrating peepers of Violet knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no …..not at all.” Geoff with a looping

smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like…. a new dawn.” Wild poetically.

“You honey tongue you. Geoff our song. Ballroom.” Violet mutters.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone almost identical to Velvet Heart.

Sam didn’t always act immediately.

“Yep.. Yup …Sure.” Sam’s stock retort.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever cast its bewitching spell throughout the venue.

A medley was included tonight.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage.

A dim-lit silence ensued.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled this dancehall.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage with Geoff in toe.

Valerie handed Violet a letter.

Sam was now talking tersely to Valerie.

A misted over photo gallery memory blur in place.

“Pst…Pst. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can’t phantom…..fathom.” Geoff shudders.

Violet’s voice a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

We know Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film along with Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Violet recounts.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success but did get our area limited publicity.

Sam earned extra royalties from the soundtrack.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind a

on occasions or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

The tease in Violet surfacing..

Geoff was thunderstruck.

Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song.”

Violet stated.

“May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay photograph and short story copyright protected.

Thanks for reading my works

.

[appleflavoredkitkats]

(to the anon who made the mama mary post)

YO ISTG SO MANY RUMORS LIKE THAT WERE SPREAD AROUND MY SCHOOL

theres another story i remember that i wanna share (not mama mary related)

there's a house in my school where im pretty sure the nuns or janitors live in and everyone would say it was a haunted house. the design was creepy + we almost saw no one go in our out

one day me and my friends decided to check it out and when we were at the front door, (which is always open) there was a sign that said "welcome to the haunted house" LMFAOOOOOOO

idk why my grade 3 self believed that it was actually haunted😭😭

another one is that my school used to be a graveyard/was built on a graveyard. i feel like this is one of the most used lines in horror school stories💀💀

anyway, my classmates would say that cause they said they heard some weird noises in the bathroom stalls. another one of my classmates would say that the chairs slightly moved when no one was near it

(suicide tw)

last one but there was also rumored to be a girl who offed her self in the bathroom and that if you use that specific stall, she'll appear to you

ive actually used the said "stall" and nothing happned😭 i just almost accidently slipped

thats all, sorry if some things are worded weirdly, i have a hard time wording things:<

(ps if u know thses tstories dont say the school name ty)

honestly, a lot of the stories are very similar to mine so it's pretty difficult to assume what school is which, dw! + u didn't word any of these weirdly, i understood completely!!

but holy shit my school also had a place specifically for nuns. we called it the convent - it's only accessible to workers and students, but not visitors unless asked by the nuns themselves. my friends have been there a lot of times just to take nice photos, but it is so deserted. i've been there a lot because it h as a secret garden type beat, but it's like. very, very empty of people. the last thing i remembered was someone washing the dresses of the nuns, but that's pretty much it.

a story i heard in grade 4 was that there's this washroom at the end of the IT (information technology) building hallway that's haunted. it's honestly built like a horror movie setup - long hallway, rooms aside that are rarely used, and a dark, empty bathroom at the end. they've revamped it and i've used it multiple times then (since it's next to the computer labs) but before it, i didn't. my classmate in grade 4 claimed that she never goes to the bathroom alone because last time she went, she saw and heard a pair of legs walking across the room, but when she went out of the stall, there was no one there.

[mantrabay]

Ballroom In The Sky.

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild weeps.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard.

Two years later and her memory still lingers.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Velvet Heart was Geoff’s courtship name for Violet.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from their elegant townhouse?

Death through misadventure was the colourful term used.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet actually said.

Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away. .An endless see-saw of creepy dawning’s convulsed him.

Yet Wild fondly recalled when they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn whose allure was its availability.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles.

The ripples of long dark hair, her apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura..

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants, whilst sporting satin moccasins.

“Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following..

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were.

They were mirror images of each other.

Even in speech and humour.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area.

She used to refer to songs as role plays.

“You feel as though you are a member of the audience.” Valerie remarked.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but not otherwise or so it seemed.

It was amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks, abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon.

Valerie’s top sideman....well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He had a track record of sorts.

Sam’s blue attire was appropriate.

He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the impish grin.

“Yep ..Yup....or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen for the most part.

He was accident prone.

Valerie had to indicate where things were. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted facial squirms.

One wondered if there was a deeper relationship between them.

Those Blue Skies airs were fillers without Sam.

Every time “Ballroom In The Sky” was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret.

The startled looks were part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild recalled now.

“Valerie could croon in a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers.”

Geoff whispers in the graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM...........STILL SO VIVID.......DANCING IN HEAVEN...... KISSES ALL AROUND....MAGIC HAND........A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Geoff and Violet would swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think…...A jigsaw puzzle.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended.”

Geoff again.

They were fugitives.

Escapees from that heavy-handed dole queue void.

Suddenly something happened.

“What the heavens is? Snap….a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens?”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory late evening sun shaft.

Wild could no longer hide from Valerie and Velvet Heart’s identities.

“Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam would do his usual u-turn into the shadow.

Two months before Geoff's and Violet’s parting, an incident occurred.

Memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed into each other.

Valerie and Velvet Heart were magnets for men.

Violet caught Geoff off guard.

“Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?”

Those penetrating peepers of Violet knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no .....not at all.” Geoff with a looping

smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like.... a new dawn.” Wild poetically.

“You honey tongue you. Geoff our song. Ballroom.” Violet mutters.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone almost identical to Velvet Heart.

Sam didn’t always act immediately.

“Yep.. Yup ...Sure.” Sam’s stock retort.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever cast its bewitching spell throughout the venue.

A medley was included tonight.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage.

A dim-lit silence ensued.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled this dancehall.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage with Geoff in toe.

Valerie handed Violet a letter.

Sam was now talking tersely to Valerie.

A misted over photo gallery memory blur in place.

“Pst...Pst. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can't phantom…..fathom.” Geoff shudders.

Violet’s voice a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

We know Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film along with Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Violet recounts.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success but did get our area limited publicity.

Sam earned extra royalties from the soundtrack.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind a

on occasions or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

The tease in Violet surfacing..

Geoff was thunderstruck.

Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song.”

Violet stated.

“May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

Photograph and short story by mantrabay copyright protected

.

[creedatelier]

Ballroom In The Sky.

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild weeps.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard.

Two years later and her memory still lingers.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Velvet Heart was Geoff’s courtship name for Violet.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from their elegant townhouse?

Death through misadventure was the colourful term used.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet actually said.

Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away. .An endless see-saw of creepy dawning’s convulsed him.

Yet Wild fondly recalled when they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn whose allure was its availability.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles.

The ripples of long dark hair, her apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura..

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants, whilst sporting satin moccasins.

“Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following..

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were.

They were mirror images of each other.

Even in speech and humour.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area.

She used to refer to songs as role plays.

“You feel as though you are a member of the audience.” Valerie remarked.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but not otherwise or so it seemed.

It was amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks, abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon.

Valerie’s top sideman....well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He had a track record of sorts.

Sam’s blue attire was appropriate.

He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the impish grin.

“Yep ..Yup....or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen for the most part.

He was accident prone.

Valerie had to indicate where things were. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted facial squirms.

One wondered if there was a deeper relationship between them.

Those Blue Skies airs were fillers without Sam.

Every time “Ballroom In The Sky” was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret.

The startled looks were part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild recalled now.

“Valerie could croon in a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers.”

Geoff whispers in the graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM...........STILL SO VIVID.......DANCING IN HEAVEN...... KISSES ALL AROUND....MAGIC HAND........A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Geoff and Violet would swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think…...A jigsaw puzzle.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended.”

Geoff again.

They were fugitives.

Escapees from that heavy-handed dole queue void.

Suddenly something happened.

“What the heavens is? Snap….a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens?”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory late evening sun shaft.

Wild could no longer hide from Valerie and Velvet Heart’s identities.

“Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam would do his usual u-turn into the shadow.

Two months before Geoff's and Violet’s parting, an incident occurred.

Memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed into each other.

Valerie and Velvet Heart were magnets for men.

Violet caught Geoff off guard.

“Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?”

Those penetrating peepers of Violet knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no .....not at all.” Geoff with a looping

smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like.... a new dawn.” Wild poetically.

“You honey tongue you. Geoff our song. Ballroom.” Violet mutters.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone almost identical to Velvet Heart.

Sam didn’t always act immediately.

“Yep.. Yup ...Sure.” Sam’s stock retort.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever cast its bewitching spell throughout the venue.

A medley was included tonight.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage.

A dim-lit silence ensued.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled this dancehall.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage with Geoff in toe.

Valerie handed Violet a letter.

Sam was now talking tersely to Valerie.

A misted over photo gallery memory blur in place.

“Pst...Pst. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can't phantom…..fathom.” Geoff shudders.

Violet’s voice a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

We know Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film along with Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Violet recounts.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success but did get our area limited publicity.

Sam earned extra royalties from the soundtrack.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind a

on occasions or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

The tease in Violet surfacing..

Geoff was thunderstruck.

Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song.”

Violet stated.

“May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay Photograph and Prose Poem Copyright Protected

#creedatelier #blog@creedatelier

.

[davidjjohnston3]

I ask again that you not share the Tumblr with MVJ as he uses all knowledge of me against me or to imitate / try to be me rather than MVJ. I ask the same w/r/t MJ / Michael, as he resents me for various reasons to do with manipulation-leadership (such as telling him in '09 that I felt that I was going to be a doctor someday in order to hearten / give him morale when he was anguished over job-searching in the Great Recession).   I do things like this because of a film called "Late Spring" a masterpiece by the Japanese director who inspired the Taiwanese auteur about whom I wrote my RU senior thesis and met Rebecca Hu who inspired me to work hard, get that Singapore job, meet Kate again in '07 in NYC, promise her in '08 I would struggle / fight / work for 3 years to become someone deserving of her (hand in marriage if not just friendship), which is also part of why I made that '08-09 deal with Dad that culminated in me going to MTTP in Madison, meeting Chi Hye, falling in love with this gold light in her eyes, believing in angels and mountains and "They shall mount up as eagles and not stub their toe" (Isaiah), meeting Josephine Park at 7-Step and everyone else, getting promoted to Head Developer in 6 months, then quitting b/c of a falling out I had on that night I called you after 6 months' radio silence. IDK if you want to hear this but I wanted to marry Josephine / "LitGirl."  I thanked her for helping me.  IDK if you care about this she flirted with me partly by showing armpit-stubble in the summer of 2010 and I understood this because I understand "Korean American literature." She might be the most beautiful perfect ideal "jeongdakhan" (kind of 'suitable,,' or, 'spec') woman I ever met.  She went to Seoul National U. which is Korea's no.1 university and worked for an elite newspaper before taking some time off to write - she loves Emily Dickinson and, I believe, Park Wanseo, who wrote my favorite Korean short story "That Girl's House" about a promised couple in Japanese-occupied Korea who are separated by the girl's father's paranoia about Gop Dan's becoming a comfort woman and sold to be a farmer's bride in what becomes North Korea rather than marrying the "village prince" or aspiring scholar, who wants her to come away with him to Seoul... Josephine or "Jeongeun" (which kind of means perhaps "emotion-grace" or arguably "central grace" - Josephine means "love will increase" BTW and is the name of Jo from Little Women; the name she chose for herself) looks a bit like Lee Yowon the aspiring girl who gets plastic surgery in "Take Care of My Cat" and a bit like Seo Juhyun / Catherine Seo / Seohyun the youngest member of Girls Generation who was known for her probity, "Holy Seohyun" who was no. 2 in her HS before becoming the "maknae" or "final inner" / youngest and most beloved member of the nation's best-ever girl-group.  FWIW, I used to write to Seohyun on Twitter as well but she never replied. ��On around the time of the sinking of the MV Sewol she wrote "we cried till our eyes dried" or so and used the word "huisaeng" to describe the victims which actually can mean "sacrifice."  I wrote to Seohyun using a quote from Dante Alighieri about beauty and pure thoughts or pure minds since I read "New Life / Vita Nuova" and "Heaven / Paradiso" in KR.  "Catherine" incidentally means "purity" as well. 2. On that night I first called you in 2011 I was out at a place with JEP and when I got back from our long phonecall she proceeded to get really drunk with foreigners I disliked from a hagwon I dislike throwing back soju and ultimately writing on the ladies' room floor throwing up.  Danny Shin asked me to go in to the BR to comfort / talk with her so I did.  I told her we should leave even before she got really drunk but she wouldn't obey me.  KJ Park arrived and said "ireona" (get up bitch) and she did.  I cursed in front of KJ Park since I felt I was being used as her crying-blankie and exploited to help her cope but never extricate from the situation.  I later had a slight heart-attack when I found out they were having an affair even as JE flirted with other men and used them I see now as "honey-trap" and to spy on all the employees.   I feel like this is the last time I will try to communicate open with you about why I am the way I am why I do what I do.  Back in 2008 you told me to use more kindness but where does that go?  It's good for little kids. Anyway before my heart-attack on that night - which impelled me to stop participating for a while in good faith with 7-Step's accelerated curriculum program working on Saturdays (which I had done happily before that) - I had been incredibly optimistic and at the same time "wise" in the "soi sage" sense reading Flaubert's last completed novel, which you might like one day, "L'Education Sentimentale" (accurately translated as "Emotional Education" since "Sentiment" sounds Victorian and sentimentality is an Anglo or Anglo-Korean category, saccharine in a way which French love and emotion are not).   I also later visited Cheonan her hometown which means "Heaven's Peace."  I walked around and years later wanted to write a novel called "Cheonan Sky" which is about the sinking of a ROKN frigate / destroyer / corvette called the ROKS Cheonan in 2010 but a North Korean suicide micro-submarine. The captain of the ROKS Cheonan never retired basically but became a military analyst for I believe either KJAD or 38North out of entailments or legacy-obligations to his men. The theme of "Cheonan Sky" is family killing family (the Korean War / civil war in general within a nation), terrorism, capital punishment by electrocution.  The ending is that the hero committed acts of 1st degree murder and terrorism and is dressed by his wife for execution after donating semen / sperm so she can have a child after his death. You might or might not be interested to know but "Cheonan" in Chinese characters is I believe "Tian'an'" like Tiananmen Square.   When I asked Josephine to teach me some Korean she said "Miryang" which means "secret sunshine" that is actually the name of a city as well a movie but known for the gang-rape of an elementary school girl.   3. This is kind of why I'm interested in terrorism, assassination, North Korean Studies, and also why I didn't know how to read people's sign about "covering love," concealing or forgiving crimes et cetera; covering sins.   I associate JEP for some reason with Russian blues and mother-of-pearl since I looked at a wedding ring which was mother-of-pearl and diamond in 2011.  In retrospect I have no idea whether she was interested in me or not or how willing she would have been to partner with me as opposed to KJ or Danny Shin or anyone else.  I won't say anything more because I don't oppose women being that way 100% although the Book of Proverbs does say not to prostitute your daughter and a British Victorian Evangelical PM used to walk the streets of London pleading with hookers to get honest if low-paying jobs (WE Gladstone who also said politics succeeds ultimately through "not love of power but power of love" a saying I associate these days with Mike Pompeo) I have come close to imprisonment and/or death lately from trying to be open w/ people in America so this is literally I ardently wish my last freebie w/r/t "teaching" people but the existence of people like Josephine also seems to bind me to SK or KR.  There is simply no way I can not go back someday.  When that ferry sank I saw an article about a foreigner graveyard in Incheon and felt what Shakespeare felt near the end of his life which was a desire beyond or parallel to after life to donate his bones to a certain plot of land.  I foolishly or heedlessly confessed this reality to Mi who became depressed and my words started to go over his head. IDK if you want to know this but I worked for a long time on a novel about the MV Sewol called "Flowers on Water" or "Flowers 1881" which is about the sovereignty of God in the deaths or waste of children as well as "It Is Well with My Soul," Chancellor / Pastor John Piper, the drowning of paedophiles in prison or others who abuse or exploit young people, and my own responsibility for failing as an HS teacher. IDK if you remember but the guy who owned the MV Sewol which sank due to unlawful loading of the hull with equipment was found decapitated with a backpack full of money in a field of maize, I believe.   There are those who believe including me that KR is not really a democracy but run by the KCIA or and/or through an organization called "One Company" or so that includes numerous military dictators, officers, many of whom used to be teachers though some were also associated with the terrorist-student radical organization (the ShiShi) that produced the Meiji Restoration and the Empire of Japan -> WW2 Pacific since the Japanese were determined not to let American "gunboat diplomacy" lead to cultural genocide or everlasting hegemony of the West over either JP or the total Far East. My last thing to you is just that there are those who believe the imperial family of JP who were restored to supremacy in gov't by the ShiShi after centuries of formalistic ritualitsic formalistic ceremonial "Chinese" rule are partly Korean in blood and Koreans themselves believe in "Minjung Theology" saying Koreans have a holy destiny worldwide which is something I believe as well. You can be 10,000% honest with me about your intentions from now on BTW.  IDK if I can get back to KR now, a year from now, or in a coffin.   It depends on money I guess.   As I reflected in my previous e-mail after my born again prayer in 2004 when I wished for unity (in the field across the street from Marshall School) I eventually got that unity around 2012 when Dad said he would work sacrificially to fix me up following my suicide-attempt and in 2013 when I told Jaeyoung that I wanted to be a principal I precipitated or incubated a process leading up to the Lead Teacher position I was offered a few months back as well as Concordia's interest in my application for their Educational Leadership doctorate.   If you want to read one more book by a Korean I urge "The Fourth Dimension" by Rev. Dr. David YongGi Cho, the pastor of a church called Yoido or Yeouido Full Gospel which claims some 500,000 members though Dr. Cho has been indicted for embezzlement and there are those who would doubt his belief in miracle faith-healing or in God's defending people from things like head-first suicide-attempts. As my student once said to me, "Thank you for everything" DJJ PS again if you like music I rec. "Marvel Not That Christ in Glory" - "Christ in p/POWER Resurrection / calling many sons to glory" - as well as a pop-song called "Please Remember Me" by a girl-group known as Year 7 Class 1 or 7-1. It is a slow ballad but the central refrain is "yaksokhae uri... kkok mannayo..." (Let us promise to meet again rapidly / immediately)...

[ecotone99]

[MS] The Broken Man

The man who lived down the street, just six houses from us always wore a disappointed look on his face, halloween trick or treating was never fun as he always used to make us run off w/o as much as a dumb raisin. The neighbourhood kids hated him for that very reason, and I was no exception. I wondered often, what could he possibly own that made him so arrogant, so proud, so much so that even socialising with kids was beneath him? As I grew up, it turned out that adults were no exception either. This once I recall, all the adults of the society were to gather around for a meeting to review the rules and regulations of the society, everyone but the man who went by the name of Mr Steadler was in attendance. Noticing his absence, a triplet of the committee members was sent to his house to inquire why couldn't make it to the meet. Being the socialising wizard he was, he wasted no time in belittling the very existence of the committee and the clinginess of the members to get to his house uninvited, invading his personal space, and not letting him be.I remember asking my mom about Mr Steadler and why he was always in such a bad mood, and why he never talked to anyone, adult or child. To my disappointment, my mother had no answer either. It turned out, nobody in the neighbourhood knew anything about Mr Steadler apart from his address, his limping walk, and his charming personality. Being as curious as I was, I made it my mission to unravel the mystery that was Mr Steadler. I began by noticing Mr Steadler's routine for a week. Everyday he used to leave his house at 9 A.M. and return at 11 P.M. He never broke this pattern. At most he deviated for an hour or so but that could have very easily been the traffic holding him up. I also noted that between him leaving the house in the morning and entering it in the night, he never had so much as a grin on his face. I began to wonder if this guy ever really had a good day. He looked like he was about 45, maybe 46 years old, which made this even a sadder mystery to solve, to track the daily routine of a 46 year old man who never experienced a single day of happiness? It was getting depressing, even for a 15 year old. But I wasn't ready to give up just yet, I concluded that if I want to get to the bottom of this, I need to follow Mr Steadler around to know more about him. And so, upon the brink of Sunrise one Monday morning, my journey to become local detective had begun.I woke up early, freshened up quickly and waited anxiously on my bike for Mr Steadler to make a move on with his day. My parents weren't being very supportive of my actions, but like all heroes I knew that if I were to make it, I had to let go of them one day or the other.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mr Steadler came out, locked the door behind him and drove off to wherever he used to drive off to. I followed him, maintaining quite a distance from him. With my helmet on, I was pretty sure it would be difficult for him to recognise me from this distance. I followed him to a mansion located just outside the city. It took us about 4 hours to reach there. Mr Steadler stepped out of his car and went inside the mansion while I stayed behind and set myself up at a nice vantage point with my pair of binoculars to give me a good view of what's happening inside the mansion through its windows. For the next 3 hours what I saw can only be called comedy in its truest form. I saw him cleaning the mansion from top to bottom while a guard kept poking him with a stick, saw him dance for, I'm assuming, the resident kids, saw him getting yelled at by possibly the owner of the mansion while he was on his knees. This was all too funny to miss. But then he did a very peculiar thing just before he left, he went to the adjacent garden, stood there for about 5 minutes and did the most abnormal thing he could possibly do - He smiled. Once he was done making a fool of himself, he got in his car and went off. I assumed we're off to our home and so I got on my bike and followed him from the same distance as before. But I was wrong. He made a turn I didn't recognise. I kept following him for another 90 minutes until we reached a graveyard. This took a dark turn real quick for me. I thought maybe Mr Steadler had spot me and now to protect his image he would take care of me here in the graveyard and dispose off my body in one of the graves. All sorts of horrible thoughts were circling in my head now, how he could use a stick, a hammer, or a jack to knock him unconscious, maybe rape me before killing me whole and then leave my naked body in a hole to rot for eternity? I wanted to run away but then I noticed him getting out of the car, standing at the gate of the cemetery and start crying. He wasn't here to kill me, he was here to grieve. But for whom?As he went inside, I closed in the distance so as to come within earshot of what he was about to say. I finally understood the importance of gravestones at that very moment. He went near a grave which I couldn't make out clearly of whom it belonged to, but I didn't care, all I wanted to do was listen. And so I did. What I heard next brought tears to my eyes. "Hey momma, I'm back. It's been 2530 days since you left. I know I say it every time I come here but I just don't know how to begin talking to you without saying how much everything changed since you left. The mansion in which we used to live in was taken over by dad, he kicked us all out and started his own family, completely abandoning us. Talia fell in love with a guy with connections to the underworld and lost her life to a don who enslaved her for 3 years. When she could no longer live with herself, she cut herself in the middle of a night and those monsters, instead of covering up her body and performing a proper funeral, left her naked cut body to rot in the streets for days until someone found it because of its foul smell. It took some time to identify her but when the media did, it broke me. To see my sister go through that filled me with rage and left me feeling so powerless because there was nothing I could do against these people. After some time had passed since Talia, I met this girl Alice in whom I found comfort. I confided in her and she embraced me with open arms. We went out for a couple of weeks before finding out she was already married to the same don responsible for Talia's murder. Thanks to our similar facial features, it wasn't hard for him to figure out who I was. As soon as he found out, he had me abducted from a fair I was attending and had me in front of a gun's barrel. He gave me two options, either die on the spot or live another day as one of his servants. I don't know why I chose the latter for the former would mean dying once but the latter would be to die everyday. Every single day he makes me clean his massive mansion with a small tooth brush. Everyday I fail to finish even a single floor for which he punishes me by making me stand in water filled with Piranhas. I have lost most of both my feet because of this, his wife, Alice yells at me horrible words just because I'm part Jewish, and keeps reminding me that me and my kind deserved the holocaust and what a whore my sister Talia was. It hurts more to know this is what she thinks of me now that we're over. To humiliate me further, the don would often fuck one of his sex slaves or his wife at times in front of me by tying my cock to a rope hung around a sensitive lever which would unleash the hounds on me should I get hard looking at them have a go at it. Once or twice an incident happened and I still have the scars all over my body. My life has gotten so sad that I'm afraid of making any friends whatsoever, I have to be rude to people, even kids all the time because I know that one little out for my emotions would mean a total breakdown for me, where I'd cry like a baby. Everyday before I leave that horrible mansion, I go over to their garden and smile that at least you guys are no longer here or you'd have it much worse than me. Heh, it's kind of ironic isn't it? Your death making me so sad while at the same time being a blessing. God, if there exists one, does work in mysterious ways, perhaps. I, anyway came here to tell you mom that, I'll be joining you soon. I want you to heat up whatever's leftover from last night because tomorrow I'm coming to you and Talia."Tomorrow he was going to his dead mother and sister? What did that mean? They're dead, how can he -Before I could finish processing that thought, I heard a cracker go off behind me. It was odd for a firecracker to go off at a cemetery. I sneaked a peek behind the gravestone I was hiding behind and saw Mr Steadler's skull all blown into several little pink pieces. The sound I heard wasn't of a firecracker... It was a gunshot.The gunshot had moved me, I didn't know what to do, all I knew was I had to get out of here otherwise it would be I who'd be in trouble. I made a run for my bike and cycled home as fast as I could. It was the longest journey I had ever embarked, from the cemetery to my place. All the events of the day kept going on repeat in my head. I reached home and went straight for a shower. I felt dirty, disgusted, and sad. I couldn't help but breakdown while in the shower. After a while it was difficult to tell how much of the liquid was actually water and how much were my tears. It's been 5 years since that one horrific night, nobody but me knows the tragic life that Mr. Steadler lead and now it's my burden to live out the rest of my days with that knowledge.

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[itsworn]

Plum Crazy for a 1970 Dodge Challenger 440 R/T

Welcome back to Mopar Muscle and to my monthly editorial. It’s been such an honor sharing my thoughts with all of you and hearing the positive feedback. Thank you to all who have written me the nice letters and commented on our social media — we really do listen. The fact is, I’ve always listened to your feedback over the years (some positive, some negative, but all honest) and we’re constantly trying to improve Graveyard Carz while heeding your advice and input. I’m convinced that this attention to our fans is why we just finished airing Season 9 on Velocity and will be back in October with Season 10. I’m so excited to see where tomorrow leads us.

In 1987, I received a phone call from a guy I knew who saw an ad in the Money Saver for a 1970 Challenger R/T in Philomath, Oregon. The ad stated it was a “440 Magnum with a Pistol Grip 4 speed.” The only other text in the ad was “doesn’t run” and “Asking $2,600.00.” As soon as I got off the phone I called the number listed in the ad and quickly arranged to see the car the next day. Philomath is a little less than 50 miles from Springfield so I couldn’t take off the same day — or I sure would have.

I drove up to Philomath the next day and looked at the car. It was sitting beside an old farm house, back up off the road. I knocked on the door and a gentleman came out and introduced himself as the owner of the car. He told me that he had owned the car for a few years. The previous owner — a friend of his — had gotten into drugs, ran a bill up on the car at a local repair shop, and couldn’t pay the bill. This gentleman stepped up and bailed the car out and that’s how he became the owner.

The car was very nice with no visible rust. The engine appeared to be original at a glance, except the heads had been changed and were blue in color — as opposed to the original Hemi Orange. The interior was a little rougher than the exterior though, missing a few pieces such as the driver’s door trim panel and console. The trunk floor would need to be replaced, as would one area around the battery box. After looking the car over I got out a flashlight and some carb cleaner on a rag to check the engine and transmission numbers. Sure enough, they matched the VIN. She was all numbers matching.

After a couple of hours, I offered the guy $2,000 for the car. He said he could take less than the asking price, but not that much less and counter offered at $2,200. Coincidentally, that’s exactly how much I had on me and could afford — so I took the deal. I went back the following weekend with my friend’s truck and trailer and brought it back to my little three-bay shop, Welby’s Car Care, located on the West side of the Coast To Coast warehouse. It used to be their TBA (Tires, Batteries and Accessories) store back in the ’7s, when they had a retail store up front. After replacing the fuel and the battery, I got the car running. It ran super hard; the tires were shot and I didn’t have money for new ones at the time, so I took the car home and put it in my garage — the same garage that would later be home to my 29K original-mile Superbird.

So, long story short, a couple of years passed, and business wasn’t great. Every month was another struggle to pay rent ($300 a month), lights, phone, and phone book advertisement. Yes, back then the phone book ads were how you got your business out there. Oh, and if you didn’t pay your monthly dues for the ad, old Ma’ Bell disconnected your phone. Yep, good old memories for sure. I ended up having to sell the car to keep my doors open. I hated it at the time, but looking back, I’m glad I was able to weather the storms of new business startups.

To advertise and sell the car, I sold it to a local flipper who would probably make money on the car quickly, but he had cash so it was OK. We arranged a time for him to come look it over and we met there at my house. He actually brought a friend of his over with him. I didn’t know this other person but figured they were buddies. Well, after driving the car around the block and looking it over, Wayde offered me $4,500 for the car. I accepted it and he went to his car. He came back with Ziploc baggies full of money. I never did quite understand that, but maybe it kept the money fresh. After I handed him the title, he turned to his friend, Paul, and said, “If you want it, it’s $5,500.” Paul smiled and reached in his pocket to pull out a wad of dough and proceeded to count out 55 large. That’s big boy talk for $5,500. I’ve bought and sold a lot of cars, but I’ve never made a $1,000 profit in two hours with no risk — good buy-and-sell job, Wayde.

Paul, the guy who bought the car, was excited to have the Challenger as he was on a roll. You see, he had just purchased and sold a very rare Challenger R/T, the kind that is truly “once in a lifetime”. He had bought a local Payless Drugstore race car, 1970 Challenger R/T, 426 Hemi, four-speed, Plum Crazy, with only 330 miles on it. I know he wouldn’t appreciate my sharing how much he made on the car, but I knew it helped him pay off his house. Paul had hoped for the same grandeur with my old car, but let’s face it, a 440 is no Hemi. R code vs. U code = $$,$$$.$$.

Over the next seven years, the numbers-matching Challenger sat in a garage waiting for the right buyer. Eventually, Paul had dropped his price to $7,500, which for the day, was still a healthy investment for someone. And guess who that someone was — Daren, aka “Chips,” from the first four seasons of Graveyard Carz. While Chips did like the car, he never took the initiative to restore it. He had a friend of his rebuild the engine and install an insane camshaft that had so much lift that the valves hit the pistons. He had the front suspension powdercoated, and I painted the bottom side of the car for him. For the most part, that’s about all he did to the car.

Fast-forward to October 2014, Daren was no longer on the show, and he decided to sell the car. I found a buyer who not only loved the car, but would have us restore it as well. It took Graveyard Carz approximately 24 months to completely restore this 1 of 916, Dodge Challenger R/T, with a 440 and a four-speed. It was featured several times throughout the series and would become one of the most beautiful cars we’ve ever done. Finally, this rare gem got the recognition and treatment it deserved.

Some of the things that make this car so rare and desirable are its options and colors. It’s FC7 Plum Crazy (the most popular color on Dodge muscle cars in 1970). It was optioned with the V1X black vinyl top and V6W white longitudinal stripe over black leather interior. What a beauty. In fact, prior to just a couple of months ago, it was the only Challenger I had seen with this exact color/stripe combination.

On that note, allow me a quick digression. Recently, I had a returning client send me a 1970 Challenger R/T “V” code — yes, a 440 Six Pack, four-speed Challenger in FC7 with V1X and V6W. Can you believe it? After never seeing the combination before, one shows up on my doorstep. Or should I say headstone? Being this is 1 of only 847 ever made, it may be the only one ever built this exact way. Stay tuned for the restoration beginning in Season X (that’s cool talk for season 10). It sounds a little smug, but we’ve earned that X.

Chips’ former car received a trunk floor replacement. Damage repair to the left quarter near the tail light. The left front apron was replaced, along with various small patches at the bottom of the quarters. All of the sheet metal on the car was original Dodge, including the correct “non-crush zone” hood. The original seats (including a 6-way driver’s seat) were restored using Legendary soft trim from our friends at Classic Industries. Classic Industries also provided all of the replacement OER parts as well. Jamie from Passon Performance went through the numbers matching Hemi 4-speed transmission. The original Dana 60 (3.54) just needed new seals and brakes. Our friends at Instrument Specialties restored the very nice original dash assembly to OE standards. PPG provided the DBC 2210 Base Coat and DCC 2002 Polyurethane Clear Coat. 3M is our exclusive vendor for all things in the body shop and their quality shows glowingly in our finished product. Special thanks to Tony’s Mopar Parts for the replica “A” pillar trim, date-coded reproduction clutch fan and fan blade. The pampered ride home to New Jersey was compliments of Reliable Carriers. And with that, the legend of the U code 1970 Challenger R/T, comes to a close.

Thank you all for reading my article and don’t hesitate to let me know your thoughts and feedback. You can email me at moparrevival@yahoo.com. Also, don’t forget we’re back this October with all new episodes of Graveyard Carz. As always, we’re honored to share your living room for an hour, one night a week. Until next time, remember, “Always reach just beyond your grasp.”

~Mark Worman

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[ecotone99]

[RF] Summer night walk home from the pub

Here I am, outside the pub, lovely warm glow in my cheeks now after some lovely pints with the lads, the boys. Fuck it, they're not my boys, I know them but do I fuck. Don't get me wrong, I have friends, my boys, just not these lads. They're grand lads in their own right, just more acquaintance. D'you see, I was a bit of an outsider when I was in primary school, so I never really had much to do with them, at least nothing good. They're all a bit older too, so you'd expect that. Then I went to school in town ,and they all went to the local secondary, so really I didn't see a lot of them til I was about 16.

I'd a run in with some of them when I was 13 or 14 I think, I told some stupid lies to the wrong lad, next thing I know I'm standing there by the road with a gang of them around me and my pants around my ankles, and that fucker with his light that looked like a gun up to my head. Wanker. Didn't get a slap or anything, just, that changed things for me a little. I was an intense young fella but that was a bit shit.

I got stronger and a bit fitter and sure I was mad about the bit of football, and happy out to play with the under 21s when I was asked. Well able to mix it, so I caught up with them again then. We'd plenty drama between this and then, like farting around with missed communications, me being called a snake and a lickarse for turning up to a game they told me wasn't on, because they wanted the coach gone. Dad didn't help with that side of things either. He was on the board and went fucking nuclear, like fucking Nuremberg. Hauled em all up in front of a panel. That was too fucking far. I think he knows it too. But anyways, years ago.

And there I am, outside, with a nice mist falling on my face outside on a summer's night. It's a weird feeling, like, I was happy out to be inside with the lads in a way, sitting back supping a few pints, making a funny quip or 2, I can be witty enough, but more so with my own friends. Sure these lads mightn't get my humour, the way I went to school in town, and away for college. But being outside the door of the pub, with the lovely silent closeness and hum of the night, with the orangey street light over my head, I like being here like this.

Right, fuck this, there's no reception up here so I'm walking home. It's going to be about a half an hour home, and sure by the time I get signal and there's someone up for me I'll nearly be home anyways. So off we walk, over across the road near the graveyard, then around the corner and up the road, towards the church. It's dark along here, but sure I'll hear the cars coming anyways, I'll keep in out of the way, nothing out tonight only the clouds and myself. Lovely warm night.

Sure I was a lonely enough lad I spose when I was younger. Fighting with the sisters, bored in school, bit beneath me like. I could understand most of it, and I was good at anything I cared about, but just like, meh, who cares about doing schoolwork. Telly or matches or out kicking ball or doing fucking anything other than looking at books when I came home. I told the parents we'd no homework for a month straight. They opened the diary one evening and found about 3 pages of notes from the bitch of a teacher. Did she not realise I really didn't like homework, and I knew it anyways, bored off my shite, who has time for homework. I used get anxious about it though. I had an ulcer when I was 14. Dad just thought I was being a bit of a mope. I didn't know what was going on.

But it's a lovely night here, up the road now passing the school. Few more lights here. The school looks tiny now. Sure it used be massive when we went here before. Everything's tiny. The road. The fence. The walk from here up to the church. Took ages. Small legs I spose. Lovely night for a walk home. Still a nice buzz off the pints.

How many pints did I have? 7 I'd say. I bought my own pint first, then I got Jackie one and we were on a few rounds then. Time is it... half 1. Yeah, surely only 7. Or 8. Fuck it, Dave gave me a jaegerbomb. I never bought him back one. I better get him a drink now the next time. Hanna was on tonight too. She's looking haggard enough these days.

The new church looks nice now in the few street lights, I wonder what the loan is looking like these days. I've not paid anything to it. I spose I should, but like, how do you go about that? Can you put it through the business do you think, tax break like? Ara fuck it, what'll they do, tear it down? Right, point her for home now, that's the highest point here now. All down hill from here. The night is clearing too. Turning into a nice auld evening altogether. Cooling down a bit too.

That's the end of the lights here too between now and home. sure we'll hear the cars. Donal bought me a pint too sure, Carlsberg, where ever he got the notion I'd be drinking Carlsberg. I don't think I've ever seen pints of Carlsberg inside there before. Why did he do that actually, like, twas a bit random. Sure I drank it anyways. Was it a joke? Did the lads give it to me for a laugh. Fucking eejit now'll drink this. Like the time they pissed in the coke bottle full of diluted orange. That was years ago. Ah fuck it he wouldn't have done that. Sure he was at our wedding.

Who's this now ringing. Liam? Fuck it, tis late for him to be on to me.

...

Well Liam, what's the craic?

Haha, langers laaaaad.

Walking home now in the dark, not a star in the sky. Some night ya? Class day for a barbecue alright.

Tomorrow ya. Who's there with ye?

...

Well Paul!

Nah, just walking home now from the pub. Just a few pints.

Hahaha, fuck off, I don't have a dog collar on me, I'm allowed out on my own. She's down home for a few days.

Yea. Hold on, car coming there. Fuck it he's flying. I better stand in.

hfumph

Well, I should be safe enough in here.

Well I'd nowhere to go really so I just fell arse first into the ditch. Car's gone there now. Jesus he was bombing it. Ah lads, It's starting to piss rain here.

Hold on, there's a fertiliser bag here next to me.

Perfect.

Sure look, worse places to sit out a shower like this.

Ya, sure I'll sit here, what's the harm in that.

Nah, I'm kinda off the ground. The briars are holding me up.

Haha, yeah, fine batch of thorns straight into my arse. Nah, it's grand, I can't feel em anyways. Many of ye out at Liam's today?

Fuck, nice crowd. I'm coming up tomorrow to ye, I'm bringing stuff for the barbecue. Right, only a quick shower. I better dig myself out of this and keep going.

Talk to ye tomorrow, ya ya, talk to ye, ya ya bye bye. Dickhead. Haha.

...

Right, sure I better bring this bag home with me, shouldn't really be leaving it in the ditch, litter and all like. Might be out of Ryan's or O’Hara's. Hardly, they'd surely pick up all their bags and use them again. Them Ryan's are after building some size of houses, fair play to them. Off away and made plenty money for themselves. Well able to talk and well able to work. C'mere, if you can build a house like that for yourselves, you've done something right.

Grand night out now again, that shower's after freshening up the whole place. Now, let's see how drunk I am, can I still jump the cattle grid. Ha, there we go, haven't lost it yet anyways. Where's the key for this place now. Fuck it, never mind, it's open. Right, lock this thing now. Into the dog in the kitchen. Sound asleep. She's some house pet. Toast? Oh yes, with real butter and proper Irish cheddar. Heaps of butter. Place is spotless, better put this stuff away. Too late for tea, pint of water will do, lovely stuff. Night dog! Down to say hello the mam and dad, tell em I'm home safe.

...

Hi, I'm back.

Ya, decent crowd.

Donal and Jackie, and a few more.

Ya. What time are ye heading to mass? Ok, sure I'll see ye tomorrow.

Night.

...

Happy out there they are. Fair play to them.

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