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bridgetharker
Bridget Harker
United States

Words: 804
Access: Public
Comments: 2

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My Dream Vampire: A Work in Progress

“I had the wildest dream last night,” Autumn Sawyer said to Magena Bottomley while the two girls sat on the veranda of Magena's old rambling Victorian house.

“Wicked, tell me.”

“It was so vided. I know it was a dream but…”

“Come on, come on.” Magena Bottomley leaned forward in her wicker chair. It was twilight in May, and the crickets were already singing.

Autumn Sawyer frowned at her best friend, she had known Magena most of her life, and one thing she knew well, Magena had no patience.

“Keep your shirt on. This is going to be complicated.”

“Even better, I like complicated things.”

“Mom was away, as usual. I came home late starving and naturally there was nothing edible in the fridge.”

Magena Bottomley smiled. She knew Doctor Sawyer was a health food freak, a passion not shared by her seventeen-year-old daughter.

‘I ordered a pizza from Dominos and…”

“What kind?”

“Anchovy with cheese.”

“Gag.”

Autumn looked cross.

“Anyway, I ate it around eleven, showered and this is what happened”



Autumn Sawyer closed the lid on the empty pizza box and leaned over, dropped it on the floor by her bed.

“God, I’m stuffed,” she said to herself.

She pulled up the bed covers and looked at her body, an instant on the lips, forever on the hips. She signed and promised to restart her lapsed exercise routine tomorrow.

Autumn fumbled for her glasses on the night table, she had showered, changed into her pink teddy and taken out her contacts.

She picked up the leather bound copy of “Dracula” Magena had urged on her the day before.


That freaking pizza has caught up with me, she thought, her eyelids heavy.

She looked at the digital clock radio, 1:30 am, no wonder. She slipped the silk bookmarker into place to mark her page, put the book on the table, shed her glasses, clicked off the halogen-reading lamp, and drifted off to sleep.


She awakened to the sizzle of lightning and clap of thunder. Autumn roused up in her queen-sized bed, blinking sleepily.

Rain scratched against the bedroom windows. The weather guy hadn’t mentioned storms.

A strobe like flash of white light revealed the young man in her room.


Autumn Sawyer’s eyes froze on his long lean form. He lounged casually against the doorframe.

She popped up, slammed her back against the cherry wood headboard, jerking the sheet up to her chin. It took her a long time to find her voice.

“Who the hell are you?”

He was young, tall, and rawboned, with what Autumn instantly concluded was an ingenuously appealing face.

The intruder looked around the room as if he owned it. His profile seemed to speak to her of power and ageless strength.

She snatched her glasses from the night table and fumbled them on. She peered at the figure like an owl.

The rich outlines of his shoulders strained against the black silk fabric of his tailored shirt. Opened it revealed a muscular chest covered with crisp black hair.

She felt like a little girl, if I pull the cover over my head he won’t see me – I will be invisible.


He came close, looking down at her intensely. His dark eyebrows arched mischievously.

He approached and Autumn openly studied him from behind the bedcovers.

If I get out of this alive, I want to be able to give the police a good description of this bastard.

He stopped by the foot of her bed, studied her.

“Boo!”

Boo?

What the fuck? She couldn’t help herself she burst out laughing.

Her reaction seemed to amuse him.

“I am Arnou Devero, your vampire,” he said. “And you are dreaming about me, about us actually.”

His voice had depth and authority.

As if to prove it, he walked to the night table and picked up the book. “Dracula,” he said emphasizing each syllable, “At your service.”

He bowed theatrically.

Autumn Sawyer’s mouth curved into an unconscious smile.

“This has got to be a dream,” she said to herself as much as to him.

She looked at the pizza carton and mumbled, “Damn anchovies.” Then she looked up at him. Her bright clear blue eyes were direct. She was, for some unknown reason, no longer scared.

His fingers took her bare arm with gentle authority.

He looked into her eyes and saw in them intelligence and independence of spirit. His pulse quickened.

Autumn felt an immediate and total attraction for this young man in black, even if he had somehow burgled his way into her home in the middle of the night. To feel that way was stupid, this has to be a dream.

The mystery in his eyes beckoned to her irresistibly.

His hand tightened on her arm. He lifted her effortlessly from the bed.

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Comments  
bridgetharker Comment by: bridgetharker - 2008-05-04 23:38
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I know the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I have intended to thank you for your comments and questions on my scribbling for some time, but the days on my computer calendar keep passing, so thank you for your comments and questions.

With that out of the way, I tossed this one out there as an incomplete work -- I was not sure if I had stepped off on the right foot or not.

If I can ever get out of court, not as a defendant but as an alleged lawyer, I shall put an end to the story in say another 1,000 words.

I also want to thank you for commenting on my last erotic scribble, the emotion factor you mentioned hit home, I am still considering that one.

I will be attempting to respond to all the people who have been kind enough to comment on what I have done here since arriving, but in case it takes a while, let me thank everyone now. Maybe you will read this.

-- Bri
jgilgun Comment by: jgilgun - 2008-05-04 15:57
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I like this, but it seems unfinished. We do have some wonderful dreams. So, what makes her intelligent and independent? What happens next?
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By bridgetharker

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