'A Good Nights Sleep'

by Frank C. Gunderloy

T

he vampire dragged itself to the foot of the bed, struggling to raise itself on faltering wingtips. A frail figure lay almost hidden beneath the tangled gray bedclothes.

The woman awoke, groping for the chain of her crucifix, clasping it to her wrinkled throat with gnarled fingers.

"Please . . . don't touch me . . . not again."

"Fool," whispered the vampire, "That talisman may shield the husk you call a body, but tonight I seek a life-force from your very spirit, and no icon of the flesh can protect you."

"Holy Mary, Mother of. . ."

"'Mother?' I feel your energy flowing beneath that word -- feel it in your mind -- strong, yet soft and enduring as fresh-spaded earth. Think, mother, think. Think of your child -- think of how much you love him. Give me those thoughts, that love. Let me savor that power."

"Not my son -- not my boy -- please, you wouldn't ..."

The question faded unanswered, the memory fading with it, lost to the relentless feasting. __I had a son, but his face is only a shadow. What was his name?__ The sense of emptiness welled up in her throat, choking, bringing tears. Then that, too, faded. She touched the cross to her cheek, stared at the tiny drop clinging to the scrap of gold. __Why am I crying?__

The vampire strode to the window, turned before stepping onto the darkened patio.

"I shall seek you out again, old woman. You have many more memories to give me."

He unfurled his wings in the freshness of the cool night air, the new-found vigor coursing through his muscles. Others of his kind, gathered outside other windows, watched, nodded in recognition. So many drawn to this place. This place of strength, of renewal.

WESTINGHAM RESIDENTIAL NURSING HOME.

"Mother? Mother, it's Robert."

"I don't think she knows you today, Mr. Ellis."

"What's happened to her? She seemed to be getting better, and now suddenly she's a lot worse. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Alzheimer's is a progressive disease, Mr. Ellis -- you know that. We can't arrest the memory loss -- we just do our best to keep her comfortable. Why don't you come back this afternoon? She might be able to recognize you then."

"This afternoon?"

"Yes, Mr. Ellis. I know it might seem contradictory, but for some reason, most of our patients suffer their greatest disorientation right after they wake up from a good night's sleep."

(c) Frank C. Gunderloy, All Rights Reserved

Leave the author some feedback! Click Here