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2005.11.15

[Jerome_The_Vampire: Van_Rezning, The_Final_Chapter]

         Aaron, who had never harmed a soul in his life except for the occasional piece of stage equipment and maybe a roadie or two, lay in shreds on the floor of Jerome’s hotel room. I recognized it was him from the locks of black hair attached to the ragged pieces of scalp on top of his skull. It was hard to picture this lifeless pile of skin, blood and bones as the same guy who just last night threw me into the hallway.
         “What the fuck happened?” I cried. Then I felt the eyes staring at me. I turned around and saw its face. The same demon that had done this to Aaron, his grey, wrinkled skin pulled into bunches on his forehead, his bushy eyebrows knitted into a hawklike stare.  Blood dripped from his fangs down his face and neck.
         “And now I’ll take care of you.” The creature spoke in a voice that, though its pattern was familiar, sounded like it was put through a synthesizer from an 80s horror movie dance tune.  I narrowed my eyes to stare at the unkempt hair on the creature’s head.
         Before I could think any more, the creature swooped down towards me. I held up my hands to defend myself, but the creature was stronger than his wiry frame betrayed. He aimed his mouth towards my shoulder (which I found strange since I always thought vampires aimed for the neck), and I was able to deflect his bite with a butt of my head. While he was stunned, I threw him onto the floor, stood up and ran into the bedroom, barricading the door with the writing table.
         As I turned around, I noticed Aaron’s dufflebag on the floor, filled, as if he were about to leave. I guess he thought I was going to fire him. But he was just letting off steam.  I can understand that. And then I wondered if I was only thinking good thoughts because of my superstition of speaking ill of the dead. How did that little buck o’five fucker throw me into the hallway yesterday? I rubbed my head as my recollection brought back the pain. But wait…wasn’t Jerome in the room last night? Where is Jerome? Did that creature out there consume his body too, polishing him off before starting on poor Aaron?
         There was a loud thud at the door. The creature was trying to break it down. I looked around for a weapon, a lamp, anything, that could injure him if he managed to get in. Unfortunately, nobody on this tour believes in Christ enough to carry a damn crucifix.
         The door began to bevel under the force of the creature. I saw Jerome’s drum sticks on the night table beside the other end of the bed. That seemed strange. Were Aaron and Jerome sharing a bed? The things they kept from me. I would have been cool with that. Really. As long as they didn’t try anything on me, it would have been fine.
         The door cracked as the creature pushed to break it down. Summoning all of the faith that I had in this religious shit when I was younger, I put the sticks together in the form of a “t”, and stood, facing the door. If anything, it might delay the creature for long enough until I could think of something else to defend myself.
         The table went flying across the room, and the door crashed into the wall above the bed. The creature stormed into the room. I held my ground, though my hands shook as I held up the sticks.
         The creature stood up tall, and laughed. A laugh that I had heard before.
         “Do you honestly believe that movie trick will work with me?” he said in his growl.  “With my own sticks, even?”
         “Jerome.”
         My hands fell to hang beside me.
         “This… Aaron… the dead girls… it’s been…”
         “Well it took you long enough,” he said to me, his forehead relaxing ever so slightly. “I was wondering how that bump on your head effected your thinking. It seems to have made you slightly smarter.”
         I tightened my grasp on the sticks, and snorted. 
         “So now I know what you really think of me, “ I said to him.
         “I’ve been telling you for years,” he said. “As usual, you never listen to anyone around you. It’s all about you and what you have to do. We’re all fucking sick of it. You’re nothing but a self-centered, uptight, fascist dictator.”
         “Why, you fucking ingrate!”
         His words blinded me with rage.
         “After everything I did for you. You nearly fucking died. And I still gave you a fucking job as my drummer. And you repay me by slaughtering not only my fans but my lead guitarist?”
         “See? You, you, you... all about you. What about the rest of us? Can you play all the fucking instruments live? You’re the ingrate.”
         Jerome headed for the front door.
         “Where are you going?”
         “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “The best way to make you suffer is to take away your band, one by one. See what you do then. I’m off to visit Alessandro…”
         “No!”
         I leapt across the room. My band? He’s going to take down my band? Who does this little prick think he is?
         I reached forward and grabbed his shoulder.
         “You can’t take my band,” I shouted. 
         As Jerome struggled to break from my grip, with an instinct I had never felt inside myself before, my hand drove a drumstick between the rib bones of Jerome’s back.  His eyes widened. I spun him to face me, and, continuing to follow my instinct, I took the other stick and drove it into the center of his chest, crunching through skin, bone and cartilage, stopping as the diamond tip pierced his grey, cold heart.
         Jerome’s grip on my arm slowly began to lose its strength, as his body slid onto the floor.  The wrinkles in his forehead receded, and his fangs retracted. His face softened, becoming pale and kind. Whatever creature had possessed him had gone, and it was about to take Jerome with him.
         “Thank you,” he whispered, looking up at me, “for releasing me. I’m sorry…about Aaron…he was a good kid…”
         I placed him beside Aaron’s remains.
         “It’s all right,” I told him. “Be at peace.”
         Jerome’s eyes closed, his head slumped over to one side. Overwhelmed, I sank onto the floor, holding my head, staring at the bloody carnage.
         “Fuck,” I said to their remains,  “could this tour get any fucking worse?”

Posted by Mimi Jones-Taylor in tales_of_terror | Permalink

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Comments

Mimi, I don't know how to feel. I mean, I didn't want Jerome to suffer for eternity, but to be murdered? And poor Aaron. He is a nice guy, I hate that Jerome devoured the poor thing. I guess it's all for the best, Trent still has some of his band in tact.
:(

Posted by: bex | Nov 15, 2005 5:52:37 AM

I kinda wanted Jerome to eat Alessandro. That woulda been HOT.

Posted by: Jane | Nov 15, 2005 6:13:00 AM

Italian is tasty! LOL!

Posted by: bex | Nov 15, 2005 6:16:27 AM

I'm just glad Trent was the hero in the end, staking Vampire Jerome with his own sticks RULES!

Plus, Mimi, don't think that just because I was away, I wasn't reading every fucking minute of this brilliant masterpiece, because I was.

Posted by: Dierdre | Nov 15, 2005 6:20:30 AM

Sheer genius! I loved it...much stifled giggling in my office...it was just what I needed before dealing with the client from hell.

Posted by: maise | Nov 15, 2005 6:54:58 AM

Best Fucking Last Line Ever.

EVER, Bitches.

Posted by: Gabriel | Nov 15, 2005 8:10:02 AM

Awesome ending Mimi. Please keep writing stories for us. You're so damn creative.

Posted by: Nicole | Nov 15, 2005 10:50:28 AM

Merci tout le monde for your kind compliments. Et Nicole, though I will always continue to write the stories, it has not been confirmed to me if they will still be posted on the site anymore. Though I am encouraged by the very warm words of Gabriel above, yet still I hear not a word back from you, mon cher, since your return hier soir. I think we need to have un meeting via IM very soon to discuss my placement here maintenant.

Posted by: Mimi | Nov 15, 2005 12:06:43 PM

Don't worry Mimi -- no matter what anybody else on staff ever says, I promise you: you will always be welcome to post here.

Posted by: Gabriel | Nov 15, 2005 12:19:52 PM

Um... What are you two bitches implying? I fucking LOVE Mimi. Jesus Fucking Christ! Let's not get the drama revved back up so soon. I need a minute!

Posted by: Dierdre | Nov 15, 2005 12:55:16 PM

You're damn right Dierdre, you deserve a rest.

Posted by: Nicole | Nov 15, 2005 3:57:32 PM

Merci, mon cher. Still, I think we need to have un reunion about this over the IM instead of over the comments. SVP let me know when you are available.

Posted by: Mimi | Nov 15, 2005 4:52:56 PM

Mimi my darling, I'm ready when you are.

Posted by: Dierdre | Nov 15, 2005 9:52:29 PM

"...to everyone for the response we've recieved thus far. pre-orders for the record have been incredibly encouraging. as a way of saying thanks, we're going to autograph the first few hundred copies that are shipped.
the packaging/artwork is pretty extensive and i'm really pleased with how it turned out. i'm proud of the record and anxious as hell to have it out.....finally."

JD's post last night.

I think in a couple of weeks, I'm going to be a lucky girl as I ordered the first day.

:)


Posted by: bex | Nov 29, 2005 10:08:20 AM

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