Melabeth the Vampire (8 page)

According to Carrie, she had taken this necklace from her dead Grandma who had forbidden her from ever having it in the first place. It all started when she was little and visiting her Grandma. She was sneaking through her Grandma’s stuff when she found it in a wooden box; she fell in love with it immediately. She put it around her neck and was looking at herself in the mirror when her Grandma came into the room.

I guess Carrie’s Grandma
was always sweet and nice. So she never understood why other members of the family would call her a witch. When her Grandma saw her wearing the necklace, she had a fit. She told Carrie she could never wear or play with this necklace again. When Carrie asked why, Grandma said it was because it was cursed.

A few years later, her Grandma was killed in a car accident; Carrie had never stopped thinking about that necklace. So, as soon as her and her mother went over to Grandma’s house, she found the necklace and shoved it into her pocket. She never told her mother, even though
her mom later was looking for the necklace. Knowing her mom was on the hunt for it, she always wore it under her shirt when she was at home.

Her Grandma was a witch, and this necklace was cursed. I told Carrie the best thing we could do is try to find a witch and see if we could free her. Of course this was secondary to my R and R.

I stuck my thumb out and a big car pulled off of to the side of the road. Carrie had laid my bag on the ground; I didn’t wait for her; I picked it up. I ran up to the car, opened the back door and tossed in my bag.  Carrie jumped in and I followed.

There was an old man with white hair in the front seat; he was turned around facing me. His glasses were huge and thick; boy I hope we make it.

The old man said with a kind old voice, “A young girl should not be hitchhiking all by herself. Now I am not trying to tell you what to do or anything; it’s just dangerous. So where are you heading?”

Carrie looked over at me and said, “Well I may be solid, but unless his glasses aren’t thick enough. I am still invisible.”

Carrie was always a loud person, and this was no exception; the old man gave me a strange look and said. “What was that, sweetheart? I couldn’t make out what you said. You going to have to speak up; these old ears don’t work as well as they used to.”

I gave the old man a smile, and said, “Sorry, I talk softly sometimes; I am going to  Grand Junction bus station. How far can you take me?”

The old man turned around and started to pull back onto the road, and said, “I will take you straight up to the front door of the bus station, honey. I couldn’t sleep at night if I didn’t know you were safe. By the way my name is John. What’s yours?”

“Melabeth, and thank you very much for your kindness.” I replied. Well, I knew two things. One, I would have to wait for the bus station to get something to eat. And two, I will not be able to have Carrie carry my bag for me. Now she is completely useless. Well, I would never tell Carrie this, but it is nice she does all the talking.

I don’t want to be alone.

David

D
avid Drye Journal February 4, 1990

I haven’t bothered to write anything down for awhile now. I have been too angry with the world, and my Dad. Or should I be calling him Peter, for disowning me for nothing. It has always been a mystery to me that Peter always freaked out every time something strange happened.

My Dad is great, fun, funny and kind. He manages the apartment building that we live in and everyone loves him. Yet it seems like the older I have been getting the weirder he acts whenever I say that something out of the ordinary has happened.

I used to go visit my mother in California often when I was little. Now strange stuff was always going on there and that’s why I stopped visiting my mother by the time I turned 12.  I would tell my father about what happened at Mom’s and then my father fought with my Mom and I haven’t visited her for two years now. I am just one month from my 16
th
birthday and now I am being forced to go live with her.

I guess that’s why my father had a problem with me being strange.  I must have reminded him too much of my mother. I really did miss Mom and it would be kind of cool to see my half sister and step sister. It’s kind of messed up that the only reason I get to see mom, is because of events out of my control.

I should journal what happened to me in the first place. That way in the future I could read this again and still not understand why this is all my fault. According to Peter, this was time for my mother to deal with me and that he wasn’t equipped to deal with me. What on earth does he mean by that? I asked him what he meant and he never really answered me.  He just said something along the lines of, your mother will explain everything to you, I can’t, and you wouldn’t understand if it came from me blah blah blah…  Well of course I can’t understand when you will not talk straight to your only son; how can I understand anything? And now it will all be made sense to me by my crazy mother, when I only talk to her on the phone once a month.

I can’t see how three black kids jumping me outside of our building could be grounds for removal. And that is one of those times a strange thing happened. The three gangbangers had caught me trying to take a short cut through the park. I know it was stupid, and I knew better than to go that way. I didn’t even see them until it was too late. I tried to run but one of the kids caught me and shoved me to the ground; I jumped back up to my feet only to find that I was surrounded. They shoved and kicked me calling me names. I was so scared but then I closed my eyes. I got mad, that’s all; I just wished I could make them feel my fear. I opened my eyes and was ready to fight them. That’s when I made the strange thing happen.

They all started screaming, like a bunch of girls. I was amazed, as they ran away screaming like hellhounds were after them. I went home kind of laughing to myself. That evening after my father got back in he had a date with Sue, their second evening out. I think he may be going for a record. I was just finishing my homework and was about to watch some TV, when the doorbell rang.

My father answered it. I looked up the hallway to see my Dad letting in some police officers. It wasn’t the first time the cops had come by. Sometimes there were problems around the building and the police would want to talk to the building
manager. I even remembered when there was a murder in one of the apartments.

This time the cops were not here for the building, but to talk to me. In short the gangbangers had ran to their homes and hid in their closets. All three kids did the same thing and they didn’t live together or anything. After about an hour of telling the cops over and over again, I didn’t do shit to those guys. The police finally left.

After that is when my Dad lost it. And the very next day he announced that I was going back to my mother’s. She lives in Beaumont CA, or also know has blowmont. The wind blows 360 days of the year. At least I will never have to comb my hair again.

*                    *                    *

After the old man had dropped me and Carrie off at the bus station, I went over and bought a ticket to San Bernardino, California. The bus didn’t leave until nine o’clock the next day. It was kind of nice when the sun came up; I was ready for a Carrie break. I slipped onto the bus and there was only one seat open. I sat down without making a noise.

Here I am reading over the boy’s shoulder, and apparently he doesn’t know I am here.  Some might think it is bad manners to read someone else’s journal; then again, I don’t need to listen to some other people’s rules. Ok I am definitely making excuses to snoop into somebody else's journal; a.k.a. a boy’s diary.

Well now that I am snooping, what he is going on about is really weird. Ok maybe I should try not to judge, but then again, judge and jury is my specialty. I can’t help but notice the boy is my age, taller than me and cute. He has sandy blonde hair that was shaggy and hung almost to his neck. He has a good build, but I can’t see his eyes, because they are concentrating on what he is writing. His pen stops moving and he looks out the window, lost in thought. He starts to write again:                                                                            

*
                    *                     *

Well I have had some suspicions of late concerning my mother and sisters; I think they know something about me. How else would I explain their strange behavior when I visited? It would not explain why my mother did not tell me.

I have done things that many would consider magic; whether or not that makes it magic is yet to be explored. I need to be careful of what I write down, it could be tragic to me if anyone else were to read it, for they are sure to believe me to be crazy.

*                  *                    *

As he finished writing his last sentence, it was hard to keep from laughing, for apparently I was making this tragic for him.

He turned and looked right at me. He froze, just staring at me with his pretty green eyes. At first, I thought he was staring at me like someone he just caught reading his journal. That was probably just a guilty conscience speaking, but then I noticed something else in his face.

He looked confused, then surprised and finally a little bit scared. I was still wearing my hoodie; I turned my head forward. The hoodie hung over enough so that now we had no eye contact. We only had stared at each other for a few seconds, but it was enough to make me feel uncomfortable. I wondered how I looked to people.  Most people just seemed to be uncomfortable with me.

When he looked at me, it was like he could see me for what I was, and there was no question to it. The bus made a lot of noise as it began to move; at the same time,
with my second sight, I could see David putting away his journal into his backpack. He then began to pull out something I had never seen before; it was hard not to turn my head to see it with my own eyes because my second sight just showed me shapes.

It looked like he was putting a small record into a walkman. I could make out the earphones he put over his head. Then, with my amazing hearing, when he started the music, it was like I was wearing those headphones myself. And the music was like nothing I had ever heard before. I loved it.

About a half hour later, David was still listening to music, looking out the bus window. He turned off the music; I really hated that he did that; I was really enjoying it. Then he looked over at me.

“No one sits that still,” he said with a kind but careful voice. I didn’t answer him; I didn’t know what to say.

“My name is David… sorry for being rude earlier. You kind of surprised me; I am not used to people sneaking up on me.” David said, still looking right at me. I wasn’t sure if I should talk to him or not. After a minute, he turned his head back toward the bus window; he started to put his earphones back on.

“My name is Melabeth,” I said quickly, before he had a chance to start up his music.

David turned his head toward me and said, “That’s a cool name; I have never heard that name before.”

“Well, I made it up” I said, still not looking at him.

David let out a laugh, it was wonderful. It made me turn and look at him. This time I didn’t turn away from him. Wow, he was good looking; I could look at that all day long. On the other hand, the look on his face was a cross between scared and intrigued.

Then David said, “Those are the most amazing eyes that I have ever witnessed. They’re the color of lightning, and I could swear that they belonged to an owl before you had them; they’re huge… and pretty.”

If I could have, I would have blushed. I had forgotten that I had taken off my sunglasses; I knew from looking in the mirror how strange my eyes were. The way he said it made me feel like giggling.

I kept the giggles in, and said, “thank you, your eyes are really pretty too.” Well, I may not have giggled, but he is going to think I am retarded by my response. Big eyes, small brain.

He smiled at me, and I was captivated by him; then he said, “So where are you going?”

“California, and what did you mean by no one sits that still,” I said a little worried that he might think me weird.

“Well… for the last half hour or so, you haven’t moved one little inch. In fact I could swear you weren’t even breathing.” David said, trying to keep eye contact with me. I could see he was nervous just saying it.

Well, I had to wonder if he knew or guessed what I was. So I said, “How could you know; you have been staring out that window the entire time; you haven’t looked my way even once.” Well, there, I got him now, let’s see him answer that.

“I could see you perfectly… from the reflection of the window.” David said defensively, then added “wait, you never moved your head…how did… never mind.”

He was now visibly nervous and unable to make eye contact with me. He turned his head and faced out the window.

"What's wrong? Did I say something to upset you?" Even though he was the one saying I was acting weird. And, yes, he was right; I was weird, but I am not sure he knows that I am not human.

He let out a breath, then turned and looked at me. "It's not you, it's me. I always do this. I meet someone, then I think something strange about them and next they don't want to hang with me. I have an overactive imagination. That’s what my father says."

"You didn't upset me." I smiled and said, "Relax, and trust me when I say, there are things out there that defy belief. You may just be seeing things that everyone else is turning a blind eye to."

David looked at me and gave me a smirk, then said, "I see… so you were reading over my shoulder."

I laughed a little bit and said, “Now why would you think a thing like that? I do believe your dad may be right about that overactive imagination.”

David said, “That wasn’t a denial. If you didn’t read it, then I think I should let you know that strange things happen to me. And sometimes I see things. It’s really hard to explain, but I look at people and sometimes, it’s like I can see their soul under their skin. When I look at you… well” he started to blush. “It's like your soul is on the outside; you seem like you’re magical or something. See, I
told you I don’t make a lot of sense.” I could see his embarrassment.

I reached over and gently laid my hand on his hand. David froze; I then said, “you make sense, you make sense to me.” David turned his head back toward me and looked at me with a look that I couldn’t figure out. “You seemed like you were going to say something else when you said, “when, I look at you.””

David, with that strange look in his eyes, said, “I was going to say that you were beautiful beyond compare.” He looked down at our hands touching, and then looked back into my eyes “what are you?”

I let go of his hand. That had been a mistake; I let him know something, but I am not sure how or what. So I figured the best answer for someone as special as David, would be “just a girl” I lied.

David gave me a little smile, “Okay. I can deal with that.”

I don’t know if I can trust this guy, but I wanted to. He was so pretty, and I just wanted to touch and bite him. Well, I better keep my hands to myself. I need to do something normal, even though that feels like a hundred years ago. Less than one week ago it was 1975, and I was a girl, a girl swinging on an old swing set, dreaming of meeting prince charming, becoming a doctor and having a family.

Before the sadness could swallow me alive, I said, “What were you listening to on your walkman?”

David gave me a look. The look of what planet did you come from, and then he said, “That was Michael Jackson. Where have you been? And this isn’t a walkman
it’s a compact CD player. My dad got it for me at Christmas. Isn’t it the coolest thing? I bet he paid close to 300 dollars for it. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound braggish or something. I just get real excited with new technology. I am kind of hoping I can save up for a computer.”

Carrie’s nonstop talking was starting to pay off. I knew that a lot of people had computers in their homes. And she had mentioned that there was a CD player, kind of like a record, only instead of a needle, it uses a laser. It was hard to believe her when she told me, but there it is in that boy’s lap.

I gave the boy a smile; I will tell the boy the truth. So I said, “That is really cool. I haven’t kept up with technology because I was buried in the ground in 1975. I have only been out of the ground for a few days.”