New York’s shop windows are twinkling with lights and decorated inside with unwrapped presents.
It was a bad storm, and the howling gales were pushing and bullying the timid boat further from the land, and out to sea. The men were frightened. Margaret tried to hold onto the side of the boat, but her hand went right through the wood.
What was that? She thought she saw a turtle being manhandled by the waves, but she wasn’t sure. She looked around for the men on the boat, but the sheets of rain obscured her vision.
It was an awful stormy night, but as time went by, the wind and waves ceded somewhat and became less fierce. Margaret became less and less fearful. She even started skipping around the boat and wondering if they were going to see Santa. She saw several fish in the water and tried to catch one.
And then she started singing seafaring songs. “Margaret and her crew put out to sea, the name of the boat was Binky. The winds blew up, her bows dipped down, but she held fast, for the Captain of the boat was the mighty Maggie.”
She wasn’t that good at rhyming, but that never stopped her before. She liked to rhyme. And whenever her aunt Nancy from California called, they would have rhyming contests.
She sang a few more songs and then she started wondering if she would see a whale or a mermaid? She wouldn’t mind riding on the back of either.
What was that? What a strange looking fish.
Margaret cried out to the fish, in a cheerful voice, “Hello my friend… what nasty weather we’re having.”
She knew that a smile and a gentle word became a doorway, not a wall. That’s what her mom taught her.
She thought the fish was going to talk back. This was such a magical world that she was in. But the fish didn’t say anything.
She knew though, that sometimes the loudest thing you can say is nothing at all.
That’s what her dad told her mom.
Margaret, trying to get a better look, leaned too far over the side of the boat, and fell into the water. To her surprise she could swim. She swam over to the strange looking fish. It was brightly colored, and the fish’s stocky body, large head, and sunken wide eyes had Margaret baffled. Its cheeks puffed in and out, and it kept going round and round in circles. Out of nowhere a bigger fish tried to gobble Margaret up, but she was too fast, and the bigger fish missed.
All those games of playing dodgeball really paid off.
Margaret noticed a star streaking across the sky and waved to it. She saw one last year and her mom told her, “It’s just an Angel waving to you.”
And then she saw something walking on the water.
The men saw it also and one cried out, “It’s a ghost.”
But it wasn’t a ghost. It was a Man. And Margaret saw Him before. It was the Healer.
You can go to Amazon.com and read free samples. Type in John Saccone and the books will magically appear.
The Christmas Tree series are thrilling holiday adventures filled with magic, mystery, and historical wonders. Margaret and her best friend Billy embark on a series of extraordinary journeys through time and space, all thanks to the magical Christmas Tree given to her by the mysterious Mr. Magi.
Each decoration on the tree holds a secret, unlocking enchanted worlds, historical events, and even encounters with legendary figures. From the bustling streets of ancient Rome to mystical lands filled with elves and Hrinoffs, Margaret and Billy’s adventures bring them face-to-face with awe-inspiring and sometimes perilous experiences.
Along the way, they uncover hidden lessons about courage, friendship, and the true meaning of the holiday spirit.
Blending holiday magic with time-traveling excitement, The Christmas Tree series is a heartwarming and imaginative tale perfect for readers of all ages who believe in the wonder of Christmas and the power of adventure. And most importantly the power of Almighty God.
New York’s Christmas is decorated with the Holiday Spirit. In full bloom… it is quite a sight to behold.
A bouquet of excitement that dazzles the mind and uplifts the Soul.
Margaret was teleported to a place where there was a huge crowd. All the men had beards and were wearing sandals. It was a very humid and sunny day, and Margaret felt like she was frying.
She could feel the rumbling of her disquieted nerves and tried to calm herself down.
Her mind snapped, crackled and popped with varying degrees of awe and wonder.
She started looking around for Santa and the Elves. She tried asking the women and children that were there, but no one could hear or see her.
And then she saw Him. He was the same Man that she saw last Christmas. He always had crowds around Him. And then she saw something that she couldn’t believe.
A woman, barely able to walk, and being helped, started jumping up and down after He touched her. She was so excited that she started screaming, “I’m cured, I’m cured.”
A man, who couldn’t move his arm, was touched by Him. And he started waving his arm around and shaking people’s hands and patting them on the back.
A little girl, who was blind, was touched by Him, and she now saw her mother for the first time. As the light and the world started pouring into her eyes, you could hear her amazement in her joyous screams. The little girl was so excited and curious that she wanted to see everything all at once. It looked like her head was swiveling round and round.
She reminded Margaret of the library in her neighborhood. It had a globe of the world inside that swiveled round and round. The little girl’s mother was also excited and grateful. Through tears she started praising the Man that gave her daughter back her eyesight.
Margaret wondered if the Man would be able to help her friend Lucy. She was also blind.
There was a little boy, who was being held and dragged by three men, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs. When the Man touched him, three darkened figures leaped out of him, and descended into the ground beneath them.
There were a few people in the audience that were so fearful of the spectacle that they started running away. But not the little boy. He knelt down at the feet of the Man. And the three men that accompanied him, his father and two uncles, also prostrated themselves at the feet of the Healer.
Margaret and the crowd just stood there and watched and watched. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. He was curing everyone that came to Him. People in the crowd started rejoicing. Margaret started rejoicing. And that reminded her of last year when she started rejoicing with the man in the chariot.
At the time, her adventurous spirit overcame her weaker nature. It would not allow itself to be enslaved by her fears.
For what are cowardly idiosyncrasies that make up our lives but impediments…
You can go to Amazon.com and read free samples. Type in John Saccone and the books will magically appear.
The Christmas Tree series are thrilling holiday adventures filled with magic, mystery, and historical wonders. Margaret and her best friend Billy embark on a series of extraordinary journeys through time and space, all thanks to the magical Christmas Tree given to her by the mysterious Mr. Magi.
Each decoration on the tree holds a secret, unlocking enchanted worlds, historical events, and even encounters with legendary figures. From the bustling streets of ancient Rome to mystical lands filled with elves and Hrinoffs, Margaret and Billy’s adventures bring them face-to-face with awe-inspiring and sometimes perilous experiences.
Along the way, they uncover hidden lessons about courage, friendship, and the true meaning of the holiday spirit.
Blending holiday magic with time-traveling excitement, The Christmas Tree series is a heartwarming and imaginative tale perfect for readers of all ages who believe in the wonder of Christmas and the power of adventure. And most importantly the power of Almighty God.
Vernon was in the forest, perched on top of a tree. He wasn’t alone. He was holding hands with his girlfriend Bettice, and they were reminiscing about the school dance and what a wonderful time they had. All of a sudden, a projectile flew past Vernon’s head.
“What was that?” asked Bettice.
“I don’t know,” said Vernon, looking around.
The second snowball didn’t miss. Vernon was hit by the snowball, and it knocked him and Bettice off the branch, and on the way down, they hit a few other branches.
Vernon’s teenage elf friends, noticing what happened, came running to Vernon’s defense.
“Why did you do that?” asked an angry Vernon, while menacingly looking at the Hrinoffs.
“Can you please get off of me,” said Bettice. Vernon landed right on top of her.
“You’ve been challenged to a home building contest,” said Hrinoff Remoulie. “Do you accept?”
Vernon didn’t know what to say. He never built a real house before. Only snow houses. He pulled his teenage elfin friends aside, and they conferred about building the house. One thing was certain… None of them knew how to build a house. But not knowing something, wasn’t enough of a deterrent. That never stopped Vernon and his friends before. That just added to the challenge.
And he already felt embarrassed because he landed on top of his girlfriend and he didn’t even thank her for breaking his fall. That showed bad manners on his part.
He didn’t want Bettice to also think that he wasn’t a good homebuilder. It was a matter of pride.
Vernon and his teenage friends accepted the challenge.
Bettice, excited and proud of Vernon because he accepted the challenge, gave him a kiss on his cheek. His cheeks turned a bright cheery cherry red. The rest of his face was the color of a very ripe tomato.
You can go to Amazon.com and read free samples. Type in John Saccone and the books will magically appear.
The Christmas Tree series are thrilling holiday adventures filled with magic, mystery, and historical wonders. Margaret and her best friend Billy embark on a series of extraordinary journeys through time and space, all thanks to the magical Christmas Tree given to her by the mysterious Mr. Magi.
Each decoration on the tree holds a secret, unlocking enchanted worlds, historical events, and even encounters with legendary figures. From the bustling streets of ancient Rome to mystical lands filled with elves and Hrinoffs, Margaret and Billy’s adventures bring them face-to-face with awe-inspiring and sometimes perilous experiences.
Along the way, they uncover hidden lessons about courage, friendship, and the true meaning of the holiday spirit.
Blending holiday magic with time-traveling excitement, The Christmas Tree series is a heartwarming and imaginative tale perfect for readers of all ages who believe in the wonder of Christmas and the power of adventure. And most importantly the power of Almighty God.
Christmas is the time for magical adventures and awesome gifts.
Margaret knew she wasn’t lying, but how could she prove it to Billy. She did go on great adventures all the time. Maybe the Angel would allow her to take him along?
“If I take you with me, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Do you promise?”
“What?”
“You have to promise,” said Margaret again, “not to tell anyone. Do you promise?”
“Alright,” said Billy reluctantly, “I promise.”
Billy got a broom and placed it between his legs.
“I didn’t know you were a witch Margaret,” said Billy mockingly. “Hop on! Where are we going?”
Margaret took the broom from Billy, and in a low tone she said, “We have to wait until my mom goes to the bathroom. This way she can’t see us on the Maggie cam.”
Margaret ran into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator door and handed her mom a bottle of water.
“That is so sweet of you,” said mom. “I could use some water. And let me get you a bottle also. Water is good for you.”
Margaret and Billy waited and waited for Diane to come out of the kitchen. It seemed like forever.
“This is so boring,” said Billy. He wanted to throw another very soft building block at Margaret. He picked one up.
“You have to be patient,” said Margaret. “We’re going to find Santa and Mrs. Claus and the elves.”
Billy started laughing. He thought Margaret was eating too many donuts and candy. She had a sugar high.
Diane brought Emma into the living room and put her in the playpen. She then went to the bathroom. Margaret sprang into action. She taped the drumstick to the broom and grabbed Billy’s hand and tapped the Angel on top of the Tree.
Margaret and Billy were teleported into an ancient city. Billy was so frightened that he screamed, “Where are we?”
Margaret laughed. “Don’t be a scaredy cat. I’ll protect you.”
“I’m not a scaredy cat. I don’t even like cats. Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” said Margaret. “But we’re here to find Santa and Mrs. Claus and the elves.”
“I want to go home,” said Billy, looking around at the strange men, who all wore beards and most had sandals on.
“Don’t be scared,” said Margaret confidently.
“Let’s go home!”
“Why are you holding onto my hand so tightly? These people can’t see or hear us. Look at this.”
Margaret walked right through a sheep that was in front of them. She then started doing backflips and somersaults. Billy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He had to be asleep and dreaming. He pinched himself.
“That hurt,” said Billy.
“What happened? Asked Margaret, walking slowly and looking around for Santa.
“Nothing,” said Billy. Still wondering if he was asleep and dreaming.
As Margaret and Billy continued walking, he let go of Margaret’s hand. He started feeling safer and started doing backflips and somersaults. He always wanted to do a cartwheel but never could. And now he could do them easily. He started running back and forth and couldn’t believe how fast he could run. He even ran through people.
He tried to run through Margaret, but they both collided and fell to the ground.
“Can you please be careful,” said Margaret, picking herself up from the floor, and brushing herself off.
You can go to Amazon.com and read free samples. Type in John Saccone and the books will magically appear.
The Christmas Tree series are thrilling holiday adventures filled with magic, mystery, and historical wonders. Margaret and her best friend Billy embark on a series of extraordinary journeys through time and space, all thanks to the magical Christmas Tree given to her by the mysterious Mr. Magi.
Each decoration on the tree holds a secret, unlocking enchanted worlds, historical events, and even encounters with legendary figures. From the bustling streets of ancient Rome to mystical lands filled with elves and Hrinoffs, Margaret and Billy’s adventures bring them face-to-face with awe-inspiring and sometimes perilous experiences.
Along the way, they uncover hidden lessons about courage, friendship, and the true meaning of the holiday spirit.
Blending holiday magic with time-traveling excitement, The Christmas Tree series is a heartwarming and imaginative tale perfect for readers of all ages who believe in the wonder of Christmas and the power of adventure. And most importantly the power of Almighty God.
Isn’t it strange how life’s good fortunes can change in an instant and our lives be shattered in that moment.
Life!
That’s what they gave me. That sentence was five years ago. And every day since I’ve been in prison I come up with a different scenario. A different story.
It helps to ease my mind.
Sometimes I ride off into the sunset, a happy man.
Sometimes I meet a beautiful young woman at a club. And we fall madly in love.
Sometimes I just forgive May and Jeffrey.
Sometimes I don’t even find the soap dish. And May and I spend the rest of our lives together in wedded bliss.
There are so many variations of the truth. And some fools even believe it’s subjective. But the truth is… there is only one truth.
After I saw the photos of May and Jeffrey naked and in bed, I grabbed a hold of one of Jeffrey’s golf clubs, from his golf club bag that he had in the closet and slowly descended the stairs.
A sea of emotions clouded my thoughts, and blinding anger bathed my mind. It flooded my better judgement.
We are taught from the cradle to become echoes and choose routine and familiarity over risks.
We are taught to cheer and clap for others.
We are taught to laugh with the laugh track… and we don’t even realize it.
We are groomed to be followers.
Perhaps if I would have stayed a sheep, I would have chosen a different path. But I was sculpted over time to repay a wound with an injury.
And people like me… we don’t turn the other cheek.
When Jeffrey saw me, he said laughingly, “Are you going to play golf?”
I must have had a crazed look on my face. He immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
I remember listening to a preacher, and he said, “The road to God’s Heavenly Kingdom is fraught with danger. Don’t lose Eternity for what amounts to not even a second in this world.”
Thou Shalt Not Kill.
I pulled the car over and started crying. I never cry. It seemed to me that through my tears I was rinsing out the darkness. The poison.
Since I was a little boy… I always prayed to Jesus for help.
My mom taught me, Mt. 11: 28–30 “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is comfortable, and My burden is light.”
I finally arrived at the hotel and registered.
I was feeling better. Much better.
I don’t know why but praying and driving has always been very therapeutic for me. It calms me down.
I went upstairs and started retrieving important papers that I needed. And my charger.
As I was leaving May was pleading with me to forgive her. I had already forgiven her. I did forgive her. But how could I ever trust her again? Our marriage was over.
She was on the phone with Jeffrey begging him to come over and talk some sense into me. That they were both sorry. It happened a long time ago.
I felt like grabbing a hold of May and choking the life out of her.
I didn’t.
I took her cell phone away and flung it across the room. It went through the window.
She was so startled by that and the glass window breaking, that she cowered in front of the door and put her hands up to cover her face. She thought I was going to strike her.
I smiled at her contemptuously and pushed her out of my way. And left.
That story sounds pretty good. It really does. One of my better ones. Maybe if I tell it to myself enough times, I’ll come to believe it.
Don’t we all skillfully construct stories that support a fake narrative of our lives? For those of us that are without hope… we can only cling to our delusions. We dream dreams.
We wouldn’t dare recognize the truth even if we tripped over it. For we know what the truth is and where it ultimately leads… for us it’s a doorway into madness. A padded room in a psychiatric cell.
Fake stories lessen the horror.
I hope you bought the story. It was one of my better ones.
Cynthia and I were very nervous. We were walking past the vampires. We were terrified but we pretended to be joking and fooling around with each other.
I tried to whistle. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t afraid. But I wasn’t making any sound. My mouth felt very dry.
We passed by the vampires. They didn’t smell me. I didn’t smell.
But now something very ominous was happening. A darkened mist seemed to infiltrate the air. And it was getting darker. It was like fog.
And in this darkened atmosphere, where there is no Light, you could now clearly see the demons.
And I saw grey ones. They were horribly disfigured and had spikes protruding from their bodies. They too, like us, were afraid. And the red demons were whipping them. Urging them on. Forcing them to fight.
But it was just the Count.
Why did they need a whole army… to just fight against him?
We were running as fast as we could in the opposite direction. Away from the factory. But it was hard to run through the fog. It was like being encased in mud, from head to toe, and trying to run through it. Or trying to run while you’re under water.
The fog felt like it was alive.
It seemed like an eternity, but we finally ran past the fog.
We were only a block away and now in a normal darkened night.
Cynthia and I looked back.
I saw dragons fighting in the skies. The same kind of dragon that carried off the homeless man. But these were much huger. As big as skyscrapers.
I saw three-headed monsters with horns that had the body of a snake, fighting against them.
They were slithering in the air… just like a snake would slither on the ground. And they would wrap their muscled bodies around the dragons.
I saw what looked like vultures, with beaks as big as a building, swooping down… tearing apart the dragons, piece by piece.
What looked like huge bats, in a swarm, thousands of them… attacking the dragons.
There were also three headed dragons, fighting alongside the other dragons and they were spewing out white fire. They incinerated everything in their path.
There were monstrously deformed vultures engulfed in flames… and crying out from their pain.
I saw what looked like gladiators, each 500 feet tall. Beings that had as skin, a silvery metal, and from their mouths roared death and destruction. A spraying burning liquid acid, deforming and piercing through everything that it touched.
They were helping the dragons.
There were beings that looked like hyenas, that stood erect, with two bronze legs, and with claws as big as a building. They were tearing into the dragons.
A huge lightning bolt lit up the sky, cutting it, and it started pouring drops of blood. And then the sky split in two. Like the Red Sea. And in the middle was a blackened portal. The entrance to hell. To unbelievable horror.
And some of the dragons, still alive, were being dragged there. And so were the people.
You could hear the people pleading for mercy. Crying out for help. Even crying out to a God that they had long ago abandoned.
Now it was too late.
I remembered the line in a movie, “As darkness envelops the Light, the Souls of the people will also be enveloped in darkness.”
I put my hands over my ears. I couldn’t bear to hear the screams from the people anymore. Both Cynthia and I felt like crying. But there were no tears to shed. No drops to display how awful the horror was.
Vampires don’t cry.
There was a loud roaring explosion. It shook the ground. The night was engulfed in flames. The sky was burning.
There were cars underneath the explosion, parked on the ground… they melted.
Cynthia and I could feel the heat and started running.
I now realized that everything that the Count told me was a lie. He made me believe that he didn’t have any power. But they would have never assembled such a great army just to destroy an ordinary vampire.
I found myself staring straight ahead. Deep in thought. I looked at my sister, and she was staring straight ahead.
I wondered what type of horror the Count had witnessed over the centuries… he was always staring straight ahead. Was he Imprisoned by the thoughts of his past? Shackled to a history that he could not undo. And a loneliness known only to those that experience unbelievable horror. Or a loneliness known only to those that orchestrate it.
I didn’t sleep that night. I would never sleep again.
I noticed as the night advanced, how incredibly strong I felt. I also had a better sense of hearing, sight, and smell.
I was in a Church… No! It was a large auditorium. There were beings arguing with me. They weren’t people.
My eyes started burning. A fire was lit inside them. It was a raging inferno.
They exploded and engulfed the whole auditorium. Everything was on fire. And the creatures were burning and writhing in pain.
I walked through the flames… like I was walking through air. Unharmed.
I tried to look away, but the vision continued and I was motionless… paralyzed.
I saw different kingdoms. Different cultures. Human beings and those that were not. And I saw a plague… a Black Death. This disease was merciless… heartless. It killed everyone in its path.
It was a raging inferno that could not be contained.
It was the Black Death.
Someone lit the match. Someone lit the match.
Everything was scorched… consumed. Everything became ashes. It was a burning ring of fire. And it burns, burns, burns.
I lit the match!
I was the Black Death.
I turned everything into black ashes.
Is this real?
The night embraces me. It coddles me. It protects me.
Darkness is my cover.
A veil that shields me. Conceals me.
I am the fire that lights up the darkness. When I want to be seen… I burn.
I am a spark from the nether world.
Born in hell.
Immortal!
I consume everything that I touch.
I’m a scorching, penetrating fire that brings fear into people’s eyes. To meet me… is to invite unbelievable horror and terror into your life.
I am not a vampire. The vampire is my host. I feed off of it. I live through it.
It hides me.
I remain in the shadows. Unknown… unseen.
A parasite.
Count Vampiro was not a vampire. That was his costume.
The vision ended.
I stood in my living room and looked around. My sister was standing up and looking straight ahead. I started staring straight ahead. My eyes burned.
I hissed.
All of this happened two hundred years ago.
And we’re still searching.
Myself, my sister and Elvira. If the Count was still in this world… he would have contacted us by now. If dead… there is nothing else that we can do for him. If imprisoned and enslaved… we would have to fight our way past the gates of hell to retrieve him.
We continue to look for the girl with no name. She is our only link. And as we look for her… we are gathering our own army.
My sister and I do not feed off of the blood of people. Neither does Elvira. We only feed off of vampires. And we are their mortal enemies.
New York City is a city that never sleeps. That’s not necessarily a good thing.
We finally found a board that we could dislodge and we entered. A few feet away was a doorway. We walked through the doorway and started walking down a long hallway. It was dark at first but we kept walking. We started seeing ghoulish lanterns hung on the wall… lighting up the way. There were skeletons pointing the way with their skeletal fingers.
There were also ghost and skull ornaments dangling from the ceiling. And evil looking pumpkins hung on the walls.
We were passing by a mummy and I gave it the middle finger. It spit on me, and started laughing.
My sister noticed what happened and she started laughing too.
There was obviously a stupid dummy… inside the mummy.
The Frankenstein monster pinched my sister on her butt.
There were bloodcurdling yells and spooky laughter.
Me and Cynthia were laughing. It was hysterical.
The Count started hissing.
We kept walking and walking. It felt like we were walking around a maze.
We went right and then left. And left and then right. And right and then left. We were following the skeletons and where their fingers pointed.
We were at an intersection. And there were two skeletons. One was pointing left and the other right.
Me and Cynthia started laughing.
The Count started hissing.
Finally… a door. We opened it and entered a room with bright lights and blasting rock music. They were playing Roadway to Hell. And there were people dancing that were wearing little red devil horns.
The musicians all looked like demons. What outfits! They had feet with very pointed toenails and tails. And the people dancing to their music had similar outfits on. Some had more grotesque mask features than others. The female demons had short skirts on.
The music was pulsating with a beat that excited the senses. And Cynthia and I were moving in rhythm with the music. The place was rocking.
Cynthia and I started dancing with each other. And while we were dancing, I was looking around for the hostess. The girl with no name.
There was a beautiful aroma in the air. The fragrance was intoxicating. The couple dancing next to me… were smoking a joint. She stopped dancing, and walked near me, and put the joint in my mouth.
That was so thoughtful.
I love it when people are friendly like that. I noticed that she had a big rock on her finger. It almost slapped me in the face.
Maybe their swingers. I’ll sleep with her, and her husband can sleep with my sister.
The Count didn’t look happy. He tapped me on the shoulder.
I asked, while still dancing, “What’s wrong?”
The Count asked “Have you noticed the design on the floor?”
“What?”
“Take a look at the design on the floor.”
I said confidently, “It’s a star.”
I was always good with geometric figures.
“And how many points does it have?”
“Five.”
“Are there any breaks in the drawing or is it one continuous line?”
“There are no breaks. It’s one continuous line.”
My sister Cynthia was listening in and she whispered, looking shocked, “It’s a pentagram. A symbol for Satan. You moron! This is a Satanic cult. Let’s get out of here.”
She didn’t say it like that. She used a few more F bombs. And called me a moron more times than I would like to admit.
I said, “I’m not going anywhere. This party is awesome.”
My sister pinched me real hard on my arm.
I asked, in a very annoyed tone, “What is wrong with you? Why did you do that? You know I have very sensitive skin.”
“Did you ever think… maybe you were invited to this party so that they could sacrifice you to some demon deity that they worship?”
We went back out the way we came in. And when we were outside, I saw the girl. The one with no name. She was smiling. She stood on the other side of the street.
I waved to her. She didn’t wave back.
There were eight girls and at least sixteen guys with her. They all looked very pale. They looked like the Count. And there were a couple of others that were hovering above the ground.
I had to look twice. What was holding them up? And they had long fingers and long nails.
The girl with no name shouted, “Count Vampiro… it is so nice to finally meet you. The great Vampire slayer. But after tonight… you will drink no more.”
The Count pulled me and my sister back inside.
He said, “Those are vampires and demons. I’m trapped.”
“Is he out of his mind?” asked my frightened sister. “Are they all out of their minds? What was that girl talking about?”
Cynthia, like me, couldn’t speak. We were both terrified. The Count’s eyes were blazing red, and they both looked like fires were burning inside them.
And more than that. We could see inside the flames… people and buildings being consumed in a raging inferno.
We could feel the scorching heat coming from his eyes. We both moved back.
“He really is a Vampire,” said my shocked sister.
She didn’t say it like that. She used a few more F bombs.
The Count and I stuck our heads outside the door. There were others on top of the building across the street. I saw horribly disfigured faces, with horns, not only on the top of their heads… but also sticking out the sides of their faces and necks. They had claws, and skin that looked like burnt rubber. Most of them had an appearance of charcoal or black; but a few of them were red.
None of them were walking. They were floating a few feet above the ground.
There was one that was yellow. It was golden. It was in charge.
“Demons,” said the Count. “Real demons.”
We went back to the Satanic Halloween party.
The Count led us toward the back of the room… into a bathroom.
I said, “Why don’t we exchange costumes with some of these people. We can sneak out of here with them… when they leave.”
The Count said, “They’ll smell you from a block away. Your AB Negative blood. We could never sneak you past the vampires.”
I asked, “Can they smell you too?”
“No!” replied the Count disdainfully. “Unlike you… I don’t smell. And your sister just has regular common blood. You’re the problem.”
I didn’t know what was happening. The Count dragged me and my sister into one of the bathroom stalls and closed the door. Was he some kind of pervert too?
He bit into my neck and drained me of my blood. It burned! It felt like it was on fire. And then he bit into his arm. And he sucked blood from one of his veins and bit my neck again and transferred the blood to me.
It was a blood transfusion.
I no longer had the AB Negative blood coursing through my veins. I had his blood. And the vampires wouldn’t be able to smell me.
He bit Cynthia. We were now… both Vampires.
But Cynthia was mad. She didn’t want to be a vampire. But the Count explained to her that she was a natural. She had two big front teeth. Like a beaver. It would be easy for her to tear open someone’s throat and feed.
But she still didn’t like it. And she even felt insulted. She’s always been very self-conscious and sensitive about her teeth.
People were leaving the party. It was very late at night. We exchanged costumes with two of the guests. That was easy. The Count just threw them up against the wall and knocked them out.
I was now a demon pirate. And I had a snake sword too. Cynthia was Casper the unfriendly demon ghost.
I asked, “Why aren’t you getting a costume for yourself.”
“I would never,” said the Count, his eyes staring straight ahead, “be able to sneak past the demons. But you two can. Now that you don’t smell, you can also sneak by the vampires. You’ll just be another common blood type to them. Just one of the guests.”
I said, “I would never leave you Count. Our destinies and fate are intertwined.”
The Count pushed me outside the stall. He pointed his finger at me. “If you don’t go with your sister… I’ll engulf you in flames and end your life here.”
I said, frightened, “But I’m just a baby. A baby vampire. My life just began.”
It wasn’t the best of times or the worst of times, it was Halloween.
And when I woke up in the afternoon, I nearly had a heart attack. I went into the kitchen and there was this monster standing there. It had three eyes, all on the left side of its face, and its skull had a gaping wound, and its brains were falling out. I screamed. Was it one of the Count’s meals or a friend?
My sister Cynthia started laughing. “Do you like my face mask? I have one for you too. Happy Halloween.”
I wiped the cobwebs from my eyes, and asked angrily, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You know I’m very vulnerable when I first get up. Sometimes I hallucinate.”
“Stop smoking so much pot. That might help. Are you still sniffing glue?”
“No! I stopped doing that. If Danny didn’t stop me… I would’ve jumped off the roof. I learned my lesson.”
“If you stopped sniffling glue, then where are all my brown paper bags? I need to carry my lunch in them for work.”
“I gave them to Henry.”
“Another jerk,” said my sister disdainfully.
I ignored the remark and asked, “What about the Count? Do you have a mask for him too?”
“He doesn’t need one,” said a laughing Cynthia. “He looks ghoulish enough. Do you have any friends that aren’t freaks? I still can’t believe I gave up living with mom and dad because of you.”
“I didn’t tell you to leave.”
“I left… because they threw you out. And I was worried about you. I must have been insane. You’re incorrigible.”
I didn’t bother to respond. She and her friends were no better. I’m a work in progress.
Don’t respond! Don’t respond! I should’ve listened to myself.
I said, “I’m this way because of mom and dad. It’s hereditary.”
My sister couldn’t stop laughing. She doubled over with laughter. She almost threw up.
She said, “You’re this way because of mom and dad. Our very religious parents. They don’t drink or use drugs. They don’t even smoke cigarettes. I don’t even think they have sex.”
There were many things that I could say. Like her and her girlfriends are all sluts. And that the reason mom and dad didn’t have sex is because she was having enough sex for the entire family. But I held my tongue.
I asked, very concerned, “Where is the Count?”
“I don’t know. I got up about an hour ago and he wasn’t here. Good riddance.”
I don’t know why… but I was worried about the Count. He seemed so out of place in New York.
My sister gave me a mask that had one large eye in the middle of it, and blood running down the side of its mouth.
I put it on. It was a little tight… but not bad. We would attend the Halloween party with our masks.
The doorbell rang. I went to answer it. I was hoping it was the Count. My sister followed me. When I opened the door, I was pleasantly surprised and then shocked. I was glad to see the Count… but he yelled and fainted.
“I think,” said a hysterically laughing Cynthia, “that we better take off the masks. This idiot thinks that we’re really monsters.”
We took off the masks and when the Count woke up again, he looked all around the room.
“Where are the undead?” asked the Count.
“What?” asked Cyntia and I almost in unison.
“The undead. Those waiting in Hell until Judgment Day.”
“You can chill out genius,” said Cynthia, “it was only us. We had masks on. It’s Halloween.”
The Count hissed at both of us, and his eyes turned a blood red. I almost fainted.
Cynthia started laughing. She said, “That’s so cool. How did you make your eyes turn a bright red?”
The Count didn’t bother to answer. He grabbed my hand and we left. We started walking around again. We went from the East Village to the West Side and back again. My feet were killing me.
I refused to walk any further. I couldn’t.
I asked, “Can I jump on your back? You can give me a piggyback ride.”
The Count refused. He felt it was undignified.
We went back to Washington Square Park.
I sat down on the bench, and the Count remained standing. I was hoping to see the girl with no name again.
The Count was standing underneath a tree, and a pigeon pooped on him. I started laughing. The poop hit him right in the face.
The Count pointed his finger at the flying rat, and the pigeon was engulfed in flames. He barbecued it. It fell to the ground dead.
Several people saw what happened. They looked shocked. Stunned.
Thinking fast… I started applauding loudly and said, “This is the great magician Count Vampiro.”
People started applauding. They were even inspecting the dead pigeon.
I said, “It’s a fake pigeon.” I picked up the scorched pigeon, and threw it into a nearby garbage can.
I was about to say, “This is the great Count’s disappearing act,” and grab his hand and run out of the Park.
But the Count was mad. He was wiping the bird shit off his face and started pointing his finger at other pigeons and engulfing them in flames.
I started running around and grabbing the dead pigeons, and throwing them in the garbage can.
As I was running around I was yelling, “They’re fake birds. Don’t be alarmed. They’re part of the act.”
People were throwing money at the Count’s feet. It was donations for the performance. I saw a box and grabbed it.
I yelled, “Please toss the donations into the box. Thanks.”
I continued running around collecting the dead pigeons. And then I noticed a homeless man squatting over the box. He was going to take a dump in the box.
I started yelling at him. I told him, “If you’re going to take a dump… do it in one of the baby carriages. The babies do it there all the time.”
We started arguing. He put his hands up and started boxing around. He wanted to fight me.
The Count was about to point his finger at the homeless man, when I grabbed him
I saw a blue uniform in the distance. It was either a dumb cop or an even more stupid security guard. I couldn’t take the chance. I didn’t want the Count to be arrested. He fried about 39 birds.
I grabbed the Count’s hand and the box filled with the donations and we ran out of the Park.
The homeless man was yelling, “Scaredy cat.”
He threw an empty bottle of Vodka at us. That was a mistake.
The Count pointed at the homeless man and a really large bird — it looked like a small dragon — came out of nowhere and scooped the homeless man up and carried him off.
Several people saw what happened and they were stunned.
I yelled, “It’s an optical illusion crafted by the great magician Count Vampiro. Let’s give him a hand.”
They started clapping. I ran over with the box… and they tossed in donations. A little boy tossed in his lollipop.
After several blocks we stopped running and I counted the donations. We made 23 bucks.
I asked, while sucking on the lollipop, “Where did the dragon-like bird take the homeless man?”
“To its nest. It’s going to feed him to its babies.”
I was shocked.
The Count must have noticed the expression on my face. He quickly added, “I’m only kidding. It’s taking him to a detox center.”
I felt relieved.
We went to a nice diner for dinner. I had lobster and as usual the Count
didn’t eat anything. I had the money to pay for the dinner. But I didn’t pay.
I don’t know what happened. Force of habit. I dined… and dashed.
It was almost 9pm and I wanted to go to the Halloween party. I was hoping to get lucky with the girl with no name.
We met my sister outside an abandoned warehouse on Houston Street. She wasn’t happy.
“What kind of place is this?” asked Cynthia. “You’re a moron.”
She didn’t say it like that. She used a few more F bombs.
I said, “This has to be the place. She said it was an abandoned factory. A warehouse. This has to be it.”
“Who has a party in an abandoned factory?” asked my sister. “And how do we get in? There’s no entrance.”
She didn’t say it like that. She used a few more F bombs.
I said, “The girl with no name told me to squeeze through anything that looks like an entrance.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense. And what kind of girl… has no name?“
She didn’t say it like that. She used a few more F bombs.
New York City has the greatest movie theatres in the world.
And it was a great movie. A romantic comedy with a heartbeat and a funny bone.
And the screen was at least 15 feet wide. And it had great audio and the theatre had motion seats. These are interactive seats that move and vibrate in sync with the on-screen action. I felt like I was in the movie.
During the love scene, where the couple are in bed for the first time, I noticed the Count’s seat was really moving back and forth.
It was surreal!
And the Count didn’t attack anyone. He even waved goodbye to the baby.
The Count told me that when he and Elvira were really hungry, they would settle for people. But they preferred sucking on vampires. He explained, “There is a great difference between drinking beer and a really great wine.”
I understood what he meant. There is a great difference too… between smoking neighborhood pot and Columbian Gold that comes straight from the Columbian jungles.
When the movie was over, we started walking around the West Village and went to Washington Square Park. I sat down on one of the benches and was listening to one of the musicians performing. The Count kept standing and was just staring straight ahead.
He was obviously not a fan of rock and roll. This guy could play.
I asked the Count, “If I was a vampire and sucked his blood, afterward, would I be able to play music as good as him?”
“No!’
Would I be able to read music?”
“No!”
“Would I be able to play music by ear? Copy it… by just listening to it?”
“No!”
I thought, what a bummer.
“Are you able to read minds?”
“No!”
“Are you able to touch someone and give them an electrical shock?”
“No!”
“Can you break large rocks with your hands?”
“No!”
“Do you know people who turn into big wolves?”
“No!”
“Can you do the Monster Mash?”
“No!”
Can you do the Transylvania Twist?”
“No!”
“Can you do the Drac Boogie?”
“No!”
“Do you have friends that would help you fight your enemies?”
“No!”
I was going to ask him another question, but he started hissing at me.
A young attractive girl sat next to me. She had red lipstick on, and orange hair. She had a very short, patterned orange skirt on and a tight orange blouse. She looked like a pumpkin. She wore dirty white sneakers.
She asked, “Who’s the weirdo standing up? Is he a friend of yours?”
I didn’t know what to say. Maybe we were friends. I did most of the talking but I’m pretty sure the Count was listening. He would even hiss at me. I’m sure he was paying attention.
Me and the girl with the orange hair talked for a little while, and I realized that we had a great deal in common. She loved Halloween too.
Tomorrow was Halloween and she invited me to a Halloween party that night. It was around Houston Street.
I said, “Yes. I’ll be there.”
The Count hissed.
She said, “He can come too.”
I asked, rather shyly, “What’s your name?”
“I don’t have a name. And don’t tell me yours. We’ll be the couple with no names. Bye.”
I said underneath my breath, “I’m Jason.”
She walked away and I noticed that she had a really nice caboose.
I asked the Count, “Do you think she’s a little bit strange? Why wouldn’t she tell me her name?”
The Count stomped on my foot. He gets annoyed when I ask him too many questions.
We got back to the apartment a little after midnight. I was exhausted from all that walking. And my feet were crying.
The Count looked like he could walk another thousand miles.
“What is that doing back here?” asked Cynthia.
I felt bad for the Count. I thought she hurt his feelings. But he stared straight ahead.
“Does he have any more pot?” asked Cynthia.
The Count shook his head “No.”
“In that case,” said Cynthia, “you can’t stay.”
I said, “I was invited to a really nice Halloween party tomorrow night near Houston Street. You can come too… if you let him stay for the night.”
Cynthia asked, “Is Houston Street, near the Bowery where they have all those crazy rock clubs? And all those people are stumbling around like zombies?”
“Yes.”
“We have a deal,” said Cynthia. “That area sounds like it’s rocking. It’s probably going to be a great Halloween party. He can sleep on the couch like last time.”
And like last time… Cynthia didn’t bother to get the Count a pillow or blanket or anything.
Cynthia said, “Goodnight.”
I could hear her locking her door and bolting it. She was paranoid like that. All vegans are.
We all went to bed. But when I checked up on the Count, like last time, he was just sitting on the couch, in the dark, and staring straight ahead.
I felt sorry for him. I liked him.
It was like the Count read my mind. He turned towards me and said, “We shouldn’t be friends.”
I said angrily, “Why didn’t you just let the fat woman crush me and save yourself all this regret.”
“Do you think that I regret saving you?”
“It’s obvious that you do… but I don’t know why?”
“You don’t know anything.”
I felt really rejected.
The Count said, “I didn’t say I didn’t want to be friends. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m not good for you.”
That sounded like a line from a movie.
The Count turned away from me. And just looked straight ahead.
I remember when my mom and dad threw me and Cynthia out. I was sixteen at the time and Cynthia was eighteen. We wound up on a Central Park bench the first night and I was staring straight ahead too. There were so many thoughts rummaging through my mind. I guess the Count too… has lots of thoughts about life. Many things to think about.
Fictional stories by John Saccone 