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Surinical t1_irmjxdd wrote

"Ricky! Are you okay?" Tina slammed her keys down on the counter. "I'm so sorry I'm late. My alarm didn't go off."

"It's fine," Ricky rasped from behind the front register and a pile of empty bottles of sun block. "It was just a few minutes. It's good to see the sunrise actually. Feel like I haven't seen it in fifty years, working night shift I mean," he tacked on quickly. "I'll clean these up. They were all expired."

"Don't worry about it," Tina said, clocking in. Had he really worked here fifty years? He didn't look thirty. "Can you get home okay?"

"Well," Ricky said, pale skin already a little pink. "You know night blindness? I kinda have day blindness. Do you think I'd get in trouble if I just slept in the backroom cooler? I already rotated all the stock for the day, put away the order and cleaned the back so I shouldn't be in your way back there."

"Perfectly fine, Ricky. Sleep well."

He really thought he was hiding it, Tina thought to herself. Poor guy.

He hasn't lied, she realized. He really has managed to do all the extra day tasks for the gas station over the night shift. He worked like three people, maybe four. He'd stopped leaving dead raccoons in the back parking lot too. She wasn't getting rid of him anytime soon.

She looked up from the Clancy novel she picked off the shelf when the door chimed.

"Where's the safe, bitch!" a tall man asked, shaking an old revolver at her.

"It's on a time delay. I can't open it for two more hours!" she yelled, opening the register. There was ten dollars plus some ones. What dumbass robs a gas station right after shift change? She shook as she handed him the drawer.

"Bullshit," he said, throwing the register down. "Sure me the rest or." He waggled the gun in her face.

"Okay! I'll show you." Tina said, raising her hands as she stepped into the dark back. The tall man followed. The cooler sat there humming.

"It's in there," she said, pointing to the cooler before she fully decided to. "That's where we hide it."

She stepped aside to let him pass and scurried back to the front, door closing behind her.

"What the f-" she heard, followed by a rustling, then another sound she really didn't want to think about.

"Thank you," she whispered to the back after the sound stopped. She would have to get him a better setup than a cooler. Halloween was coming up, a coffin back there might be fun.



Graoutchmeuh t1_irn0v0v wrote

No more dead raccoons is nice, but I'm not sure more dead humans is better.


sully9088 t1_irnr6a9 wrote

I like that he's only drinking animals dry (not too sure if he's going to town on the robber though). If he's trying to hide the fact that he's a vampire then he might come up with some hilarious excuse for destroying the robber. Haha.


codeki t1_irnrou8 wrote

"wow, he doesn't have a drop of blood left in him?"

"Wow, those anemia related heart attacks are killer. No idea how he made it here. . . "


sully9088 t1_iroji4c wrote

Lol! wipes blood from mouth "It uhh... It was dark... And... Uhh... I tripped on this poor guy and he just died. I mean... He was already dead when I tripped on him. He must've cut his neck wide open and bled to death somehow. The poor soul."


rain-blocker t1_irovqq2 wrote

"what's that? whe-where's all the blood? I uh... Don't really know what to tell you there."


u35828 t1_irpszl6 wrote

If a vampire consumed blood loaded with pharmaceuticals, would there be any side effects? That would make for an interesting writing prompt subject.


CandiBunnii t1_irq6s0q wrote

I'd think it could be similar to how breast milk loaded with pharmaceuticals may effect a baby... Not sure how close babies are to vampires though.


IndianaNetworkAdmin t1_irq7etk wrote

One is a parasite that manipulates and feeds on humans and the other counts numbers on Sesame Street.


Lalapaya t1_irqdcw1 wrote

I'm a mum and you literally made me lol. Thank you for this.

It's true though


Katiel_Silver t1_irq7quf wrote

A little less bloodlust, but otherwise not that far off. Both hiss at the sun and bite you when you least expect it.


corborb t1_irqh285 wrote

We drank the blood of some people but the people were on drugs and now I'm a wizard -confused vampire found wearing a traffic cone


chalkchick0 t1_irp7v0p wrote

If a vamp drinks just a small portion of your blood, and leaves you alive, the infection makes you their puppet. (See pretty much every vamp movie or book written before the nineties.) As humans have a lot more blood than racoons he may have just had a snack and the robber has been nullified.

The "corpse" may obediently become the store's mop person.


Keyoya t1_irqkta8 wrote

Eh most i know of only really ever effect you if they drink most/all of your blood and leave you alive, or drink theirs ect?


chalkchick0 t1_irqoosp wrote

My only claim to expertise comes from dozens of books I've read and movies I've watched so... What the heck, lets see how much I remember. (I'm sixty. I'm fine with corrections or nit picking. lol)

Lets start with the non infected voluntary servant, IE, the Renfield character type. Note, not PC by any means.

This servant of Drac is often/traditionally a son of a whore, born addled in mind/incurably mad due to maternal pox or other foul disease. Often portrayed as viciously abused as children. They are not hypnotized but come voluntarily to service. There are hints of an overpowering man crush (seldom addressed in early portrayal but fully actualized in more modern pieces,) idol worship, or strung along on promises of future reward. They both "run errands" and keep pests away from Drac's sleeping place by sheer dent of a ravenous appetite for the devouring of bugs and rats.

The Renfeild are not converted so they can run daylight errands.

My favorite portrayers of this character type are Michael Anthony Richards as Fejos and Arte Johnson as Renfield. I lump Martin Alan Feldman as Igor (Young Frankenstein) in here because, though not a Drac character, it runs in the same vein and is laughing and lovingly portrayed as such. As you can see, I like my horror tongue in cheek.

Then the hypnotized servants, often dormant until called. These often are not aware they are in service to a Drac.

Then you have the bitten, only partially drained but not fed bond. These are infected in a milder form and often require multiple bites and occasional boosts with hypnoses to maintain control. These are the meals on wheels of Dracs world. It's not delivery, it's Dracula's on call snacks.

Then the bitten, drained to the last heart beat, and fed a small amount of blood (Not necessarily Drac's, vampires do not make cells because they are dead. Their victims recycled blood?) from his veins. These are sometimes shown being fed from a small cut on a finger. These are fully bonded/infected but not converted. Children of the Night?

Then the converted lesser Drac, bitten, drained to the last heart beat, and fed directly from an artery, fully infected but not having equal powers.

Then, I think, full Drac, bitten, drained to the last drop, kept in a semblance of life only by the Dracs will, and fed directly from an artery, fully infected, and granted full powers. Sometimes these include a spell or ceremony to complete the change.

Often full Dracs are seen as violently territorial.

I will leave The Brides and Harams to someone else.

That was fun! TY. :D


SnooPuppers4858 t1_irqwz2q wrote

Wow! Terrifying and informative!


chalkchick0 t1_irqxcbo wrote

SO read the comment, looked at me funny, and asked if my sleeping during the day and knowing too much about vampires were connected. lol

I left out that only the last three traditionally crave blood and are severely light sensitive.

Hmmm. Think I might go out in the day tomorrow... Just to double check. :p


Daniel_H212 t1_irnxr2h wrote

Eh maybe he just knocked the guy out we don't know he killed the dude.


Chromabbr t1_irmogki wrote

Two coffins, one with beer for the Halloween parties and one for him.


superanth t1_irosirx wrote

Nice. Very, very nice. Did she say he didn't look 30 because she somehow knew he'd been a vampire for 80 years?


safetyinstars t1_irp57lb wrote

I think it was a partial aside. She was marveling that he could have been working for 50 years when he didn't even look 30 years old.


argalt345 t1_irqmyv2 wrote

Would legit love a few short stories about the adventures of tina and rick in the gasstation xD


sadnesslaughs t1_irmq686 wrote

“How are the hotdogs, Reginald?”

“The unknown meat of beasts has been dormant for a week. If it’s freshness you seek, I suggest coming tomorrow morning.” Reginald didn’t glance over from the hotdog machine, carefully rotating the meat to make it appear more edible.

“Right, thanks for the head up. You know, it’s funny. It’s like you have been working here for years. Strange how quickly time flies.”

That comment made Reginald turn around, the pale vampire grinning. He loved it when people made comments like that. To him, it was a reminder of how superior he was. He had gone decades without being noticed and his disguise was still holding firm, or so he thought. Like the rest of the town, I enjoyed throwing him a bone now and then. It was nice to see my words add some excitement to his undead heart.

“How amusing. As I’m sure you’re aware, I only graced this establishment with my presence a few months ago. Perhaps you are mistaking me for another handsome being who only works night shifts.”

“Must be. Guess I’m just a bit of a scatterbrain.” I laughed, though the laugh was cut short when I saw him staring at me. Reginald just staring with an intensity that made me nervous. Was this going to be the day he snapped? He had never shown any aggression before, but maybe the sight of all that stuffed meat had triggered something in him. When his lips parted, I winced.

“No, you’re a valued customer. I appreciate the exchange of words we have.”

That was more shocking than an attack. I had never heard him say something that nice before. I wasn’t sure if he was naturally cold or if that was just something that came with the curse of vampirism, but usually, he would only talk himself up. As I stood there stunned, he went back behind the counter, not paying my shocked expression any mind.

I stood there for longer than I care to admit, only getting snapped out of my trance when my gaze fell to the security camera hanging above me. My slack-jawed reflection on the screen was enough to get me moving again. I shuffled through the store, grabbing the jelly dinosaur snacks I had a craving for. Unable to resist the allure of a late-night snack run.

It was strange knowing a living vampire. All my life I had grown up thinking vampires weren’t real, only to encounter one working in a 7/11. Even stranger than that was the fact that everyone was in on this. Collectively, the town had agreed they would look after the vampire, even lying to any vampire hunters that came to town, pivoting them away before they could hunt our beloved Reginald.

Why the town adopted Reginald was a question I still didn’t have a concrete answer on. Some say it was an act of pity after the owner of the store begged the mayor for his safety, while others claim he had been working undetected for a decade without causing trouble, so no one bothered to bring it up. Everyone knew he drank blood, but we also knew he sourced it mainly from animals or, at worst, would visit a blood bank. He never killed, never hunted, he just kept flipping hotdogs. Perhaps we all admired that about him?

Most people would have been corrupted by such power and yet he lives a more normal life than most. It’s like being gifted with the abilities of a god and deciding to spend your time playing Sims rather than actually do anything productive or destructive with it. Maybe that’s why we liked him? In a strange way, he felt human. It was clear he didn’t choose his powers, hell if the stories are to be believed, he was a crying mess when he came to apply for the job. The owner assumed it was nerves, but it was probably out of fear of being detected. I really can’t picture him crying, though. If only he could learn to speak like a human, no one would probably notice the whole vampire thing.

“Why are you staring at those gelatin fossils? Are you ok?” Reginald placed a chilly hand on my forehead, checking my temperature.

“Yeah, sorry. I zoned out for a second there. Jeez, you move quick. I thought you were behind the counter.”

“You were staring for quite a long time.”

I couldn’t tell if he had moved at a superhuman speed or if I had just zoned out for longer than I expected. I gave a sheepish laugh before heading to the counter, glancing over the stupidly expensive specials hanging on display near the cigarette cabinet. I still wondered how a business could sell two chocolate bars and a drink for $8.00, especially when there was a supermarket across the street. What sort of idiot would pay their over-inflated prices? I tried not to think about how I was that idiot as I slid the jelly dinosaurs over to Reginald.

“$6. Would you like to add a drink for an extra $2?”

“Fine, I’ll get a drink too. Cause I’m a sucker.” I muttered that last part under my breath, grabbing a drink from the fridge before paying him the money.

“It’s a better use of your funds. The beverage is usually $5.”

I just nodded like an idiot. Already accepting the store had caught me in its trap. I would accept my defeat with dignity, rather than spit the dummy over a few extra dollars. It was my fault for snacking so late. He slid my drink and jelly dinosaur’s back, giving me a nod.

“Thanks, I’ve been meaning to ask, what do you do with your spare time?”

“What a bizarre question. Are you trying to form some sort of friendship bond with me that goes above customer and server?”

“I guess?”

“I enjoy that groove machine at the arcade. The one where you dance on the arrowed tiles. I also enjoy horror games.”

“Want to play a round some time? The arcades open pretty late, so we can go after one of your shifts. Or you could always come over and play a game at my place. There has to be a good two person horror game.”

“I will acquire one for us. I would enjoy that a lot.”

So, we exchanged numbers. Sharing our details before I headed out the door, the little ding of the door’s bell seeing me out. Just before I stepped out of the store, I heard him call back to me.

“One last thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Invite me in when I come over.”

“No problem. I’ll see you around.”


(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)


aspenatr t1_irngclf wrote

Loved the detail at the end with him needing to be invited in for the visit because he’s a vampire. Great writing!


cayoloco t1_irpi6vt wrote

>“One last thing.”
>“What’s that?”
>“Invite me in when I come over.”

"You're not gonna drink my blood if I invite you in right? Because you have to tell me if you're going to kill me first otherwise it's entrapment."

"I can't even begin to unpack all the falsehoods in the words you have just said."


NotCohenNotBrothers t1_irtusee wrote

Reginald bows. "Of course not! If it makes you feel any better, I will feed well before our gaming session. Will that make you more comfortable?"


YellowBoilerSuit t1_irpztu2 wrote

The last few lines were a nice touch!

The daily happenings of Reginald, the Benign Vampire - would be fun to read!


umimama t1_irq36hm wrote

I’m picturing Reginald as a cross between Nick Cave and Paulie Walnuts. Black hair with just a smidge of grey at the temples. I love that the town all took pity on him, and won’t betray his whereabouts to Van Helsing cosplayers.


rad_avenger t1_irrwhk1 wrote

I adored Reginald's speech patterns - nice work!

"The unknown meat of beasts has been dormant for a week" hahaha


GrunkleStanwhich t1_irn1okd wrote

The door beeped with that familiar ding dong that signaled another customer entering my domain. I recognized the man, Gregory he was called. He had once long ago told me to call him Greg, a sign of cordial behavior that I appreciated, yet declined.

"Hello Gregory. What a nice evening it is, here for Hot Cheeto Puffs or those sour worms you are so fond of?"

He looked up and gave me a half smile, then went back to browsing the aisle. This was unlike Gregory. No, Gregory was warm and full of liquid life. He was not only a welcomed, but an expected part of my nights. I looked over to Darla at the register to my side who failed to return my gaze. She had only been here a year, it took at least three to become so intrinsically linked that we knew the others thoughts.

Me and Jerry had that. I missed Jerry.

"Darla dear. Do you notice something peculiar about Gregory? He has not even glared at the Hot Cheeto Puffs by Frito Lay. "

Darla gave me a look up from her phone that I did not recognize. I deemed myself an expert at reading human emotion, so being unable to do so caught me off guard. Content? Apathy maybe? She replied "Why don't you go check on him then"

A great idea. Maybe Darla was not just a skin linned bag of fluids after all. I flicked back my cape revealing my nametag pinned to a bright green 7-11 shirt. Ishmael, it read, but after working here so long the nametag was only necessary to complete my clever disguise.

I made sure to take plenty of deliberate and clumsy human steps as I approached him, a practice I'd picked up on in my third year working here after a little boy pointed out now quiet my movements were. Gregory looked up upon my approach with wide eyes. The eyes of a man crying out for help no doubt.

He backed up to the drink coolers to which I followed, leaning in close so he knew I cared for him. Proximity in the human world meant kindness, a habit which I was quick to pick up on. He smelled of blue. Of that blue smoke he puffed from that strange little machine he kept on hand.

"Hey Ishmael....can I help you?"

"Shhh Gregory. Tell me what troubles you. I can see it in your eyes, and as a loyal 7-11 employee it is my job to ensure the well being of all my customers."

I could see his tongue wanted to speak, but his brain stopped him. In the argument between voice and mind he instead grew quiet. I looked back to Darla who was staring with a smirk, she gave me a reassuring thumb up.

"You can speak to Ishmael, Gregory. I am here for your troubles." I leaned in closer to prove my loyalty. If he had a stake he could kill me and I'd be none the wiser, but I trusted Gregory.

"It's just... I've been thinking about mortality ya know? I got robbed the other day and, well, what if that was it? What if they had killed me and I'd just died right there on the street."

Ah, mortality. The hardest of human concerns but most prevelant. But that second thing concerned me more. Steal? From Gregory? A loyal customer of the 7-11? Unspeakable.

His eyes seemed to flicker with brilliance and he followed "But! But uhhh well. It has made it hard to come in at night knowing those guys are still out there. Just down that road. That road right there, just hanging out on the corner of Sutton and Third. And the police won't do anything."

"Ah, say no more sweet Gregory." I pulled back away and placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt so warm that it nearly burned me. "Take your Puffed Cheetos and go. It is on me tonight."

Then with a flick of my cape I made my way to the door out. Darla still stared to me with a smirk on her face. In the window I stared backwards to Gregory, who seemed more at ease as he grabbed his snack of choice. I called out to my loyal, yet often apathetic companion, "Darla. Do you mind manning the registers? I am going on break. Oh, and remind me to get a new umbrella. You know how the moonlight hurts my skin."

As I walked out into that dark and warm night I felt at home, displaying my squared nametag with pride. And as I did I knew: I am Ishmael, loyal 7-11 employee of fifty-four years, valued member of my community for even longer, and a vampire who cares dearly for his customers.


daIliance t1_irnlck6 wrote

He wears a cape during work? Haha


TyBoneSteak t1_iro9ga0 wrote

I would love to hear of the daily shenanigans of Ishmael. Kinda like the Tales of the Gas Station series lol


happybunnyntx t1_irpcpdu wrote

I love the added detail of moonlight hurting his skin. It is just reflected sunlight after all.


shadowylurking t1_irplq04 wrote

>Ah, mortality. The hardest of human concerns but most prevelant. But that second thing concerned me more. Steal? From Gregory? A loyal customer of the 7-11? Unspeakable.

Amazing. Didn't expect to snort laugh that hard


YellowBoilerSuit t1_irpuk16 wrote

Great story! I like that he draws a line for repeat customers….it’s kinda like he is a vigilante based solely on customer loyalty lol


rabidbadger6 t1_irpp2td wrote

I really enjoyed reading this, and found myself grinning more and more the further I read. :)


GrunkleStanwhich t1_irsgqox wrote

Thank ya! Writing with a little more comedy/goofiness in mind is something I've been working on so I'm glad it was enjoyed


NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iro3qfm wrote

"Bertha! Bertha! Beeeeeerrrrrrttttthhhhhhhaaaaaa!!" The little boy's high-pitched voice rang down the aisles, bouncing off the bags of salty snacks, wandered through the dozens of boxes of candy. Eventually it made its way to my ears. I was sitting down behind the counter on a plastic milk crate. I usually didn't "zone" when working, but it was 3 am on a rainy Tuesday and I hadn't had a single customer since 9.

"Bertha! Bertha!"

"I'm here, Jeffery. What is it? What are you doing up so late?" I pulled myself up on my feet and looked through the bullet-proof glass shield. Jeffery's clothes were soaking wet and he was missing a sneaker. His face was dirty and his eyes were red.

I vaporized and slid through the cash-slit of the glass. Jeffery was my favorite great-great-great grandson. Seeing him distressed caused me to forget myself. I spelled him so he'd forget what he'd just seen me do.

"What is it, sweetheart? Why are you out so late? What happened to your other shoe? Why are you crying?" The brown-haired little boy looked startled and jumped when I touched him. I spelled him again. See, I move very quickly. Usually I can hide my speed but like I said, I like this kid. A lot.

"It's mama's boyfriend! He hit mama! I told him I was gonna make him stop and he kicked me in the butt! I fell down the stairs!"

Ah, but of course. My great great great grandson's mother. Beatrice Walker never met a man worth a plugged nickel in a rigged card game. She'd already been married and divorced 4 times. She'd been abandoned one time, but I'll hold my tongue about that particular man. I'd tried to save her from herself her entire life, but once my Jeffery came along, I gave up on his mother and spent all my time and efforts on him.

I was getting on in years, you know.

Jeffery looked around the store. I could feel the hunger radiating off him. Oh my God, he was thin. I hadn't noticed at first but this kid hadn't had a decent meal in a couple days.

"Hotdog, baby? You like it with extra ketchup, no mustard, right?" I walked to the rollers. "Oh, look! There's two! I'll bet you could easily eat two hotdogs, couldn't you?" I opened a fresh bag of hotdog buns and slid them into the warmer. As they heated up, I walked up to the fresh fruit display. There was a small container of green grapes. I added a banana and pulled a strawberry milk out of the QuikPiks display.

"Come over here and wash your hands, honey." I set a cardboard box down and placed a napkin on it. I pulled a footstool over and gestured at Jeffery to sit down. I placed the food and the milk down and he started tearing into the grapes. Yep. This kid had gone at least two days without food.

Beatrice was going to listen to me tonight. The timer on the bun-warmer dinged. I squirted a ridiculous amount of ketchup on both dogs and made a theatrical serving gesture "Bone Appetite, Mon-sewer!"

I told Jeffery I'd be back in a few minutes, in the meantime, he was to finish his food, then lie down behind the counter on the blanket I'd spread out for him. "Don't worry-the door is locked. No one will bother you."

I locked the double doors behind me and walked out of sight of the parking lot lights. Just in case Jeffery was watching. I doubted it, though. I could feel his hunger and right behind it, the pure exhaustion.

I shot straight up into the air. A minute later I was pounding on Beatrice's front door. "INVITE ME IN, HONEY!" I yelled.


Pinkbeans1 t1_irooc0o wrote

I loved this. Really had me laughing at the end. Invite me in so I can kick the bastard’s ass, please!


NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iropjv8 wrote

Thank you! That, and Bertha must be really tired of Beatrice's screwups and neglect of Jeffery.


happybunnyntx t1_irpdi3l wrote

I'm afraid of an angry grandma at the best of times, I can't imagine a vampire grandma!


NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iru2lt5 wrote

I pounded on the door. I could hear whispers, Beatrice was crying softly. Her man, Luke, John, Bubba, whoever was yelling, I could smell his rage as well as hear his words and thoughts. Beatrice was trying to calm this latest mistake down but Luke John Bubba Whatever wasn't having it.

Beatrice hissed at him "BE QUIET, BABY! I'm serious! Bertha is NOT to be messed with!"

"Bitch, I ain't afraid of you, and I am NOT afraid of a fat old 7/11 clerk!"

Ah, I could hear the slurring. I could also smell the Jack Daniels through the walls. This explained everything. Beatrice fell off the wagon repeatedly, especially after she'd actively search out drunks and addicts to partner with.

No wonder Jeffery hadn't been fed. I then realized he was obviously missing school, too. This 7-year-old was out wandering in a rainstorm on a school night, of course he was missing school. I felt immediate shame; I should have been keeping better track of him.

The shame I felt enraged me. I pounded again. "BEATRICE! YOU INVITE ME IN RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"

I heard a scuffle, slaps, and a cry. Beatrice now had a nosebleed. I could smell that, too.

Poor Jeffery. He'd been the audience to these two idiots for quite some time and I had let it happen.

I continued pounding. "BEATRICE! BEATRICE!!!...."

Suddenly the back door slammed open. I was standing at the front door so I jumped over the house, landing on the back porch. Beatrice was standing on the cement stoop, staring into the back yard. "Bertha! Bertha! Where are you??" I tapped her on the shoulder and she screamed.

"Dammit, Bertha, how do you do that? You scared me!"

"Invite me in, Beatrice. Where's what's-his-name?"

"Please come in, Bertha. I don't know--be careful, he has a gun and couple knives. I think he's in the basement right now. He doesn't like you, Bertha. I think he'll try to kill you."

"Does he have many relatives, Bea?"

She stopped shaking for a moment, her nose bleeding continuously.

"What? What kind of question is that? Bertha, what the fuck?"

"I need to know" I spoke slowly and carefully as if I were speaking to an idiot. Which I was. "If anyone is going to come looking for him anytime soon."

Beatrice's eyes grew wide "NO! Bertha, NO! Don't kill him, I love him! He's just, he's just, he is having trouble at work, and his ex-wife is lying to the courts, and....."

Oh my God, NOW do you see why I gave up on her?

"Beatrice, do you know where your son is?" I couldn't help it-my contempt was clear on my face. Beatrice looked startled. "Jeffery? He's in his bed. Where else would he be?" She glanced at the clock on the stove. It read 3:14. My stomach churned. I hadn't noticed it right away because of the excitement, but the house STANK. There were flies, and un-dumped garbage pails and piles of dishes and papers and clothing piled everywhere.

I said nothing, but staring into Bea's eyes, I stomped across the kitchen and yanked the refrigerator door open.

It was empty. That is, except for a half-empty bottle of vodka.

I turned towards the woman. "I was going to........I need........EBT...........Jeffery's father claimed...........called the courts..........someone.........."

I could have easily punched myself in the face at that moment. I claimed to love this little boy more than anyone I've ever loved, and I was completely unaware of just how awful his life was. Well, that ends tonight.

I was disgusted with myself, so I went a bit out of control.

While Beatrice and I argued in the kitchen, Luke John Bubba was creeping up behind me, holding a knife in one hand and a glass of Jack Daniels in the other. Bea's eyes went wide at one point and I could clearly see him in her left eye.

"Hang on, Beatrice. I have to handle something." I reached behind me and grabbed his throat with my left hand. I move quickly. He never saw it coming. I crushed his windpipe and he expired sloppily on the kitchen floor in front of the mostly-empty refrigerator. I turned to Beatrice. "I notice you didn't warn me he was sneaking up behind me, Beatrice." I tsk-tsked her.

Beatrice screamed and threw herself on whatever-his-name-was's body.

She looked up at me in rage at one point. "YOU BITCH!! I LOVED HIM!!!"

She wailed and screamed so loud I was sure the neighbors were going to hear. I perked my ears up, yep. A neighbor was speaking to his wife about calling the police "That disgusting woman--with the drunk asshole, maybe we should call someone? It's been pretty loud tonight."

His wife tried to soothe him "Don't worry, honey. They'll pass out soon."

I knew the husband would override his wife's suggestion and call the police. That left me with a few minutes to tidy up this mess.

I turned to Beatrice.

"Bea. Darling. I'm sorry. But, this has to be done. I know he hasn't entered your thoughts at all tonight, but I want you to know that Jeffery is going to have an AMAZING life. You can go on to the next world not ever worrying about him. Do you understand me?"

Beatrice didn't understand me. Don't be surprised. Don't worry, though, it was a quick ending. I move fast, after all.

The newspapers described a sad murder/suicide, never mentioning a sweet brown-haired little boy. Neighbors forgot about him as well, not ever remembering anyone other than the argumentative couple who seemed "to drink quite a bit."

Jeffery is now 10 and in the top 10% of his class. He told me last summer that he wants to learn Spanish, so we'll be moving to Spain in a few weeks' time. He has forgotten the first few years of his childhood. It bothers him sometimes, but he's a sweet, intelligent boy who is interested in all sorts of things.


ireneach t1_iruygba wrote

Thank you so much! It is very nice to have a satisfying closure to the story. Looking forward to reading more from you!


kingura t1_irvtj4i wrote


I’d still read a trilogy about her. She’s a cool character. But that’s a good ending too!


Chaosmancer7 t1_irxtfrg wrote

Well, that escalated quickly


NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iry5jpr wrote

Well, once Bertha realized how neglected Jeffery was, she saw that nothing was going to change. She missed a lot of signs and is REALLY disgusted with herself for failing the little boy.

I will say that she wasn't planning on what happened, but once she was there in the house and saw the situation she made the decision.


beach_fox t1_isie7jc wrote

>That was more shocking than an attack. I had never heard him say something that nice before. I wasn’t sure if he was naturally cold or if that was just something that came with the curse of vampirism, but usually, he would only talk himself up. As I stood there stunned, he went back behind the counter, not paying my shocked expression any mind.

After your first few centuries, you've gotta learn when it's time to cut your losses, snip off loose ends, and take off with what you can salvage from a situation. Good on Bertha.


kingura t1_irpopzx wrote

If this epicness gets a part two, I wanna be tagged.

I’d read an entire trilogy about Bertha.


SilasCrane t1_irojvjd wrote

"Salaam, effendi." Al said, bobbing his turbaned head in greeting, as I entered my family's convenience store for my early shift, about an hour before dawn. I glanced around, and saw that Al had, as always, faithfully done the cleaning the breakfast food prep, and our pristine 7-11 was ready for me to take over for the morning shift.

Al's a really good employee.

"Dawn approaches." Al reminded me, as I came around behind the counter and stashed my coat behind it.

I smiled. "Not a problem, go ahead and clock out." I had no worries about zeroing out his till, Al was never off by so much as a cent. Like I said, he's really good.

Al gave me a sober nod, and then, without saying another word or breaking eye contact, he glided away backwards, through the swinging "Employees Only" door into the back room. I gave an involuntary shudder.

Well, he's good at doing his job. When it comes to pretending to not be a vampire...he tries. To be fair, back when my grandpa opened the franchise in the 1970s, no one in our small town off the Interstate had ever met a Muslim. So, when Al claimed that his religion forbade him to go out in the daytime, it didn't occur to anyone to call him on it. Its symbol was a crescent moon, after all. Besides, as Al explained, it's much too hot to go out during the day, in his homeland of "South Arabia".

And, without Google to instantly confirm their suspicions, most people would probably have simply passed over the oddity of an ostensibly Muslim man wearing a Sikh-style turban, and being named "Al Abdul". (No, I don't mean his last name is "Al-Abdul" -- first name "Al", last name "Abdul".)

A few minutes later, the safe unlocked automatically, and I placed the money from Al's till inside, before counting out the appropriate amount of change for my own till and closing it again. After opening my till, I glanced at the donation box behind the counter. Another shudder ran down my spine, as I saw the set of neatly folded clothes and a pair of shoes in the box.

The clothes, assuming they weren't particularly distinctive, would go to Salvation Army, but we've never found out what Al does with the rest of his "leftovers". It's probably better that way. When I first found out about Al, my dad had assured me that everyone who "donated to charity" while Al was on shift was someone the world was better off without, and I had personally seen hand-me-downs from some people I knew to be particularly despicable end up in that old cardboard box. It was still unsettling, though.

For the first hour of my shift, I had only a few customers stop in for some coffee or doughnuts, as well as the usual steady stream of people paying at the pump for gas. The man who walked in to the store around 6 AM didn't look much different than most of my customers -- he was unshaven and a little bleary-eyed, but that was to be expected at this time of day.

So imagine my surprise, when he responded to my cheerful "Good Morning!" by shoving a gun in my face.

"Money!" he hissed. "Now!"

I was scared, obviously, but there was a procedure for this, that applied to every employee except Al, who by now, would be asleep inside his "prayer box" in the old storeroom in back.

I followed that procedure to the letter, holding one hand up and gingerly opening the register with the other. He was, predictably, unsatisfied with the handful of bills, and let me know with a string of profanity, and several sharp jabs of his gun in my direction. I shakily pointed to the customary sign on the wall that was designed to prevent just such an awkward situation:


He expressed his opinion of the sign's veracity by striking me across the face with his gun, sending me staggering back into the shelves of cigarettes behind me, and then vaulting the counter and screaming at me to open the safe. I scrambled back away from the irate -- and, I noticed, clearly tweaking -- robber, while pleading my case vociferously.

Looming over me, he advanced forward, his threats becoming increasingly graphic as he came forward. He didn't fire, because I was just backing up, cowering -- I wasn't trying to run. That, too, was part of the "procedure" I mentioned.

Predictably, as I stopped before the door to the backroom, the angry thief shoved me through the swinging door, and followed me inside, warning me of the consequences of failing to produce any more than the paltry amount I'd given him.

And with that, I had successfully completed the standard emergency procedure that my dad and grandpa had drilled into me, in case of a robbery. We passed into the pale fluorescent light of the backroom, and the door swung shut behind my assailant, shutting out the sunlight.

My assailant stopped pointing his gun at me -- he had little choice, as his gun arm suddenly bent the wrong way. He screamed in pain and horror as a slender, too-tall shape that seemed to be made of pure darkness melted out of the shadows among the shelves, and hauled him off his feet and into the air.

"Al, don't--" I began, my eyes widening in shock, but I didn't finish the sentence before another snap echoed through the backroom. The robbers head lolled to the side, his neck stretched and bent at a sickening angle. I forced my breakfast back down into my stomach.

"I have apprehended the criminal, effendi." Al said, in a hollow, unnatural voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "I will...turn him over to the proper authorities."

Swallowing hard, I gave him a mute nod, and watched him melt back into the shadows. I suppose I'd always known that Al's thin human visage wasn't actually meant to fool us -- he didn't think we were stupid. It wasn't so much an actual disguise or deception, as it was a polite fiction. A lie mutually agreed to, that allows otherwise inimical beings to coexist in relative peace, protected by a thin veneer of not-so-plausible deniability.

Once I heard the lid of his box close again, I fled the room through the swinging door as fast as I could.


NotCohenNotBrothers t1_iroml6r wrote

I like Al! First name Al....last name....Abdul.

And the donation box is a nice touch.


YellowBoilerSuit t1_irq27h1 wrote

"donated to charity" is a great normal sounding euphemism - I cracked up to that. Hiding by using religion is also clever idea. Nice story.


patentmom t1_irpvut0 wrote

I was expecting there to be an addition to the donation box.


Slay3RGod t1_iroo0xf wrote

I heard from my classmates that the cashier at the local 7-11 is a vampire. Aren't vampires supposed to be weak to sunlight? But, you always see him out during the day. Well, even if he is, I don't think he's a bad one. I've been seeing him there since I can remember. I'm 13 now.

Every time I go there he'd drop me back home if I'm late or give me candy and tell me stories if I'm waiting for my mom etc. I remember once Ellie told mom and dad of how Rick had defeated a bear that was about to attack her. But, it being the Ellie who has a crush on Rick, I did not believe it. I was 10 at the time, not 2 to believe that a person can fight a grizzly. Ellie my dear older sister has always been a bit of a cloud head. But, after hearing about the vampire thing, I asked dad about it and he showed me a photo of himself with Rick taken when he was only 10. Rick's been the cashier since even before then.

Dad told me Rick is sort of the guardian angel of our little community. That he's the reason no robber, drug dealer etc ever sets foot here. That he keeps us safe. He said it's a rule that no one tells him that we know he's a vampire because it makes him happy to not be treated as one. If some day people started treating me differently, I wouldn't like it either. It would probably make me sad. So, I vow never to reveal to Rick that i know.

Well, I'll make his favourite cookies for protecting us all.


Pleased_to_meet_u t1_irq3l0c wrote

I like that your protagonist was 13. I could ‘hear’ the story in their voice.


Robysto7 t1_irp2loi wrote

[Part one. Part two in the comment below.]

The booming thunder shook the walls of the shop, the accompanying flash of lightning unable to penetrate the dark tinted windows. Fluorescent bulbs flickered in the dimly lit aisles. The soft light of the coolers on the shop's perimeter provided most of the illumination. Despite these limitations Vladimir ensured his 'children of the night' could locate the provisions they sought for their late night cravings. The high toned modern klaxon announced the arrival of one.

It was Gerald. A frequent visitor to the shop. He staggered in adorned in a worn out hooded sweatshirt with matching sweatpants. The faded logo of the local high school football team on both pieces of attire. Heavy bags under his thirty one year old eyes. He politely waved to Vladimir as he shambled off down the far aisle. He was going the wrong way. Vladimir took the form of mist and phased through the counter, silently stalking through the shop to retrieve a large jar of crunchy peanut butter and a jar of dill pickle spears. He returned to a corporeal form as he approached Gerald, the pb and pickles hidden under his cape.

"Good evening Gerald. How does ze night find you?"

Gerald yawned loudly and rubbed his face. "Another cravings run. Of course we're out of everything Jen is craving. I'm so damn tired, forgot what I even came in here for." "I believe zis is vhat you are seeking?" Vladimir dramatically swept the cape back revealing the items. Gerald breathed a sigh of relief.

"How do you do that Vlad? You always know what I need when I walk through the doors." Vlad smiled, showing off his long fangs. "Time grants people visdom. Ve shall speak more at ze checkout." Vladimir glided on shadowy bat wings to the counter, phasing through it. Gerald slowly followed behind. "You look like you have not slept a vink in a veek Gerald. You look terrible. Is something veighing on your heart?"

Gerald sighed while trying to locate his wallet, he had forgotten to bring it. "I'm really scared about being a dad. My dad wasn't exactly the best at it. Worried I'm going to make the same mistakes."

"Vehn is ze little one arriving?"

"Any day now."

Vladimir placed his long, spindly fingers on Gerald's shoulder. He searched Gerald's heart, he was a good man, he was worried over nothing. "There is no room for fear in your heart, all I sense is love. Do not confuse the two. Allow me to pay for your items, you left your vallet in ze nursery after double checking ze safety precautions you put in place for ze new arrival." Vladimir quickly bagged the two items and slid them over the counter.

"Thanks Vlad. You always know what to say, feel like I'm going to be coming to you for advice forever."

"I hope you do. I shall always man my post during ze evenings."

Gerald exited the establishment with haste, a renewed energy in his step. Scott and Todd had entered the shop during the encounter. Local teenagers, they were unusually early this evening for their munchie run. Four forty-ounce beers, two bags of nacho cheese Doritos, and a large bag of sour patch kids. Scott looked upset, Todd wore a sly smirk.

"Sup' Vlad?" Scott said flatly.

"How does ze night find you young gentlemen?"

"Okay I guess." Scott said.

Todd laughed. "He's just butthurt cause this super hottie completely shut him down at Fred's party. He had to turn tail and run she shut him down so bad."

"Shut the fuck up bro!" Scott yelled.

"Calm down young gentlemen! No yelling in ze shop. Tell me young Scott, how did zis so called 'super hottie' spurn your advances?"

"I thought it was clever. I asked her to see if she could call my phone since my buddy borrowed it and then ghosted me. So she called it but I still had it in my pocket. So I answered it and asked if she wanted to go make out."

"You attempted to gain zis voman's love through trickery and deception?" Vladimir asked with disdain.

"Oh no, here it comes." Todd said dejectedly.

Vlad stood up tall, he towered over the two boys. "Ze first time I laid eyes on my beloved Leona she vas valking through the town square. She vas the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Or vill see. I rushed from the balcony of my manor to her side. I professed to her that my heart had gone cold from a lifetime of searching for a companion, but her visage caused an eruption of passion so fierce that Vesuvius was put to shame. Zhat together ve vould conquer ze heavens, ze earth, and anything else that lies beyond."

Todd backhanded Scott in the chest. "Told you Vlad was a pimp. You definitely would have been ridin that booty if you had his swag."

Vladimir quickly scanned the items and completed the transaction, visions of his beloved Leona ran in his mind. "Sorry about your rejection young Scott. Enjoy your youth vile it persists. You shall find love one day. Todd I really can't say ze same for you. Good evening young gentlemen.


Robysto7 t1_irp477i wrote

As the two young men left the high toned modern klaxon rang out again. Vladimir sighed, he wanted a period of quiet to lament his beloved Leona. It was only Brian, Vladimir procured three packs of cigarettes and rang them up. "Evening Vlad may I please have three packs of....oh shit thanks." Brian placed the rest of his items on the counter. A two liter of mountain dew, a neopolitan ice cream sandwich, and a bag of flaming hot cheetos.

"Good evening Brian, how does ze night find you?"

"Kinda shitty, the new patch ruined everything. My main got completely nerfed into the ground, been on a losing streak since this morning. Chat's chill about it though and the donos have been good so I really shouldn't complain. Why would they nerf Crimson's sweep distance, it was already mid-tier if anything you would nerf....." As Brian rambled on two more people in hooded sweatshirts slunk into the shop. Vladimir sensed their ill intentions. He placed his hands on Brian's shoulders and stared into his eyes.

"Brian you are going to go lie down in ze employee break room and take a nap. Vile you slumber you vill have a most amazing dream. It vill solve this little problem you are having. You shall not vake from ze dream until I summon you."

"Yes my master." Brian disappeared into the break room behind the counter. Vladimir called out to the two people roaming the aisles of the shop.

"Good evening lady and gentleman. Is there anything I can do to assist you this evening?" "Give us all the money in the register and the safe! Now!" The gunman yelled. Vladimir smiled. He put his hands up and spread his black bat like wings out. "Take your best shots. Better assassins than you have tried."

Gunfire erupted, the two glocks were modified with giggle switches, they emptied their clips quickly. A swarm of bats surrounded the two robbers, every shot they fired missed. Vladimir reformed from the swarm and gently touched the female robbers lips. She removed her hood and pulled her mask down, her face pockmarked and scarred. She was frozen. Vlad did the same to her accomplice, he followed suit. The same pockmarked visage. Vlad floated behind the woman and smelled her hair, smelled like cigarettes. He opened wide and placed his fangs on her neck. Thunder clapped. The lights in the shop went out. Red emergency lights bathed the shop in crimson light. Vladimir floated behind the man and placed his hands on his shoulders. The man's heart was filled with conflict. He needed a good scare.

"Your partner vas beautiful once, vasn't she?" Vlad asked.

"She still is." The robber was compelled to tell the truth.

"I'm going to feast on her blood, vhen I do that she shall become my slave for all eternity. Every whim, every desire of mine she vill fulfill. I shall make you vatch that, you vill be powerless to stop it. Then I vill let you go, and you vill curse god as I once did. Then you shall know true cruelty, you shall know true punishment for your greed. That is the price you must pay for intruding in my shop. I've grown fond of ze mortals here, zhey do not know my true nature. Cannot have bandits robbing me blind, I need repeat customers. Not petty thieves."

The two thieves spoke in unison. "We're sorry, we'll leave."

"And you shall not return. Or my vengeance shall be swift." Vladimir gently led the thieves out of the shop, returning them to the rainy night. He snapped his fingers. The lights came back on. "You may arise from your dream Brian!"

Brian stretched and yawned loudly as he returned to the spot he had been standing in before the attempted robbery. "So where was I? know I thought of a way around the sweep problem because the patch did charge his standing medium startup frames......"

Vladimir floated over to the slushee machine and poured himself a large cherry slushee. He listened to Brian rant, the mortals were nothing if not entertaining.


YellowBoilerSuit t1_irq42i9 wrote

So, he gave the thieves and ultimatum or he actually drained her? I couldn't tell. Otherwise this was fun :D


MilStd t1_irq6e4p wrote

“$5.99! You gotta be shitting me! I used to be able to get them for $.99 down at Barrel O’ Monkeys across the street”

“Then get them across the street… oh wait Barrel O’ Monkeys went out of business thirty years ago!” He clapped back “Probably because they didn’t sell things for what they were worth and went under!”

Jeff sneered and put another dollar on top of the $5 already on the counter. “And I’ll have my change” he folded his arms and tapped his foot petulantly like a toddler who had been told he can’t have cookies.

A man slid into the store and made his way quietly towards the beer in the back.

“Things cost what they cost. First someone has to make them, package them, ship them out to the stores, then I put them on the shelves and it’s costing me money while it sits there until you come in and purchase it. Honestly it’s a modern miracle that it only costs $5.99 in the first place. There was this grape I ate in Syria back in the old days and that had been stored in this clay pot and transported from… now where was it from again”

The man at the back came bursting up to the counter a handgun thrust forward menacingly. “Everybody be cool this is a robbery! Any of you fucking pigs move and I’ll execute every mutha fucking last one of ya!”

“Look at Tarantino over here” he chuckled “Jeff you should probably leave this to me” Jeff grabbed his things, gave a wave, and moved for the door.

“…I said don’t move!” The robber shouted. He grabbed at Jeff’s collar and yanked him backwards. Quicker that he could react the man behind the counter caught Jeff from falling and whisked him out the door. The robber stood there confused. As the store clerk came back in he was smoking and he locked the door behind him. “Ruined a perfectly good jacket doing that” he said to no one in particular. The robber unloaded his pistol into him. “Well that was rude” the smoke coming off the clerk was beginning to abate. The freshly punched hole in his shirt and chest were dry.

The robber stood there shaking. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. In and out in 60 secs. No muss no fuss. This was all wrong.

“I’m sorry” the robber said genuinely “I don’t know what I was thinking”.

“It’s ok but you can’t go around waving that thing at people. What if you had hurt Jeff? Denise would have been very sad”

“Who is Denise?” The robber ventured

“Oh that’s his long suffering girlfriend. They’ve been together on and off since high-school. She is really lovely”

“Can I just go?” He asked

“Well you could but I locked the door. I’ve also sent a text message to the sherif so I expect he’ll want to word with you. I better take that before he gets here.” He motioned towards the gun and the robber just handed it to him defeated.

“You aren’t from around here are you?”

“I’m just passing through. I ran out of money a couple of counties over but just ran out of gas a way down the road.” He was on the verge of tears.

“So you thought you’d just make a quick buck and then what?”

“Honestly I hadn’t really thought it through.”

“Well you should have filled your car up first if you had. Price of petrol these days it would have been worth more than the cash register.” The man nodded.

“So what happens now?” He asked.

“Well we can wait for the sherif to arrive. He normally plays golf on Tuesdays so he’ll be 10-15mins away. So we have some time to kill.” The robber suddenly bolted for the doors and confirming they were locked frantically searched for another exit.

“I don’t think that will help. But feel free to tire yourself out if you’d like” the clerk watched him like a snake watches a mouse that had been lowered into his cage.

“Look man you could just let me go. You don’t seem to be any worse for wear and I’m really sorry that I shot you. But no harm no foul right?”

The clerk smiled and tapped his incisor with a long finger nail. “No harm. No foul. But there was harm. I had to run Jeff outside. Couldn’t have you shooting my best customer. It’s pretty bright out and that caused me to burn. So there is some harm there. Plus you shot me and ruined my shirt. There is foul there”

“Look mister I’m really sorry about all of that and if I had known you were… what are you? A vampire?” The clerk nodded.

“I blend in so well I know”

“Ok well if I had known you were a vampire I never would have come in here. And if the sherif comes and locks me up that’ll be my third strike and I don’t think I can survive in prison again”

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that”

“You didn’t text the sherif did you”

He shook his head.


snouuons t1_irp6vee wrote

I heard the bell ring out as I swung open then door. I walked past the counter and the worker behind it, heading towards the drinks.

"Hey Greg," a raspy voice called out behind me. "Hows it going?"

"Oh same old stuff, nothing new going on. How about you?" I grabbed a soda, swiftly shutting the door to the cooler. "You're still on the night shift clearly" I turned around, my eyes taking in pale skin and black eyes.

"Well it's been my shift for the last couple of years I doubt they'll take it anytime soon." He glanced down at his hands. He didn't even look thirty so working 50 let alone 15 sounded unlikely.

"That's true" I said with a smile. I watched his tense body relax, with a smug look on his face. He was so sure in hi disguise I couldn't bare to tell him and I'm knew others felt the same. I put the bottle down, careful to avoid touching him, remembering another time when I accidentally had. He was cold and dry, an other worldly feeling had enveloped me when our skin brushed. His hand had a leathery texture that just didn't sit right with me.

"What are you doing out so late?" He glanced at me as he scanned the drink.

"Is it really that late?" I asked glancing the clock on my phone. 11:46 pm it read. "Oh I suppose it is getting dark" I looked at some of the items around me, picking up a chocolate bar, tossing it on the counter.

"Look at that, 8 dollars exactly" the voice repeated with little excitement. I placed a 10 on the counter and watched as his grey bony hands slid it off the counter and placed it into the register. He pulled 2 dollars out of the slot next to it and let it fall in front of me. I grabbed it, the bill had a crisp chill to it.

He slid the register closed with a clink and glanced up at me.

"I heard someone went missing recently, they were last spotted just down the road." I watched him tense a little, looking back down at his hands. "Oh"

"Well I'd better get home then, stay safe okay"

"Yea...sleep well, don't let the bed bugs bite" He emphasize the last word, sending a chill down my spine.

"R-right" I left the building, the feeling I was being watched not leaving me. I felt eyes drilling into my neck, burning holes. Almost painful, two small dots on the naps of my neck. No, it was painful, and it was burning. I felt those deadly cold hands wrap around my shoulders. Something stabbed into my neck. At first it burned as the venom flooded my body, then the pain faded, all my senses along with it. Maybe we shouldn't have been so nice to the vampire that had taken a liking to our little town.


JBZGem t1_irrmbm3 wrote

My mom and I pulled into the 7-11. She had gotten off late again and it was already dark and cold. I don't move as she steps out of the car.

"Come on, honey, we don't have all night," she says.

"...Is Carmilla in there?" I ask, fidgeting with my hoodie strings. I hated going in when she was there. She scared me. My mom shrugged, "Probably. Come on! She's not going to bite. She's such a sweetheart."

Knowing I can't argue with her, I get out and head to the door with her.

"Remember, don't-"

"Point anything out. I knooow." I whine.

"Welcome! Annie! Little Joanna! How are you two doing?" Carmilla asked, her smile far too big and her wave too fast. I notice red on her top lip. I squeeze my mom's hand. She pretends not to notice.

"Hi Carmilla. We're doing good! How's the night treating you?"

"Very, very well. Another late shift for you? You must be starving! I know the hospital doesn't serve anything as delicious as the junk here. I have some things coming out fresh for you." Carmilla comes out from behind the counter, teleporting 7 feet away. My mom and I flinch and I hide behind her. My mom yawns to cover up noticing the slip up then says something about needing to take a vacation. I peek out behind her. Carmilla comes back with a cardboard tray with hot dogs, a small pizza, my favorite chips, and two fountain drinks, this time taking care to move slowly.

"Ah, a vacation sounds nice. I'm too old to go anywhere that's full of sun though. I burn easily now." Carmilla says, as she rings up our food. She doesn't look much older than my 30 year old mom despite the curly white wig she wore. Her skin is pale, without any hint of a blush, and flawless except for around her eyes. They're dark like she hadn't slept and somewhat sunk in.

I also saw her fangs once last year. I had seen her drinking blood from the goat at the Harvest Festival. I had bounced my pumpkin patterned ball a little too hard against a rock and had to chase it all the way to the petting zoo area. It had landed near the pen. And she looked up as I fell on my bottom from surprise. Her arms were around the goat like she had been hugging his neck, but blood had collected on her bottom lip. She said she loved animals and had come to pet them so they wouldn't get lonely while everyone was preoccupied with the other festivities. I ran away without my ball and found parents and their friends. I told them Carmilla was a monster. They looked at each other uncomfortably until my mom said, "I saw her eating a red candy apple. The syrup was probably on her lip." But I knew what I saw, even with the adults nodding to one another and talking about how nice she was. Carmilla had given me back my ball the next time we saw her at the gas station.

My mom continues to make conversation with her. She is very nice for a monster. She always remembers what I like to eat and will sometimes give me new snacks to try for free. But she still scares me. I wish she didn't.

"Mom!" I whisper impatiently. They giggle and say goodnight. We turn to leave when the entry bell chimes and Gus walks in, almost ramming into my mom. We step back. He glowers at us and says, "You're in the way."

"Ah, Gus! How nice to see you!" Carmilla says cheerfully. Her eyes however, turn dark and scary, with no light in them at all. Gus waves her off and says, "Pack of Camels." Carmilla already has it and holds it out.

"And a Pepsi?" She asks pleasantly, her fully black eyes boring into him and her fangs pointing out. Even though I'm frozen with terror, a part of me finds it kind of funny to me to see rude old Gus go from acting like a jerk to fidgeting like me. He nods and she rings him up. He grabs his drink out of the fridge and leaves. The air is freezing and I can't move. Carmilla breaks the spell by asking if we need help.

"Oh, no thank you. We're just trying to avoid Gus. You know how he is."

"After all these years, yes, I do. He's always been an ass. Even when we were little," Carmilla says. This time, the goodbye is real and we leave.


"I know." She shushed and we get in the car. I look down at the tray in my lap and see Carmilla had included a lollipop for me.

"Why do you pretend she's not a monster when she does stuff like that?" I ask. My mom stays quiet.


Ambitious_Price_3240 t1_irqbgfd wrote

Shell had a great life. He had friendly engaging family members, work he loved, and things to do...But all that changed when he died. He reached the end of life and he was given a choice, go on to the afterlife, live in bliss, or become a vampire. On his deathbed, an old crone approached him and asked him if he wished to ascend to heaven or take the gift of eternal life as a vampire. Shell was selfish. He thought of all the lovely colorful times with family members and friends, and he made a choice. He chose the vampire's bite. Immediately after saying yes, the crone moved out of the way, and a 10000-year-old vampire, towering with black feathers and pale pasty, but slimy skin approached him quickly and the bite was done.

Shell could feel the hard, ancient teeth, yellow and old as they were, like wooden daggers in his skin. He felt the bite in his whole soul. It was like the pain entered his whole being, not just the skin, it seemed to break the fiber of his spiritual self as well.

But his selfishness was stronger than his pain, stronger than his fear. He awoke from the bite, hours later, and the crone had vanished. The vampire however remained, and in his hands was a 7-11 uniform. This is for you, he said.

A night shift, so you will not be bothered. (part 2 below)


LYDIO005 t1_irs050x wrote

The door opens on Shell's nightshift at the 7-11. The warm glow of the sun is fading in the distance, like peachy embers as the cold fluorescent lights of the store begin to flicker on against the dusk.

There is nobody here but in a few hours, teenagers will arrive with packets of gum to buy and cans of beer to conceal.

Another mouse will be caught in the humane traps that Shell has set. He doesn't even suck their blood. He lets them go a few miles away, and waits for another person to answer his personal add.

It is not exactly ethical, but he gets his meals and some extra money by sucking the blood of vampire kink enthusiasts.

Something about Buffalo attracts more Vampire fetishes than any other place. When he took the 7-11 uniform out of Barthelemew's hands he had no idea there was such a flourishing community here.

But now it all made sense-why a 10000-year-old vampire of so much status and prestige would even be here in the first place. Bartholemew's coats were velvet, leather, and black, and Shell had been to his house a few times.

The ancient vampire was quite a showboat. His boudoir was filled with beautiful masks, glitter, and sequins. He loved to wear sparkles. He sometimes made an appearance at the burlesque show hidden in a back alley. It was a perfect way for him to get out of the house. They were always at night.

Shell's modest accommodations were a bit more modern-midcentury modern to be exact. He decorated his home with a single mustard yellow chair with round lines and wood accents.

He left the original baby blue wallpaper intact, with its tiny blue flowers and original crown molding. The houses in Buffalo were old, like him, and his friend. And the dark wood and pseudo-Tudor garnishings seemed to fit him.

Every now and then he would pass a house where the original stained glass had been kept, and his pale skin against the sprinkle of rainbows was something magical to behold.

His landlord was a living woman with old creased skin and starchy, blonde hair with straw-colored bits sticking out like errant thoughts. But she never seemed to think of much other than the rent. She owned a vintage toy store that was beautiful to look at, but terribly understaffed and under-sold.

It was a brown building with red brick, and it was right underneath Shell's modest single-bedroom apartment.

The kitchen in Shell's house was old, from the 1950's. It was even pink, although completely dysfunctional and a fire hazard.

So Shell mainly got his meals from the diner across the street, which served burnt eggs and kind faces alamode.

He left his house every day at dusk, and like clockwork, made his way to the diner to eat his burnt eggs and a bit slimy ham before his shift at the 7-11 mart.

He sometimes thought of his family, what were they up to? What do they do now? He made his choice to become a vampire because of them, but now he never saw them.

They were just a memory in his head. His deal with the devil he made out of lust for the past, and he never even got to experience it.

When the vampirism overtook his body, he knew he would not see them again.


There was something about the peaceful night-job that bolstered his solitary spirit. It left room for him to grow. The routine of the door opening, the cash register tinging, and the oddly consistent customer base was fortifying to his moldy soul.

Since the vampire bite Shell noticed a distinct moldy, decay to his essence. His interior world, warm and exuberant as a human, was now dank, gray, and strange, like the interior of an old basement.

He looked inside, trying to find the warm memories of the past, but his hands blankly felt the black, hollow space. And his mind only touched the glowing philia of mushrooms and other sickly sweet underground creatures.

He sometimes held his hands up to his heart, and he could still feel the echos of the yellowing wooden teeth there.

The bite echoed in the chambers of his spiritual architecture. Only the cold glow of the store and the routine seemed to bolster in the echo of that blast.

There was one woman, who came in the store ever night, however, who seemed to be able to cut through the dank, gray, slime of the newly minted vampire's essence.

Her name was Sheila, and she was a beleaguered primary school teacher who lived in one of the TV Ad apartments only a block away from the store. She always came in with gray sweatpants and a pink sweatshirt with a teddy bear embroidered on the front.

Sheila was single and alone as well. Her life was mainly her job at the preschool.

"Always liked kids growing up so I made it my life" She said.


AECorvius t1_irva0g9 wrote

"Evening, Jonah. You're here a bit later than usual." Cameron's voice was tinged with concern.

"Aye, bit of bad news I'm afraid. Ol' Man Edwards was found dead on the Western Trail. Think he got hit by a mountain lion." Jonah's quiet sigh caused Cameron's death white face to pale considerably.

"Tim's dead?"

That was just another sign of Cameron's immortality. Everyone knew the truth, but no one ever outright asked or told Cameron that they knew. The "guesses" got more and more outlandish, but they kept the quiet little community in high spirits. Some claimed Cameron was the spitting image of his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather who'd been running the night shift at the town's 7-11. Some claimed he was a genetically enhanced super soldier with an unnatural lifespan. Some even claimed he was an elf, capable of living for over a thousand years. But everyone knew. Cameron was a vampire. A silent protector who kept all criminals out of the quiet little town. He also fended odd the supernatural entities that the cops struggled against.

But the biggest clue was his friendship with Tim Edwards. Tim was the town's old man, living there since he was born. And in his entire lifetime, he never allowed anyone but Cameron to call him Tim since his return from 'Nam.

Jonah nodded as he reached up to shortly scratch at the bald spot he had inherited from his dad's side of the family, "Strange though. He had his 30-ought with him. And it didn't scare away a mountain lion."

Cameron tilted his head to the side as he took a step forward. Normally, stepping forward like that would bump into the edge of the counter. But Cameron glided theough it like a hot knife through butter.

"I know that you're not an investigator and if anyone else caught wind of me asking you, but I heard through grandpa that he called upon your Daddy a time or two. I'd like to ask you to take a look and keep that tradition going."

Cameron's lips turned up in a smile, causing his face to turn creepy as Jonah tried not to grimace, "It'd be my pleasure."

Those simple words told Jonah that whoever... or whatever... had killed Tim Edwards wouldn't be alive by the end of the night. And that terrified Jonah more than whatever Cameron truly was.


Background_Ad2274 t1_irqg0u7 wrote

(couldn't resist making this into a "comedy" type thing, not just for the joke, but because I was watching B99)

Dear Diary:So everyone knows by this point that Vampireson McVampire is, well a vampire, I mean, Fist of all, he was like 90 years old when he started working in the store, and he has been working there for like 50 years or so, I mean, kind of a red flag there.Second of all His name is Vampireson McVampire, like, who has THAT name, It's ridiculous.Or the time he drank a whole bottle of ketchup and said "hey! this isn't blood" just to correct himself and assure that "he didn't drink blood, because only a vampire would do such a thing, and he wasn't one"And, well, the fact that he has already transformed into a vampire, and I've watched him sucking the blood out of rats behind the store (and Jeffree, but nobody liked him).But, In all seriousness, Mr McVampire Is not a bad person, he has been Employee of the Month for 47 years consecutively, and by this point, everyone knows him and he is truly one of the most liked people in this town.The other day, I forgot my wallet at home, and he just gave me my Doritos and sprite "on the house" because he is THAT kind of good old man.The problem is that Ms Williams (who's such a Karen BTW) called the vampire hunters, and no one has the heart to rat out Mr McVampire.I mean, he's pretty harmless, he wouldn't hurt a fly, a rat maybe, but a fly, never.Even Mr Williams is mad at her, because who in the world would do such a thing to a man so sweet?And now, the guys and I are thinking of a plan to save Mr McVampire, because even though he thinks he "hides it well" we all know he does not.

(Edit: Spelling)


NotCohenNotBrothers t1_is3dsj5 wrote


Seeking mature, responsible unique individuals who are nocturnally-oriented.

I run a small business and am searching for strong, loyal, reliable workers. Please call 555-112-6660 after 9pm. Resumes may be submitted online or in person. Please add a page with personal "needs" highlighted so we can accommodate all situational eccentricities."

I turned towards my girlfriend. "I don't know honey, what do you think about this one?"

She laughed in my face. "Dude, read between the lines--it's PERFECT. Where's the store located?

I read on the backpage ad a bit further. "Oh! It says 'Multiple Locations Need Staffing'! Maybe there's one nearby?"

Amanda drifted up and looked over my shoulder. "Shit, dude, maybe we could both get hired! That could solve so many problems for us!" Her eyes welled up.

"I know, honey. I know. I'll start feeling this guy out, let me call him tonight."

"Baby--it's a full moon. You can't. Just shoot him a text or email and send your resume. Tell him you're out of town, or something. Get your foot in the door, ya know?"

I looked at Amanda. As usual, she was right. I stood up from the kitchen table and began locking the doors and closing the shutters. I was still young and occasionally got caught by surprise. "Can you manage the chains, darling?" I asked. Amanda lifted both hands up in an "I don't know" gesture.

"If you want to be 100% sure, do it yourself, dearest."

I kissed her on the nose and told her I'd see her in the morning. I headed down into the basement. I bolted the door behind me.

When I woke the next morning, Amanda was unusually chipper. She began to speed-talk. She does this when she's excited.

"So, remember that store? The one looking for "nocturnals"? Well, I kept thinking about it and while you were locked in the basement, I called the man! HE TOTALLY WANTS TO TALK TO US!!!!"

She jumped up and down in her excitement. "Victor, he sounds SO COOL!" He says he'll see you after 9, but as for me, you're talking to the Midnight Manager of Location 87!"

I hugged Amanda, as best as I could, anyway. "Congratulations, darling! I'm so happy for you! I'm so proud of you!!!"

She was ecstatic. I could see it in her eyes, and that night she floated up to the ceiling half a dozen times. She does that when she's happy. I was happy for her. I felt guilty she'd been trapped in this house for so many years, she needed to get out and get her own money and meet some friends.

"I can't wait to take you to your first night of work! Maybe we should go shopping? Get you a new outfit?"

"Victor, what's wrong with my outfit?"

"Nothing! Honey! Nothing! I'm sorry, I just thought....I's gorgeous! You're gorgeous.....I.........." I faded off.

I'm sure her clientele would love to see a Victorian bride while picking up their hotdogs and beer in the middle of the night.


robertroquemore t1_irrjf08 wrote

He was never a fan of sunlight. He was nocturnal from the time when he understood what that meant. That was why his parents signed him up for night school at the age of 6. That was also why he made it a priority to finish school, even if he had to do it online!

The job at 7-11 had sustained him through community college and his online courses. After his undergrad days, it took a lot of saving and planning, but he finally bought his own franchise. This made it easier to keep a low profile but still make a living. His place was only a few blocks from the store, and none of his employees minded the fact that he preferred the graveyard shift.

The only night he insisted on having off every year was Halloween, which his shift manager turned into an all-night Halloween bash! No one ever questioned his lifestyle, since he trained more than 100 managers and 20 franchise owners during his 50 year career. The franchise had been good to him, and he knew almost every face that came into his store.

The year came that an apartment building next door was leveled, and a large Catholic church was built in its place. There was talk about his retirement, and his shift managers seemed to be getting more and more Catholic customers. While almost none of the catholic customers came during the night, a young priest had been seen standing on the church steps and praying toward the 7-11. Each time this happened, about once a week, the owner was usually not at work.

As the years went by, the young priest moved up to the next priest to take over the parish. He was now praying every night, around midnight, on the church steps. The franchise owner had tried to dissuade him, but the neighborhood always sided with the priest and the parish, which had opened up a parochial school, and offered quality education for reasonable rates. The parish was thriving, and the owner seemed to have been forgotten.

After being there for 20 years, the church transformed the seedy neighborhood to a safe haven for young families. The 7-11 was bought out by one of the church members, and became the new parish headquarters. An article appeared in the local paper, noting the changing of the neighborhood. Next to that article was another article about several other 7-11 franchises that had moved into scary parts of town. All were owned by the same man who started that corner 7-11.

The priest was now the parish director. He made plans to open up churches and schools near each of these new 7-11 locations. Eventually, the priest was seen praying on the steps of each church or school until the day he died. However, the habit of midnight mass caught on at every Catholic building across the world. No one knew what happened to the nocturnal man who started his business at that corner, but every 7-11 that was even within sight of a Catholic ministry was soon bought out by church members. The entire chain began to help transform neighborhoods across the world, because of the simple prayers of one man!


[deleted] t1_isvbhpk wrote

“Did you see what she did yesterday?”

“Fuck, what now?”

“She wore a crucifix necklace. And she kept telling everyone she was going to the fucking Garlic festival this weekend.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

“Did anyone say anything?”

“A few of the regulars, Veronica and Bill, complimented her on the necklace and asked her what kind of dishes she makes with garlic. And we know why they asked. They love her stories. Always like to see how far she’ll go. Bill told me that’s why he doesn’t report her. And he thinks she’s hot.”

“What did she say to them?”

“She told Bill she was blushing when he complimented her on the crucifix.”

“Which if course she wasn’t blushing. Because, hello, she’s a fucking vampire. What did she say about the garlic?”

“You’re going to love this one.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah. And this one is one of her best ones--she also said she makes a special garlic lotion, which is why she’s going to the garlic festival. To get more garlic so she can make more lotion because it’s expensive to buy online.”

“Come the fuck on.”

“It gets better. She then puts her hands to her face and told Veronica the lotion is what gives her such a fare, but youthful complexion. And of course, she is smiling, doing her trying-to-look-innocent-look. Veronica almost spit out her Icee.”

“Let me guess. She smiled the smile she does trying hide her fangs, the smile where it just looks like she’s got a painful sore under her lip?”


“Doesn’t she know how terrible the stories are that she makes? I mean, highlighting the very things that are supposed to ward away vampires? Come on.”

“She scares the shit out of me.”

“She’s worked at this 7-11 for more than fifty years, so they say. Two of those years, with you as the manager. You should talk to her, I dunno, about like life and shit. Maybe you’ll see she’s not so scary.”

“I can’t do it. Then I form a connection with her. Plus, she’d kill me in the wild.”

“You think?”


“She’s a vampire that works at a 7-11, who puts a ton of time trying to hide she’s not a vampire. Pretty sure that she wouldn’t kill you in the wild.”

“You don’t know that. We don’t know shit about her prior life. Why of all the things she could be doing with her time, she works at 7-11? Probably stalks customers, follows them home, feeds on them, and mind wipes them or some shit like that.”

“That’s intense. But then why does she go through all the trouble of trying to hide she’s vampire, and do a terrible job at it?”

“To make people let their guard down so she can kill them?”

“If she wanted to kill people, she’d just do it. You said it yourself. Plenty of other shit she could be doing other than working at a 7-11 and spending her time making up terrible stories to try to hide her true self.”

“Whatever the reason is, it can’t be good. Sometimes I’d wish she’d quit. Fat chance though, as she’s been working here for damn fifty-years.”

“But you’ve told me before you have a soft spot for her. I’m confused you’d want her to quit.”

“I said sometimes I wish. And the fact she just tries so hard to blend in and fails miserably, I got a soft spot for that. Reminds me of when I tried so hard to be cool in high school and failed miserably. Second reason is she is also a great employee. And she’s been working here for more than fifty-years! Who am I to fuck that up?”

“Better employee than me?”

“Way better than you.”

“Dang, at least lie to me.”

“Well shit, she never makes the excuse that she can’t rearrange the back storage because the lift dolly needs fixing when I ask her.”

“That dolly is a piece of shit. Breaks all the time on me.”

“She doesn’t even need the dolly because she has super strength, that’s my point. Which scares me even more.”

“I still think you should just chat with her. She isn’t so bad.”

“Speaking of shit employees, I just remembered I forgot to tell her tomorrow she needs to work Saturday for Harold because another one his grandmas died again. That dude. Doesn’t he remember it’s like the fifth grandma that has died since he’s worked here, for less than a year? Almost as bad as that vampire’s stories.”

“Won’t she get pissed at you and rip your head off for dropping that on her last minute?”

“She asked me to come to her for any open shifts first, so I do. She says she’ll cover any shift at any time.”




“You ‘hmmed’ a certain way when I told you she told me to go to her for covering shifts.”

“Did she tell you why she does that?”

“Tells me she can cover any shift?”


“No. She told me to go to her, I didn’t ask why. I don’t want to know shit about the vampire’s personal life. Maybe she needs the money or something.”

“I ask, because she told me the same thing, to go to her first if I need a shift covered. And she gave me a reason too. Like she made sure to emphasize the reason.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me she doesn’t really do much, other than make wooden stakes to sell online to vampire hunters.”

“Oh wow. Just full on said that she makes stakes for vampire hunters. Like, really?”


“Wow, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m not.”

“No, not that. She just text me and said she needs to get off work early tomorrow.”

“Did she say why?”

“She said she forgot to tell me she’s getting baptized.”

“Fuck me.”


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Avalon_88 OP t1_irqthli wrote

The original prompt was supposed to be "You come into work for 30 years, but as time passes your colleagues look at you in horror. And you realize you haven't aged at all."

But I felt like that was a bit too abstract so I switched it up to this easier to digest subject.


Hagisman t1_irpok4j wrote

Reminds me of “Life Sucks” graphic novel about a guy who gets turned into a vampire to work the night shift of a 7-11 type store. Proceeds to meet a goth woman who fantasizes about vampires, not realizing the true mundanity of it all. great read if you can find a copy.


Geometronics t1_irpnr3e wrote

I'm not a big fan of these long specific writing prompts.