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And so, some archimage got drunk and confused his drink, with one of those things worthy of inhabiting the dungeon dimension.

The big glass of gin and tonic got eyed by multiple eyes in a body, eyes shared by bodies and smelled by bodies without eyes. You know. The dungeon dimension is generally filled by tentacles. Of all these monsters, there were two who were bigger and meaner. They actually took a sample of that strange thing that had made it to their place.

That got the dungeon dimension to get blurry and distorted enough for the first tentacle to scurry off and enter a different universe. One in which a certain character was introducing himself to a gorgeous lady in a yellow dress.

He, no matter how prepared to risk his life under a bullet rain, wasn’t prepared for a big tentacle taking his Martini from his hand and pouring it into multiple mouths.

Shuffle, shuffle and take one card away. I am the insider, and the word: «fright».

Roger is to my right, Leslie to my left and the twins Katy-Kenneth in front. Katy is the master. She swallows. She has seen the card too. It didn’t had numbers or words as usual. It had a tiny character robed in black with its metal aimed to itself.
Katy: I am the master, you might start now.
She turns the hourglass and our time runs out by the grain.
Leslie: is it food?
Roger: is it a person?
Katy doubts because of the anthropomorphic guy but thinks hard on the word and denies. I sweat cause there are not abstract concepts in the game. The white guy has already warned us not to tell the others.
I think all the possibilities I can ask but they all give away what’s happening… Is it a new word? Is it something abstract? Is it a… TV programme! No. No TV programs are mentioned.
Me: is it in the dictionary?
Les and Roger glare at me. Every single word there on the cards IS in the dictionary!
Katy is getting anxious and desperately needs a clue for them. Her forehead is dewy in sweat.

Katy: no. It is not in the dictionary.

Roger is about to rise and start a fight but Les places a hand on his chest and shooks. Katy giggled in the masculine voice she lost to hormones to make it a joke so Leslie has taken bait. Roger is going to be useless in this game but now Les knows how to keep him at bay.
Les: is it funny?
Katy: sometimes
Me: does it happen in special places?
Katy: sometimes
The hourglass is already marking half.
Roger: does it bark.
Katy: no.
Kenneth: is it abstract?
Katy doesn’t say yes but nods too much.
Me: is it a big or a small word?
Everyone else: yes or no questions!
Me: is it a small word? I mean, short?
Les: is it for girls?
Katy: sometimes.
Kenneth: is is life?
Katy reflects. Fright is a part of life but no. It ain’t life.
Roger: is it… [Les kicks him from under the table but Roger actually ignores the warning] Is it scary?
Katy waves her head but freezes to a glimpse of the Death pointing at her with a bony index. She and I are the only ones who can see it.
Katy: yes, it is scary…
Me: is it an scary object?
Katy: no… It is not.
Big tears fall from her eyes. We’ve ran out time. Game is over.

Madame Trudeau insisted. Everything in the room had to be as pristine as a dew drop. The windows had to be so transparent birds might crash against them. What for if the sessions were at night and with all the drapes on? Not that I knew what those sessions were for.

I wear the black dress with the white apron since five morning and scrub. Scrub the floor until it was like a mirror. Scrub the windows until bird corpses fell on the small orchard filled with grenades and peaches. Dust the bric-a-brac of different shapes like cats, dogs, horses and humans. There’s even a castle. Behind this garbage, there’s a book bound in black lace. I think it is to me

Now the table is shining… Except for that spot around the skull of Sir Randall Powell. You can tell the rest of the room is clean even without cleaning it; cause that skull has dust on it. Madame once said he had been her husband and that she would rather have the skull left untouched. The previous maid to me had cleaned it and… that’s how I came into this house.

Friday evening. All the house is clean and sparkling. Madame Trudeau said I can go out or accompany them in their session. Spirits? Can they steal money from a living?

I sit apart. The chairs are heavy and the table round. This table allows everybody to sit around. Some whore here feels put of place. Must be me. I place my chair outside of the circle. Madame tells me to become part of it. It’s all set.

A bird crashes against the window and enters the room but… The window is still in one piece. Madame Trudeau takes the bone under the skull, she has the bird perched atop n her right index. I can’t believe my eyes when she speaks to the bone as one speaks to the phone.

—Miss Vinca Être ?

That’s my name. I play dumb cause that’s not the name madam knows.

—Miss Vinca, someone from the hereafter wishes to talk to you — Madame Trudeau calls a second bird from the dead.

That’s it. I charge against the skull. Madame resists with all her weight. Superior to mine, it is not enough to counter her lack of reflexes and she hits herself against the table and I make haste of the confusion. My fingers close in the spine of the book.

I guess I can’t just get out of the window… I can see all the dead of her life and mine.

Winter is here! Yep, winter. Do you have any idea what is life like for me in summer? I spend days tugged inside a metal cabin; sweating a lot in an over 40°C place, suffocating of humidity. Isn’t it the right weather to pass away? And I don’t. Today too, I better get myself in that cabin…. Yes, I hate it. I’d prefer being naked at the beach.

I turn around and my twi… Okay. I’ll say it. We aren’t twins. We’re Siamese. There’s a thin line of skin keeping us together and our head. It is hard to sever it because it has a lot of thin veins running along that shouldn’t really be messed with. Not if we want our head to stand strong… We only have a pair of limbs, damn it! Didier is slightly smaller than me. He wakes up feeling scratchy.

Today is the day. We prepare with a great mackerel and tomato salad breakfast. We are going to rule the world! Didier says I’m too much of an odd ball. I’m Dima by the way.

The jail is over us. There are men in suits making bets. Women of scarce clothes bet. Oh, the women… It ain’t time to think in the women. We have to work smashing that pair in front of us. His white short is going to end up red!

The bell rings. Here is our assault and our left foot connects with his right arm. Next pour a rain of fists onto his torso. We can’t connect them. Everything is fine… Everything is fine. We just need to smash his Siamese.

No, everything is not okay! We see a knee coming our direction. It is big and hard and damned John forgot to wear the cup! Help!

This has been just one of the scary tales (of the testicles)

This is uncomfortable. I’m the only one eating. She is staring at my rare steak with what I’ll call hunger. She spent all day in the office, quiet as a mouse and now we’re here in a three stars restaurant (only crazy people pay for the air they’re served), and she won’t eat.

My date with this long haired beauty is going nowhere if we can’t have a decent conversation. I’m the only one whose tongue is in service and it’s already been 20 minutes. I know, most men can monopolize a conversation just to try and IMPRESS the girl, but that’s not good at all. I suddenly go quiet too. Is she so uninterested?

Aiblin looks up from her untouched plate. I scratch my head. How can we eat together and have fun? There’s a mirror to my left. My sideburns are creeping down my cheeks. That reminds me it is that time of the month for me. Yeah, we might be able to do that. There’s a sound. It is my cellphone in vibration mode with a message from her: «Are you ok? You look irritated. I hope you don’t feel disappointed. I can’t eat cause I can’t open my mouth. My reflux is acting up».

I snicker. She flinches and looks hurt. I call the waiter. She starts looking inside her bag to split the bill. We wait. I take the paper bag brought by the waiter, pay and get up. She gets up too and is ready to flee but I’m faster. I grab her hand and silently lead her outside. She can’t even protest. Outside, in the blurry lights of the street due to the fog, her feet are blurry too. Her whole presence has become blurry and incorporeal.

My car. A cheap Japanese model. I open her door and push her inside together with the paper bag. The motor roars like a kitten, it is a hybrid model. Right, I need to re-charge the battery… Let’s go with gas. The highway is empty so we go for miles and miles until the gas is over. Equally the picnic site next to the edge of the forest is all right. Aiblin sends me a text «Thanks for the night but I think I need to go home». I smile and start taking my clothes off. She gasps and covers her mouth as soon as she realizes of it. She blushes but still glances my way and admires what I’ve been sculpting running under the moon.

My naked butt is out of sight (the front is). I write a text back before I can’t use my fingers anymore: «Follow me, and bring the food». The moon light shines to our howling in the woods. It’s never going to be a brunch with a banshee but who cares.

Underweight… For the sixth time I’m underweighted! Again! What can be sadder than an opportunity wiggling in front of you and you being unable to take it? My favourite Korean vampire band will be in town. Of course, they need Nourishment volunteer staff for the time they’ll be around. V and D and N are coming and I can’t literally apply to feed them. Am I crazy? My sister thinks I am…

I open the door and what do I see? My sister is here already feeding Raoul, my iguana. She hates reptiles in general but loves Raoul’s calm demeanor. I leave the keys in the keyholder and toss my coat on the sofa to lay in it closed eyed. For once, she isn’t mocking my intents.

Then I get up quickly and I leave behind me, her concerned blue eyes directly to the shower. There, I bawl my eyes out. This is an additional failure to my long list of failures.

—Do you want to eat some chicken wings? — She shouts. My assassin brown eyed stare soaking the floor, pushes her to fall back a little but her big bust goes up and down and she seems to remember why she came here — I think it is in your best interest to swallow sole grease from today onwards
—Why should I? I didn’t pass… Again. I’m giving up — I melt down into the floor and lay there.
— What if I told you I got an invitation to be a feeder? — My chest literally feels like being crushed under a hippo. Maya is always… My dear sister. She doesn’t hog or monopolizes opportunities for herself. She works on them and… It helps being attractive. Big busted and white skinned with big blue eyes. I’m just the one who looks like cleaning service in a luxury hotel…
— What did you sell to become a feeder?
— FYI I sold nothing. My boss has an acquaintance who has a friend who couldn’t, literally, become a feeder cause he caught the Corona virus.
— Maya, don’t joke with me! — I’m using my puppy eyes to say «yes!» with all my being but still playing hard to get with my words. And she knows.
— I am not! The thing is… The vampire who needs feeding is not the VDN trio but… Their manager.
—And how come this acquaintance of yours couldn’t find anyone in their circle who wanted to be a Feeder? I’d kill for it!
— Are you going to kill me?
— No. Anyways it must have a catch. There’s always a catch in small letters
—Ah… Well. As a matter of fact…
— What with it?! Come on Maya, he might have asked directly for you… — I’d happily trash a hammer into her skull if she weren’t quite a decent human being and loved me — Her face goes red and she stammers:
—How did you? I didn’t know until today! Come on Andrea, you can go in my place. You only need to gain weight. And gaining it isn’t difficult if the person doing the training is the manager themselves…
— Don’t you think he won’t realize with his superb vampire senses?!
— He is blind… We both have the same smell dear twin

True. We’re twins. As different from one another as beauty and the dull, but we are still identical twins. Genetically speaking. If we look nothing alike is because of the fenotype markers. Still, we’re twins so this might work.
— Are you sure he is blind?
— Yes. We met today…

That was three days ago. Tonight I’m meeting Trevor so he can asses me. Am I going to fail a seventh time?

Mrs. Chavez opens the door and starts crying before Chris and I, have any time to yell: «trick or treat». Her chin trembles as well as her belly does.

—How could, how could you? — the bang of a slammed door on our noses and no candies.
—How are you going to pay me? — I ask Chris, a bit annoyed since I wasn’t wearing my own custom but his brother’s. I might have gotten more candies on my own.

This is the fourth time we stop in front of a door without results. It might be that the funeral was just two weeks ago… But that shouldn’t upset the neighbours as much. My hair is slightly darker than his and my crooked teeth can’t smile as cutely and innocently; greeting or good bying anyone. Chris’ twin, Kale, was the sweet angel of the pair.

We walk around the white fence of Mrs. Kelly to get to her door. Her yard has an army of beautiful happy mouths of scary pumpkins. «Trick or treat» we yell for her to open the door. She does and I can see that what used to be beautiful soft skin has sagged a lot from last autumn. That time when she opened the door she said:

— Hey, who are you? Are you the triplet of the Alexander kids?
— No mam. I’m new in the hood… I’m Irving Thompson
— Seriously? Where are you from?
— I can’t say the name but it is very cold. Super cold place!
— Right, well nice to meet you Irving, I’m Sandra Kelly. What would you like then? I have candies and healthy snacks
— Candies please
— Sure sweetie

Today, she barely looks at us with red eyes and whispers something only I can listen to: «Don’t touch Chris, Luzdel. Please» while she fills my bag with chocolate.

I thank her with a big smile.