Time for one of my macabre stories from my imagination. Fear not -- only two parts to be completed next month. However, for now ... enjoy!!
The Night of Promise
Part I
By
B.D. Adams
©2014
Unseasonably warm, for this early Autumn
evening ... just a breeze to tease of the season’s change. The trees subtly
shook their colorful leaves with the warm breeze. As the sun would set, it
would be cooler, but tantalizing!
It had been a couple of decades since Spencer
Randolph last visited this North Carolina location in the Blue Ridge Mountains near
the Tennessee border. He felt a little antsy, though. Felt the need seek a real
woman -- not only to satisfy his hunger!
Usually, he’d check out the seedier side of
cities/towns, where an isolated death would be unimportant. However, tonight,
he wanted culture ... refined entertainment.
Ah, yes ... an outdoor concert, a string
quartet ... as seen in the local paper. This Wednesday night, there would be a
concert of classical melodies at the small town’s newly built amphitheater. The
theater was like those in natural settings, like in Greece or Rome. It was set
up more for blanket seating than for chairs. Very romantic!
He had peeked into the theater the other day
and remembered that the stage was a “bowl” structure. Great for outdoor
acoustics!
Spencer had experienced some of those
theaters of the ancients in real time because he had visited the theaters
before their demise at the hands of war. He had roamed alive since 1655. He
wasn’t born as a baby that year – he died that year to be born anew.
At the tender age of twenty-five, in 1655, he
was involved with a street fight in South Molton in Devon, England. He was a
strapping lad with more height than power. His mother was Scottish, but the
“father” was a British sailor, who moved them to Southern England, a coastal
location, while he was a toddler. He attained his manhood in Devon.
The period was the English Civil War! There
had been no monarch to rule after King Charles was executed for his treasonous
behavior. The parliament had enough with King Charles’ religious practices.
After all, he had married a Catholic woman from French royalty. His son,
Charles II, hadn’t been anointed as yet. All was chaotic!
This night torches lighted the streets of
South Molton. It was not clear about what group Spencer was fighting. He joined
a street gang in the dark and grabbed a sword from a downed soldier. He had
never used a sword before, which was evident with his first
attempt to fight. A soldier began to fight him and was better at it. He gored his sword
through Spencer’s stomach like a knife slicing tender beef! The soldier didn’t
stay to know if he had killed, just ran off to attack someone else!
In his agonizing pain, Spencer just lay in
the street, bled profusely; weak and sure he would die!
Within a moment, another man dragged him out
of the middle of the street to an alley. In the dimly lighted alleyway, Spencer
saw an old man with a scarred face.
“Sir,” Spencer feebly said, “I am done. Thank
you for your attention.”
He remembered the man just looked at him and
smiled, as he confessed, “Young lad
... yew will na die. Ye will live foreva!”
That was all the man said before he bit into
Spencer’s neck to suck what blood still pumped through his heart!
Spencer had known the joy of women, but the
ecstasy he felt now was so indescribable!!
Once the man ended his drink and gave Spencer the drink of the blood from his
arm, he soon became a vampire!
The mystery man was correct. Spencer was now
alive in the year of our Lord two
thousand-fourteen. It’d been better than three and a half centuries! He hadn’t
seen the sun in that amount of time, as well. He’d been stabbed, shot, drowned,
thrown off a tall building ... all sorts of mayhem, but he still lived! He knew
that he might experience some malady that would end him, but until then, he
would continue to flourish!
Spencer had no idea why he had been chosen
for this gift of eternal life.
He had resided in England/Europe for two of
those centuries. However, Europe had become too crowded with his minions, with
his compatriots! Therefore, he traipsed to the New World, to the United States,
for new territories for his lifestyle.
He fed on the Indians and the run-away slaves,
the white and black, to his heart’s content! In large cities, his pickings were
abundant!
Tonight, he wanted to meet a modern lady, a
lady of means, to satisfy his special desire for this night. He needed that
“blue” blood!
Spencer was only twenty-five years when he
“died,” so he used some theatrical cosmetics to make himself appear older. It
was by the luck of his parentage, he was not a dandy, a beautiful man. Ruggedly
attractive was his description. He kept his auburn-tinged, blonde hair styled
long. Mature, but carefree. He wanted to find a woman who would want a man of
experience, which he was, no matter of his looks.
He donned his warm clothing – warm afternoon,
but cool as the sun set -- because he wanted, as usual, to appear normal --
like the other men. He could walk down the street naked as a Jaybird ... the
cold had no profound affect on him! Besides, he really liked his woolen argyle
sweater in the colors of dark blue and green. He was not muscular, but the
sweater gave that illusion. With his comfortable height, his Wrangler jeans
were complimented by his LL Bean boot/shoes to complete his attire.
According to the advertisement for the
concert, wine was allowed, one bottle only – Drink Responsibility! He decided
on a vintage bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild, Bordeaux (red), from a
stylish, local shop. He added a few bakery rolls to take, also.
Spencer had learned in his vampire life that
he could drink vintage wine, nothing younger than five years of the age – not
just blood. Cognac was also allowed -- in moderation! Also, he knew the wine would
impress the woman he would choose!
He had packed two Tartan blankets (his Scottish
upbringing) in his wicker picnic basket.
So, the wine, two crystal wine glasses and the rolls were rested in there. The extra
blanket was for his chosen lady to warm herself against the cool night. He proceeded
on foot to the amphitheater.
There were several spectators already seated
on the grass slope at this near dark hour. Dim artificial lights, already turned-on, showed many colored blankets patch-worked
the scene. Thank goodness the spectators with chairs were congregated in a
different corner of the grounds.
Spencer chose a location away from the
chairs, not yet occupied near an ancient oak tree, away from the stage. He
spread out one Tartan, for him to lie, and placed the wine and the glasses by
the basket. He had included a couple of cloth napkins with the maroon color, as
well. Always a nice touch, he thought. That done, he lay on his side and
bolstered himself up on his elbow and began to scope.
Most of the blankets had couples of different
situations on them. He was able to discern
that a few blankets had groups of three, like one man and two women. There were
a few groups of three women. He would really need to be prudent.
‘Ah ... what do I spy?’ Spencer thought to
himself. He had no sooner begun his observations
than a lovely woman caught his eye on a blanket of three – a man and two women!
And, she was, indeed, very lovely! Her face was quite attractive, but the
diamond ear studs were attractive, also! Big diamonds!
Spencer was fairly sure that she was
not with the man – on her own.
Her long Tartan-style shawl wrapped over her
shoulders, gave Spencer the feeling of his mother from many years ago.
This lady’s hair was a dark blonde, styled away
from her eyes, and went down her back, past her shoulders, in soft curls. Her
face showed soft care to her cheeks – softly arranged cheekbones. He saw the
diamonds as she casually tossed her head and wisped her hair behind her
delicate ears. Her eyes were the rare color of Elizabeth Taylor’s color –
violet blue. This was seen by his vampire vision.
The lovely lady unwrapped the shawl, for now.
Her cream colored cowl-neck sweater didn’t hide her body. As she leaned to the
other woman, her small, but noticeable breasts, said she was shapely. Her dark
blue-jeans were fitted to her trim legs, with feet in stylish boots. She appeared
comfortably petite to him.
Within only a moment, they made eye contact and
smiled to each other. He began his vampire telepathy, in low volume. He wanted
her to want him.
The lady made a comment to the other woman
and they both looked to him. The other woman seemed to approve of her friend’s
choice.
Then, she patted their blanket for him to
join them.
Spencer sat up and patted his blanket and
held up the two wine glasses in his other hand. He smiled his “come hither”
smile.
She spoke with the other woman, and
then stood to move to his blanket. The fellow reacted to her rise, but the
other woman made him stay seated and seemed to assure that their friend needed
no assistance.
As she arrived, Spencer stood to welcome her
to his space, the gentleman he was since his change.
“Hello. I’m Spencer, Spencer McLain,” he
offered. They shook hands cordially.
“I’m Cynthia Withers,” she said with a sweet
smile. Then, she commented, “British, Scottish?”
Ah, he thought aware. She didn’t ask if he
was Australian ... she is educated.
“My mum was Scottish and I was raised south
of London. Please ... sit.” He held her small hand to guide her to sit on the blanket.
He sat, as well and smiled, as he said, “Thank you.”
“For what?” Cynthia inquired with a quizzical
frown. She sat like a lady with one leg outstretched.
“For not asking if I was Australian. Most
people I meet immediately ask that.”
Cynthia nodded and looked sincerely in his
eyes.
“Cynthia ... a beautiful name for a beautiful
visage.” This regular woman had grabbed his definite interest! He thought, talk
to me some more!
Spencer held up the wine bottle, as to ask if
he should open it. She nodded a yes
answer when she approved the bottle. He took out the opener to open and let the
wine breath.
He decided to prime the conversation and
asked, “Have you visited the British Isles?”
“Yes ... a few times,” she proudly said.
“Ah ... a traveler.”
“I see your pinky ring. Are you married?”
Cynthia curiously questioned.
Spencer shook his head no, and asked, “Why do
you ask?”
“Oh, I’ve learned some regions in the Isles,
mostly in Scotland or Wales, couples will wear a pinky ring to indicate
marriage or ... attachment.”
Cynthia was quite the knowledgeable person!
Spencer grinned. He was so glad of
his choice. This night had promise!
The theater grounds became crowded. The
musicians were on the stage, so nothing more was said because the musicians
began their concert. Cynthia and Spencer smiled with anticipation to each other,
as the melodious ensemble played. They both put their attentions to the music.
After the first refrain, Spencer asked subtly,
“Are you married, Cynthia?”
She shook her head no. She seemed embarrassed
by this and confessed, “Divorced.”
“I’m sorry. Was it painful ... the divorce?”
Spencer wanted to know. He handed her a glass and filled it with the wine.
“For him, it was,” she said. She took her
glass graciously, and then asked, “Where do you live, Spencer? Do you live in
the Carolinas?”
Before he could answer her, as he poured his
wine, Spencer felt a brush of cold air – a cold he could feel where they sat!!
Cynthia reacted to the coolness, as well.
Damn it, Spencer thought ... what or who was
that? He was only mildly concerned because he couldn’t perceive anyone he had
known. However, he was on his guard!
“Spencer ... are you all right?” Cynthia
asked calmly. She purposely, but softly touched his arm.
“Huh? Uh ... yes, I’m fine. Sorry, Cynthia
... I had a ... a business thought come to mind. I swore to myself that I would
not think about business on this holiday,” Spencer said, as he took her small
hand to kiss her fingers. He realized that she was affected by the chill, so he
took out the other Tartan. “My home is in New Hampshire ... Wolfeboro,” Spencer
lied. In reality, his home was wherever he drank.
He gave her a heartfelt face, as he spread
the blanket over her shoulders (he stayed
uncovered). She smiled.
They toasted their glasses, and then sipped
the tasty ambrosia of the wine. He almost
couldn’t take his eyes off of hers.
Damn!! There it was again! Spencer upgraded
his guard. He needed to find out why this entity, this older entity, was
“buzzing” him! He tried to enjoy the
wine and Cynthia.
The music continued – Spencer tried to scope
without being too obvious!
After a moment, Spencer felt his cell phone
vibrate in his jeans pocket. He was rather startled ... that had been
turned-off totally!
“I so apologize, Cynthia. Best laid schemes.
I’ll return briefly!” He took out his cell phone
as it continued to buzz. His thoughts of ending this nuisance permanently were
abundant!!
“Burns,” Cynthia said with her smile, “Robert
Burns, a favorite poet.”
Cynthia had scored yet another positive mark
with her recognition of poetry. He would
need to quickly neutralize whoever this was!
“Who is this?” Spencer asked abruptly. He had
gone to the other side of the oak tree to take the call.
“Ah, Lad. Have ya lost yer patience with
age?” said the old memory of this voice. “I gave yew th’gift ... ‘member now?”
To Be Continued
Labels: fantasy, history, literary
