Stories in November

Breakfast Without Vampires

A bat landed on my truck's roof. I served and almost crashed.

"I'll drink you dry and give your corpse to the princess."

"No, I have to invite you in. It's the rule."

"Your sister doesn't care! Being a minor, you'll have to allow family in."

"If I can just survive three days, you won't have that power." I raced through a barricade created to stop me from escaping out of another state. My back tires hit jagged spikes as my father's truck raced over them.

I knew I'd never make it to Vermont by nightfall, and maybe I wouldn't make it out alive. "Not this, not now!"

Life treated me as a side character.

My sister was being fought over by the vampire princes, and they made her their queen. Didn't she care that our mother died? Our mother gave her everything.

Luckily, I got to the gas station before my tires deflated. I hadn't changed out of my red jumper from the night before, but the thick wool would keep me warm.

Two small wounds marked my wrist from where the prince bit me.

Wisps of light surrounded the ruck, and not the vampires I expected.

A woman knocked on my door.

"Tammy, are you in trouble?"

"Who are you?" I stepped out of the truck. "I don't need another relative who I never met, trying to lure me to the vampires."

"Being bitten won't turn you. No, I am not a relative, but I knew your mother and sister." She pulled mousy brown hair out of her face. Her freckled eyes mimicked mine. This stranger looked more like me than my mother.

"Tammy, I'm your writer. I'm the person who writes about your life, or rather, the new writer. It's up to me to finish your story." She handed me a glass of hot chocolate and paid a mechanic to fix my tires.

"Don't worry, vampires aren't welcome here." A guard held up a crossbow.

I would have called her a liar, but I thought vampires weren't real either. "What kind of sicko writes what you do? I bet my mom being drained by vampires is a fun read. Oh yes, and you added the twist that my cheating boyfriend was helping them. Thanks for ruining my life." I sipped the hot chocolate. "This tastes fantastic, but it doesn't make up for the fact that you're cruel."

"I don't make things happen to you, but I see a window to other worlds, and I write about what will happen." She directed me to a diner and tossed our containers into a garbage can. I sat down at the red-blue plush seats and fell asleep.

In the morning, I woke to my favorite breakfast of sunny-side-up eggs, hash browns, toasted bagels, and more hot chocolate. I placed an egg and hash brown on my bagel and ate it. "Wow, this is the best breakfast I've had in years."

"I know." The woman spread strawberry jam and butter on black bread. "My name is Zan. The writer is never supposed to interfere with the subject's life, but you are suffering, so I came to your world."

"Happy 18th birthday."

"Is it really my birthday? I must have been out for days, but then that means they can't track me anymore." I noticed orange juice on the table and poured myself a glass.

"Why did my mom have to die?" I asked her. "Why did she spoil my sister? She is the golden child, but I had better grades and did the housework. Why am I not pretty enough? I should have never come back."

"Your mother was mistaken. She regretted it when she died. I'm not God and I know lots of things because everything that happens for you is three days past. Since I am stuck here, I'm helping you."

"No, I am nothing." I drank my juice and ate more of my breakfast.

"But you are not ugly, and you are the new hero, the lead character. That is why everything happened. The old writer fell in love with your mother, and she used it for power. Your sister is keeping him alive as an oracle. Lucinda located her birth father as well and turned him."

"Am I a tragic hero?" I asked.

"I don't know. Things have changed. Your mother let the vampires in because she knew they'd pick your sister. Both aspired to be turned, and they thought a little evil would be okay. Your half-sister was never meant to be the queen. Don't worry, I called for help."

My father and his farmhand, Caleb, entered the diner as if it was timed.

Caleb was three months older than me, but I hadn't seen the attractive troll in a year since I moved back to reconnect with Mom. His green muscles glistened under the lights. He handed me a stack of donuts surrounding a thick candle.

My father hugged me. "Happy birthday. We took the bus from Vermont. We can't go back. Lucinda has taken over."

The writer stared at me. "You drive to the next safety point. Her vanity has already destroyed your sister, but she doesn't know it, yet."