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The Price of Silver
by Tony Wayne Brown
Waking up, I hear a noise outside and see a large woman with a scarred face standing in my yard, accompanied by a menagerie of unsavory-looking associates. None look the sort that you’d turn your back on, and none are attractive either, especially the grotesque woman.
It’s obvious to everyone but me that a deal has been made already that someone is moving into my house; someone who is among the undead bunch of zombie freaks giving me frozen eyeball stares. I start hoping that whichever ogre amongst them that is moving in at least takes a yearly bath, whether needed or not.
The crowd parts like a beauty school dropout’s first haircut, and there stands a princess zombie if I ever did see one. Of course, I never really have seen one, so I’m just estimating, you see. I wasn’t concerned by my pad’s hoarder-like appearance, but now that a pasty-white beauty has appeared among the beasts, I wish I’d taken time to clean up.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I say, tossing a blanket over the torn mattress that serves as my bed because my bedroom is filled to the brim with headless dolls. I’ve still not really overcome the grogginess of having just woken up, but as the ugly woman nears me I recognize that she’s someone I met in a lowlife bar somewhere to whom I’d mentioned I lived alone.
She’s one of those women who don’t look good no mattter how late it is or how much you’ve imbibed. She’d said something about her daughter needing a place to live and I realize they’re here for that reason.
I see that there’s few teeth to be found amongst the crowd, even my vision of loveliness, who is missing all of her lower middle teeth, and her teeth above have lengthened like fangs. Now I figure maybe she’s not a zombie after all, but a vampiress, if that’s what females of that ilk are called, that is.
I’ve only seen zombies in movies, so the idea of them having such a stench hadn’t occurred to me, but after all, they are dead, aren’t they, and death never smells good.
The woman’s frog-like voice hisses, “You said you had space . Here’s Vanessa!”
“Good to see you, Vanessa. There’s a couple of pieces of cardboard on top of the clothes in the living room you can sleep on for now.”
"How per-fect! Cardboard has such a lovely texture, don’t you think? It’ll be just like home!” Vanessa says. She plants a slobbery kiss on my mouth. To my surprise, I discover that Vanessa must indeed be a vampire and not a zombie, since her breath is fresh, though she does have red stains on her molars.
“It’s settled then,” her mother says, and a number of her acquaintances dropped boxes presumably containing my guest’s belongings. With no further words, everyone but Vanessa departs, walking like penguins with their arms held out straight, just like in the movies.
I am alone with her and her breasts beckon. “I hope you like it here. It’s not much, but it’s where I hang my hat.”
Vanessa looks at my floor-to-ceiling hoard. “It’s quite lovely, actually. ”
I decided to take advantage of my new boarder. “Why don’t we step out and get to know each other?”
At her nod, I take her hand and lead her to my battered pickup and open the door for her.
"Such a gentleman!”
“All for you, my dear.”
The purplish night sky is surreal, the colors vivid and fixed like a painting of death as the asphalt curves up the hill into River City, but it’s alive with the sounds of people at a garish nightspot.
The place is so filled with smoke it seems to be on fire, but I see that it’s a hemp-smoking shop where Indian guys with untamed beards are smoking and chanting in some foreign language. Another guy with twisted knots of hair is chanting the same thing as the first two men as smoke pours out of his mouth.
Down the counter are a number of druggie types wandering hither and yon, most seemingly too stoned to know what planet they’re on, but even they are chanting, “I will not help them” as a mantra.
“Two whiskeys, neat,” I say.
Despite the mist of smoke, I notice that everyone’s eyes are fixed upon my companion, stares too stern to be ones of admiration.
The proprietor leans over the bar and sticks his face two inches from mine, a pair of horns that would do a prize Texas steer proud protruding through his Stetson hat. A badge with “Sheriff Taylor” stamped on it is attached to his shirt.
“You never been here before, have you, pardner?”
I see a revolver in a holster at his side and sense there’s trouble brewing here in River City. Despite the man’s drawl, it’s obvious that he’s not from around these here parts.
“I didn’t have a suitable companion until now, Sheriff.”
“You think this... being you’re here with is a suitable companion, do you now?”
I’m deciding whether yes or no is the best answer when suddenly, “Oyez, oyez,” is coming from a bald-headed man standing on the counter. “Court’s in session, the honorable Gordon Goodfellow, presiding.”
A large man with tusks sweeping up his face comes from nowhere and sits at a chair behind the bar. “Guilty of aiding and abetting a vampire!” the judge declares, without a word of testimony.
“I think you forgot one little thing,” Vanessa says.
“And what might that one little thing be?”
“I am a vampire, after all. I do have certain powers.”
Sheriff Taylor clears his throat. “Perhaps we were a tad hasty, Your Honor. I couldn’t miss her heart at this range, but do you have any idea of what solid silver bullets go for these days?”
The judge raps his gavel. “Upon closer examination of the facts in this matter, case dismissed!"
USAF veteran Tony Wayne Brown, who holds a BA in Communications from East Carolina University, has won contests by Union Writers and Art Forum and received honorable mentions from Writer’s Digest and Writer’s Journal. His work has appeared over fifty times in the past three years, including The Huffington Post, Foliate Oak (University of Arkansas), Birmingham Arts Journal, Bartleby Snopes, cahoodadoodaling, Infective Ink, The Storyteller, Notes Magazine, Sleeping Cat Books, Whortleberry Press Books, In Between Altered Spaces, Perpetual Motion Machine Books, Moon Magazine, Gemini, Static Press, The Dying Goose, Writers Haven, and Every Writers Resource. Tony is nearing completion of his first novel, a psychological thriller entitled, A Love Story For Sharon (An Unexpected Love), while continuing to write short stories. Contact Tony.
