Holy cow, someone other then Edge is posting! LOL Not really, just entering a response we received from the Inspiration Tag on the 7th of June from a reader. Edge and I were both happy to see such an enthusiastic response and are looking forward to more of the Cilla’s work. So… on with the show….

“They could have been stars, those tiny pinpricks of light in the darkness. But they weren’t, they were somethin’ much less peaceful. They were vent holes for hundreds of underground tunnels.”

“Vent holes?” came the question she always asked. She loved the story of Blood Mountain almost as much as she loved to hear the old man beside her spin it. He had a knack for storytelling, and a mind full of adventure.

“Vent holes really. They needed air flow, so they drilled six-inch holes along the passages. Seen just right, the light escapin’ resembled a starlight sky…helped ‘em hide their presence for decades. Helped ‘em feed in secret.”

The chill was familiar to Steph but it still raised goosebumps. “Go on, Grandpa.” She could tell the story herself, but he enthralled her with it. Jed Thomas was an entertainer if not by trade then by nature, and Steph adored every story he had ever told.

“When we realized what and who we were dealin’ with, it took several days of plottin’ and figurin’. Finally somethin’ of a plan come together. “ Jed took a moment…..more for effect than for himself.

“The next night we staked out a spot lookin’ onto the mountain and watched for the last stragglers to come in for the day. It was a nervous business, mind ya, hopin’ they don’t smell ya or sense ya or whatever it was they did. So as we’re up there just waitin’, ‘ol Tommy Jestin was drivin’ a gas truck up to the top of Blood Mountain….it was Blind Mountain back then. Our plan ya’ see was to burn ‘em out. Pure genius we thought……Dumbest thought I ever had in this ol’ head of mine. They smelled the gas long before it got there…..killed Tommy and most o’ the townfolk outta revenge………”

She lost him for a moment, as he was pulled back into the memory of the bloodbath that followed. According to all the news articles she had ever read it was supposedly the work of one or more homicidal maniacs yet to be apprehended. Only the people that lived through it knew exactly how horrific that night had become. They had dragged their victims into the tunnels and done things that literally made the blood from numerous men, women, children, pets, and even livestock flow in small streams down the mountainside. Steph had read anything she had ever found written about this town and the only thing everyone agrees on is the grotesque pleasure that had urged them forward in their killing spree. No one seems to even agree or know who or what was capable of such an impassioned rage. But Jed and a few others know, deep in the dark parts of their soul where even they don’t want to admit it , they know exactly what it was. It was the very thing that arouses fear and a little excitement in Steph’s heart. They were vampires.

Frank was a patient man, but this was beginning to infuriate even him. If they only knew how delightfully easy it would be to snap their necks. He could do it one by one and know one would stop him. No one man could. Twenty would slow him done but only for a second. He grinned….the sheer power was one of the good things about being “cursed” with this gift. The heightened senses were also very useful when one hides for survival. He has had more names than relationships and more lovers than names. Both his names and his lovers were simple and easy. The only thing in life that ever gave Frank cold sweats was the thought of a relationship. He had made a life out of web-work and secrecy, he lived in a house everyone thought abandoned and he was part of a past everyone thought had vanished. All the centuries Frank had survived had taught him one thing…..never feed where you live. That kernel of true had allowed him to be an outsider as all the others ravaged and slaughtered the town that had tried to rub them out. He had been two towns over in a tavern picking his prey. After the officials realized the extent of the “murders” the heat had been on. He had purchased his house privately because of it, the owners were city people now and could care less if it fell down. The town had become known as a place of bad things past and present; most who survived the past chose to be elsewhere for the present. Very few still lived here. It had almost become a brand new town except for the rumors and stories of the crazy killer. He grinned even bigger when he thought of how ignorant the human race could be in the face of fear. He didn’t care how long they ignored him he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Here you are, sir. It seems we lost you in our system, somehow.” The teller had a truly perplexed look, like she really had no inkling as to how it had happened. She did recover nicely though as she counted out sixteen thousand dollars.

“I hadn’t realized it was possible to lose an account and not even know its missing,” he said gently reminding her they had thought him to be the crazy one. He knew that the account hadn’t even existed until eleven o’clock this morning. That was one of many talents he had refined over the years. You had to know the system in order to tweak it to your favor. He had been part of it long enough to know the system very, very well. For the last fifty or so years he had lived off what he liked to call “cyber-money”. He simply created the account to look fine, withdrew the money, and shagged ass before the system caught up. A thing of true beauty he liked to say.

“…sixteen thousand. May I help you with anything else today, Mr. Daniels?”, she said as she looked up from the pile of cash on the desk in her office. She would quit and runaway with him if he asked. For that much money she’d runaway with Frankenstein.

“No I believe we’re through here. Thank you”, as he rose out of his chair she realized that with a body like that he was far from Frankenstein. He knew she was watching him leave, every woman did. He strode tall, dark and proud out to his car fully aware that all eyes were on him. As he pulled from the curb he headed toward his favorite night spot. It was also the only one in town, an all-wood tavernesque bar on Main Street. It was the kind of place you’d see in the woods by a lake, not slapped in the middle of a bookstore and salon. As he entered the bar he was assaulted with the cigar/beer stench, and the sound of too many people and not enough space. It was dark and loud just perfect for being invisible. As he sat at a table he thought of finding a vacationer or party girl and call it a night. He smiled and scanned the crowd for fresh meat.