a little fiction

Below is something I wrote because Kay from Book Group said there was a wave of books taking place in a book store and then a wave of books about food and so I said I was writing a story about a vampire who owns a book store and cooks.  This is the beginning.  It is turning into a devastating love story that I could give you in installments or give up on...  let me know what you think.


My name is Jake.  I live in a medium sized city in the middle of nowhere.  I enjoy nowhere.  I own a bookstore in the middle of the medium sized city, but what I really like to do is cook.  I get home between 4:30 and 5:00, after going to the local markets to buy nice, fresh ingredients.  I drive a couple miles outside of town to find the perfect human to pair with it.  Crap, I forgot to mention that I am a Vampire.

I am writing this because I woke up and realized that most of the books I was stocking on the shelves either took place in a bookstore, included recipes, or had a vampire.  I realized that I embodied all three of these best selling qualities and maybe, just maybe, there would be other vampires out there who could benefit from my vast knowledge of good books and recipe combinations.  It took me a long time to figure out that you should match the human you drink with the meal you are eating.  So if you are eating Penne Ala Vodka, you should look for someone of Italian decent.  I have actually fine tuned this, though.  Not only should you find an Italian, but a female Italian with medium length hair and well-defined calves.  Minestrone soup, on the other hand, is best with a male Italian over the age of fifty who does not dye his hair.  Normally I only have one or two glasses of blood with dinner so that I can keep my supply around.  If you went into my recipe book, you would see names beside each recipe.  They aren’t the suppliers of these homemade directions, but rather which of my neighbors goes best with the dish.  Every time I have Brats, no matter where I am, I crave a glass of Mr. Schmidt.  My mouth waters just thinking about it.

Some of you may be reading this and thinking, but Jake, aren’t you afraid of being run out of town once your secret is known? I must laugh.  My name really isn’t Jake.  People may become suspicious of their local bookstore owners, but not of me.  As everyone knows, vampires are incredibly good looking and seductive.  We all know how to sigh perfectly to each situation.  If someone is sick, we sigh long with a little hum.  If someone has a new outfit on, we inhale our sigh so that it seems our breath is taken away.  If someone makes a joke, we sigh lightly while shaking our head.  Vampires don’t need super powers because we have good looks and the ability to sigh.

So that said, I will now describe myself.  This is actually how I look, but I am not afraid of being discovered.  I am simply too good looking.  People may think I am the vampire they just read about but their next thought will be: “but who cares, because he is so good looking.”  I am six foot four inches tall.  (Most male vampires are because this is the perfect height.)  I have dark black hair and blue eyes.  When I am clean-shaven, I most resemble James Bond.  When I allow a five o’clock shadow, I look as though I should be in an Abercrombie ad.  My face does not give away my age.  I could be between twenty and forty which enables me to pick up a nice wide range of people.

I only have one flaw.  I love sucking romance novel enthusiasts dry.  When I ring up a woman who is buying three or more books with pulsating members on the cover, I become so thirsty, I almost can’t contain it.  If there is no one else in the store, I often show her to my special stack of romance novels in the back, in the secluded room.  I am so gorgeous, they willingly go with me – to a darkened room with no windows and only one entry.  I realize that very intelligent women read romance novels, but perhaps they only buy one at a time.  So far no one who buys three or more at a time denies me.  I suck them dry and then I refill them with blood I steal from the hospital.  They generally lose their interest in romance novels after being filled with a strangers blood, but they don’t remember anything.  Sometimes family members will ask me if I notice anything strange about them, but I generally say no. I suppose this makes me a bit of a mad scientist, but all in all, I see no harm truly done.  Over time, their body has completely remade all of their blood and they are back to being themselves again.  They develop an appetite for political biographies, however.