The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I had missed the last train, I reminded myself; as I'd thrown backward to the red brick of the station.

The grock had punched me hard to the gut, then used an uppercut to my jaw, which is the blow that had sent me flying upward then back, to the stations red brick wall, where I hit it hard with the back of my head.

“Don't hit him again Scotty!” The black-haired girl in a red dress screamed at her man, clutching at his muscles, “I don't think he was looking at me!”

“Yes he was,” the large sted-head had snarled in response.

Oh gawd, no I hadn't.

I had not noticed the girl in the red dress till I'd been looking at the train timetable and seen her in my peripherary.

Then I'd lain there, on the rain-slick pavement, looking up at the stars, as others whirled round before my eyes.

“He was... looking at you... and I...” he heard the big man say.

My right leg is raised a little as my head looks at the
No I wasn't, I want to scream.

But I don't, instead I allow the dark to take me, while I hear the couples voices still.

“Don't hurt him anymore Scotty please?” She had entreated, from a distance far away.

The young man heard her speak to him, then silence had ensued as the Grock had responded with a loud and distinct 'harrumph.”

Chapter Two

It had been dark, when I'd fallen into unconcsiousness, now when I open my eyes it is light and, I am alone and, there is no pavement beneath me.

And, that really confuses me.

No crowds, no Scotty and the girl in red; no red brick behind my back and, a new moon in the sky high above me, sitting there amidst a light blue sky.

Needless to say, I was confused.

I sat slowly, every movement sending memories if pain.

Still dressed as I had been, I blink several times trying to mascertain where I was.

'Well, you're not in Kansas anymore,' I mutter, trying to to stand and, making the mistake of looking around as I did so.

It had been dark with crowded city streets, now it was light and there was no-one to see around me.

I rose with my hand to the redbrick of Central Station, stumbling a little on the cobbles beneath my feet.

I'm unsteady, my head aches and my blurred vision is returning slowly.

Yet I stand, in bewildermen; nothing was as it had been.

I nearly fall twice, as I stumble up London Road, thankful for a change there is no traffic, at this half of the road.

And I listen, there is no traffic, none...

So I continue to walk, my steps unsteady as I do so, as I make my way towards the Chinese Arch, it's gold paint relecting the sunlight.

That causes me to look upward. I see two suns, much to my shock.

'It's strange,' I think to myself, as I stare upward.

Abruptly I turn away, spots dancing across my eyes.

I blink twice, my left hand finding the window of a red cross shop, palm open to provide myself support, as I try to find my balance.

Suddenly I hear giggling, echoing from side to side of the buildings around me.

It frustrates me, as my vision is only returning slowly.

I want to know nore of where I am. I don't want to panic at the giggling...

Yet, I am.

Nothing is as it should be; nothing seems true and above, there are two sons.

I slide down to the floor and sit with my back against the shop, trying to remind myself not to look at the anomaly above me.

Confused, I shake my head as if to clear my head.

It doesn't work.

'This is a nightmare,' I tell myself. 'This is nowhere like where I was, but it does look like where I was, but different.'

Resting awhile, I search my pockets for my tin, which I find. Next I locate my black Clipper, then light a pre-roll and sigh, as I inhale the blue-grey acrid smoke, seeking the drive that would lead me to the next moment.

And abuptly, I hear the giggling again. And I'm sure I know the voice.

So I dock my smoke, placing the dimp into my tin, that I stash in my coats lefthand pocket, with my Clipper lighter.

The sound amidst the silence has left me feeling incredibly nervous, as I continue to rise from the pavement.

From a dark bustling city, to this quiet empty city was disarming, to say the very least. Yet here I am and anxiety grows, as I hear that inane giggling for a third time.

Swirling my head round, I listen for the sound of the voice, curious still as to why I recognise the voice.

Chapter Three

“Kevin?” I hear, then the giggling for a fourth time.

I can't help but feel concerned as to why the giggling voice knows my forename.
That's yet another reason to feel bewildered, other than the two suns above me.

I want to feel in control, as I seek to stand again. I want to. Yet that is so hard to find, as I manage to stand upright once again.

Chapter Four

I walk, on a bright sunny day, towards Clarence Street and St.Brides, where I had done voluntary work, many years ago.

I was walking in the middle of the road, as there was no traffic and, in truth nothing to be seen.

No-one. I was alone.

Yet, I continued walking, finally arriving breathless at the top of the hill, turning to look back at the city, with two suns above me.

I blinked once and twice, as I had glanced toward the suns, still trying to acclimatise myself to where I was.

It was just strange and surreal, the world was so similar to what I knew, yet so different.

My head whirled and I felt like crying.

Here I was in an empty city, with more than one sun above me and no-one to look to for advice, or any form of encouragement.

I sigh...

Then I sigh again, wondering what to do next.

Suddenly I hear the giggling again and, I recognise the voice, this time and it disconcerts me greatly.

The voice is a manic version of my own.

What surprises me next was annoying in the extreme, as I fell again, to my knees and then further still.

Chapter Five

I woke to a dark world with rain falling on my face, as a people passed me by.

The station was behind me once again and, I felt the pain from the blow. I looked across to where the attacker had been, thankful he had left.

Yet I had missed time, as I'd been transported to the other place and as I stood, I looked to my watch.

There was eleven minutes to go till the last train and I rose and ran.

"Have you a ticket?" I was asked at the gate.

"Uh-huh," I answer the fellow there, showing my return.

I make my way to the escalator, then allow it to take me down to the platorm, my heart beating fast as I look to my watch again.

Five mintes to go.

After all the strangeness, I'd get home and my bed.

Time passes as I look to the other late night travellers; there are a few, but not many.

Some of the people I look at are inabriereated, others look tired and one or two just look tired.

All show shock though, when a young woman leaps to the track, moments before the train comes through the tunnel.

People scream, she does not.

My mouth opens and I can't make a sound, after all what is there to say and who would I want to say it to.

Chapter Six

The transport police arrived and after giving a statement, an old-style black cab had been ordered for me, to take me home.

I stand at the end of the drive watching the taxi pull away as the new day began, aware that little would ever be the same again.

I now have an awareness of a world that is not my own, yet exists.

Chapter Seven

I slept well, strangely.

My body was badly bruised, yet as I slowly awaken there is a lack of any pain.

That puzzles me.

I recall the assault as I had sought travel home.

I remember the place that was and not was the city that I knew and I push my duvet away and seek the bathroom, quickly.

My head hurts and my guts roil, as I stumble, as if on autopilot.

Finally I kneel before the enamel throne and raise the seat, spraying the insides with the contents of the prior day, again and again.

There is so much to think of, yet here I am puking my guts up, until I heave try.

I stand slowly, my right hand to the wall.

Sploshing water on my face, I dry off and seek my bed again, trying to restore some form of coherance to my thoughts.

Chapter Eight

So, I sit cross-legged on the edge of my bed drawing my laptop on a trolley toward me.

I fire it up and look at my watch.

It's early in the morning, hence the birdsong outside my window, as the machine starts up.

Finally the wordro app is open and I crouch forward to type, my fingers paused over the keys.

I write with my mind a blur as my fingers seem to work away on their own, as they put words to the formerly blank page before me.

And, having found my pace I continue onward, trying to describe to myself and the world, the events of the previous night, as the birdsong finishes and the blue sky of the day begins.

It is when I finish typing that I sit back and stretch.

I sit forward again, to look at what I have written, my mind in a whirl as I wonder what I can title the piece.

A Day Apart

Earlier that day he had found a well-worn paper-back, stuffed tightly behind those already on the shelf. He had removed the book, blowing dust from it, then read its title: A Day Apart.

He had held the book with it resting on the palm of his right hand, his fingertips supporting the cover. Then as the pages fluttered open, the book fell to the pages read most open.

'As the warm rain fell lightly on his forehead, the young man looked up at the bright blue sky. There was hardly a cloud in sight, yet still the rain continued to fall, as it had for several hours and he thought to himself, “Why does it always seem to land on me?”'