Little Miss Scare-All
folder
Paranormal/Supernatural › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,046
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Paranormal/Supernatural › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,046
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Vampire Tag
When Emmeline was six, she began her education after years of being underfoot at her mother’s craft store; watching wide-eyed as her mother practiced divination and gave advice, sometimes unwanted, but always sought after. The customers would smile at her dark honey hair and saucer-shaped green eyes, one hand clutching a soggy graham cracker, the other held hopefully forward, in an innocent gesture of cordiality, as children are wont to do. Sometimes they would pat her on the head, or kneel down to say hello in hushed tones, and were rewarded with a shy smile.
This smile did not make her welcome in Kindergarten, however. All of the children in her class already knew each other, from playground assignations long-formed. They had all grown up together, while Emmeline had grown up alone, save the company of her mother. One day, over apple juice and graham crackers at the kitchen table after another day of silence, she made note of it.
“Momma, those kids are quiet.”
“Quiet?”
“With me.”
“They don’t talk to you?”
“No.”
“Make a game. A game only you know, and they will all want to know too. If you’re having fun, all of a sudden, whatever the other kids are doing will not seem so fun at all.” Her mother gave her a warm, loving look and stroked her hair. These parcels of advice always contained the unspoken thought: Of course, they’re just blind to the light you have on the inside, or maybe it’s too bright and they cannot bear to look.
Considering this, she devised a game of tag which bore her particular fascination for the macabre. Those who knew her mother would posit she had been unduly influenced, but her mother’s love for the dark and mysterious notwithstanding, Emmeline was the type of girl who enjoyed being scared, her heart racing while watching Hammer horror movies on Creature Feature, peeking through her fingers as the mummy inevitably advanced, the werewolf chased the unsuspecting hiker in the woods, the vampire lowered his cape around his ravished victim.
Vampires, especially, were objects of equal parts fear and allure. How wonderful it must be to fly, change shape, live forever. But she drew the line at drinking blood. Her meat had to be well-done. And the look they gave their victims, it caused nightmares, prompting her to climb into her mother’s creaky brass bed in the middle of the night. The sound of her soft snoring would lull Emmeline back to sleep, to more pleasant dreams.
So on a bright Fall day, she ran around in her designated corner of the playground, stalking pretend victims, sleeping in a pretend coffin, flying around as a pretend bat. And just as her mother observed, eventually a few curious peers came her way.
“Whatcha doin,’ Emmy?”
She stopped mid-run, and although she was elated the plan had worked, she knew somehow, instinctively perhaps, that a certain practiced nonchalance was required in the response.
“Oh, just playin.’”
“Playin’ what?”
“Vampire tag.”
“Vampires? You mean like in the movies?”
“Yeah. If you’re ‘it’ you’re the vampire, and you have to chase your victims.”
“Oooh!” proclaimed a boy who joined the fray, “My brother was watchin’ this movie and the vampire had red eyes! And they tried to git him but he just flew away!”
“Yeah, you fly around and stuff. And you sleep in a coffin. When you’re asleep then the people can get you.”
“Oooh! And they put a big stick in your chest, and then you’re dead!”
The girls who had gathered all recoiled, their little bow mouths twisted into moues of distaste.
“Gross!” one exclaimed.
“It’s fun,” Emmeline said, but with a tone which indicated it was fun for her most of all.
Next thing she knew, all the boys were grouped together, ready to be chased by The Vampire Emmeline. After a few days of benign neglect, most of the girls had decided they too wanted to play, after all.
And Emmeline learned her playmates could swoon at her touch, if she squeezed them too hard, and she was so fleet of foot when being chased by the angry villagers it was as if she really could fly. And that her stare, the deep, cold stare of a predator who will not be barred by anything so trifling as goodness to get what she wants, what she needs, really did make them give in to her and offer their little necks to be nipped.
But their apprehension concerning her, even in the midst of their play, still lingered. She was still the girl on the outside, even for all her machinations. And what she wanted, most of all, was to be on the inside. She did not lust to be the center of attention, only desired, when coming to school every day, that a few faces smiled at her, and she in return; the same smile which warmed the hearts of others on occasion.
Again, Emmeline began to consider how this might come to pass.
This smile did not make her welcome in Kindergarten, however. All of the children in her class already knew each other, from playground assignations long-formed. They had all grown up together, while Emmeline had grown up alone, save the company of her mother. One day, over apple juice and graham crackers at the kitchen table after another day of silence, she made note of it.
“Momma, those kids are quiet.”
“Quiet?”
“With me.”
“They don’t talk to you?”
“No.”
“Make a game. A game only you know, and they will all want to know too. If you’re having fun, all of a sudden, whatever the other kids are doing will not seem so fun at all.” Her mother gave her a warm, loving look and stroked her hair. These parcels of advice always contained the unspoken thought: Of course, they’re just blind to the light you have on the inside, or maybe it’s too bright and they cannot bear to look.
Considering this, she devised a game of tag which bore her particular fascination for the macabre. Those who knew her mother would posit she had been unduly influenced, but her mother’s love for the dark and mysterious notwithstanding, Emmeline was the type of girl who enjoyed being scared, her heart racing while watching Hammer horror movies on Creature Feature, peeking through her fingers as the mummy inevitably advanced, the werewolf chased the unsuspecting hiker in the woods, the vampire lowered his cape around his ravished victim.
Vampires, especially, were objects of equal parts fear and allure. How wonderful it must be to fly, change shape, live forever. But she drew the line at drinking blood. Her meat had to be well-done. And the look they gave their victims, it caused nightmares, prompting her to climb into her mother’s creaky brass bed in the middle of the night. The sound of her soft snoring would lull Emmeline back to sleep, to more pleasant dreams.
So on a bright Fall day, she ran around in her designated corner of the playground, stalking pretend victims, sleeping in a pretend coffin, flying around as a pretend bat. And just as her mother observed, eventually a few curious peers came her way.
“Whatcha doin,’ Emmy?”
She stopped mid-run, and although she was elated the plan had worked, she knew somehow, instinctively perhaps, that a certain practiced nonchalance was required in the response.
“Oh, just playin.’”
“Playin’ what?”
“Vampire tag.”
“Vampires? You mean like in the movies?”
“Yeah. If you’re ‘it’ you’re the vampire, and you have to chase your victims.”
“Oooh!” proclaimed a boy who joined the fray, “My brother was watchin’ this movie and the vampire had red eyes! And they tried to git him but he just flew away!”
“Yeah, you fly around and stuff. And you sleep in a coffin. When you’re asleep then the people can get you.”
“Oooh! And they put a big stick in your chest, and then you’re dead!”
The girls who had gathered all recoiled, their little bow mouths twisted into moues of distaste.
“Gross!” one exclaimed.
“It’s fun,” Emmeline said, but with a tone which indicated it was fun for her most of all.
Next thing she knew, all the boys were grouped together, ready to be chased by The Vampire Emmeline. After a few days of benign neglect, most of the girls had decided they too wanted to play, after all.
And Emmeline learned her playmates could swoon at her touch, if she squeezed them too hard, and she was so fleet of foot when being chased by the angry villagers it was as if she really could fly. And that her stare, the deep, cold stare of a predator who will not be barred by anything so trifling as goodness to get what she wants, what she needs, really did make them give in to her and offer their little necks to be nipped.
But their apprehension concerning her, even in the midst of their play, still lingered. She was still the girl on the outside, even for all her machinations. And what she wanted, most of all, was to be on the inside. She did not lust to be the center of attention, only desired, when coming to school every day, that a few faces smiled at her, and she in return; the same smile which warmed the hearts of others on occasion.
Again, Emmeline began to consider how this might come to pass.