The Near Fatal Consequences of Cornelius Reading's Christmas Preparations: III

PART THREE

Sorry about the delay, I had a fever and a headeache and so I was preoccupied pitying myself rather than write on New Year's Eve. Besides there was the Royal Variety Show on TV, and then I simply forgot about the whole thing.

"Oh," said Cornelius. "You're... Charlotte's mother, aren't you?"

"Yes, Georgia Walsh," beamed Charlotte's mother, extending a hand to shake Cornelius'. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Charlotte's talked a bit about you, you know. I just thought I'd come over, I couldn't help but notice you're decorating your house for Christmas."

Charlotte had, thank your deity of choice, managed to scramble up and to the side when the door was opened wide, and hid from her mother's view, crouching on the stairs leading up to the second floor. The first thought she'd had, was that her mother had come to ask Cornelius why her daughter was at his house. But if that had been the reason behind the visit, there was no way her mom would have come over in a friendly manner, and she probably wouldn't have introduced him to her second daughter either.

"This is my other daughter, Victoria," Charlotte's mother said, still smiling and showing an unnatural amount of bleached white teeth at Cornelius, who was slightly unnerved by the sight as vampires would hiss and show teeth to threaten.

Georgia Walsh prodded her youngest daughter. "Come on, say hello Victoria!"
"Mom!" the fourteen-year-old hissed in embarrassment, which the mother only chuckled at in that patronising, humiliating way only mothers can chuckle at their offspring.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr Reading," Victoria continued, trying to appear unfazed by her embarrassing mom.
Charlotte would have laughed at her sister's utter mortification if it hadn't been for her utter mortification at the thought of Cornelius speaking to her mother. Given the chance her mom would end up telling him every single embarrassing thing she had ever done since she was born, and that was a lot. Plus, if she had laughed, her mother would have heard her.

Cornelius seemed to have overcome the shock of seeing Charlotte's mother on his doorstep. "How nice of you to come over! Charlotte's not with you, is she?"

Charlotte mentally screamed at him not to mention her, but the damage was already done.
"No, sorry, she's at choir practice. Ran out the door not thirty minutes ago. Actually, she'd be quite an accomplished singer if she just focused on her vocal studies."

Victoria rolled her eyes, Charlotte thought something along the lines of "not in a million years," and even Cornelius didn't agree. The Magical Mister Mistoffeles came to the door and sat down beside Cornelius' feet, and when Victoria saw him she was immediately enthralled by the kitty cuteness.

"How adorable!"

Georgia Walsh however, had a dislike of cats and just glanced at the cat before looking at Cornelius again. Actually, she thought, he looked rather handsome. After keeping track of that neighbour, hiding behind curtains in the dark, she'd never gotten a good look at him. He looked rather nice.

"We brought you this!" she said.

Charlotte heard the rustle of plastic and then there was a long silence. She thought in horror at what her mom had presented, seeing as they had decided not to give any neighbour-gifts this year. It was probably something her mom had found in a hurry, something she didn't want, something horrible.

"Oh," Cornelius managed to croak out at last, either surprised or secretly terribly horrified of his gift. "Why thank you!"

He then remembered his manners, and more importantly his need to appear normal. So he did what he thought any normal person would do.

"But where are my manners - Mrs Walsh, why don't you and your daughter come in for some coffee?"

Charlotte resisted the urge to scream and run down to whack him over the head, and instead scurried upstairs before her mother could even answer.

"We'd love to!" Georgia Walsh said, and waltzed past him in a manner that made it quite clear that the invitation had been her goal all along. Charlotte slipped into the bathroom and waited in the dark until she was sure nobody downstairs could see her.

My mom is about to have coffee with my vampire sire, Charlotte thought, and as if that isn't enough, so is my irritating fourteen-year-old sister. But I can manage this. She thought about it and then added, I hope.

She'd have to tell Cornelius to tell her mother to leave in a polite but firm manner, or have him convince the crazy woman he was utterly boring, otherwise he'd never get rid of her. There'd be weekly visits, coffee at each other's houses, and Charlotte would eventually be forced to come along, enduring hours of boredom while her mom gabbled on about nothing with Cornelius.

While his fledgling was freaking out in the bathroom, Cornelius led Charlotte's mom and sister into the living room. The oldest woman pretended not to notice the mess. Victoria seemed intrigued.

"Are you alone here?" Charlotte's mom asked. "I thought I saw someone else."

"Oh, that was, um, Lottie, she's upstairs, in the shower. Always takes hours."

"Lottie?" repeated Mrs Walsh, rather nosily now. After observing him for a bit over four months, it was finally time to talk to that neighbour and get some answers.

"My fiancé," Cornelius blurted, re-using the lie they had served Lord Nightstalker at the castle. Immediately, his face turned beet red.

Mrs Walsh sat course for the only empty chair in the living room, the one Charlotte had sat in just ten minutes before, and sank comfortably down in it. "Have you set your date yet?"

Cornelius' eyes widened. On the left arm rest, a few inches from where Mrs Walsh's hand was resting, there were two tiny drops of blood left behind. Charlotte's mom used his pause to gesticulate at her younger daughter to sit down. Victoria sighed and sat down on a couch armrest, away from the wires and lights and bits and bobs of Cornelius' light show.

"We haven't decided yet," he smiled.

"I must admit, you sound familiar," Charlotte's mother commented.

Cornelius found himself looking for a way to escape. Funny that after four-hundred-and-something-now-really-it's-just-rude-to-ask years as a vampire, he'd feel threatened by a human female.

"Oh I - do I? Well, I guess I have one of those voices, it's nothing special, really-"

"Oh my god!" Victoria exclaimed. "You're the one singing, on that Christmas CD! Mom plays it all the time!"

"Not all the time," Mrs Walsh protested, before she turned to Cornelius again with an adoring look. "Mr Reading, I am your biggest fan!"

"That's nice," Cornelius stuttered, backing slowly away from her. "Well, Mrs Walsh, I promised you coffee, didn't I?"

"Please, call me Georgia," Charlotte's mother called after him as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Poor Cornelius jumped when someone knocked gently on the kitchen window. He spun around, ridiculously big knife at the ready, and saw Charlotte on the other side of the window-pane.

"What's with the knife?" she whispered when he opened the window.

"Nevermind. I thought it was someone else," Cornelius breathed silently. "I've never had fans before. I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"You told her you sing in that choir?" Charlotte sighed. Of course, if there was anything worse than having a fourteen-year-old fangirl sister it was having a fifty-year-old fangirl mother. Her family would always bring out her need to scream.

"Just make her coffee and get her out," Charlotte hissed.

"Alright," Cornelius muttered, putting something down at the counter. Charlotte saw the something, and scrunched her face up in disgust. Her mother had given Cornelius a fruitcake. The one that old aunt Mildred had made and gifted to them - before she died four years ago.

"Word of advice," Charlotte added, "whatever you do, don't eat that cake. Don't even pretend to eat it."

"I'll be fine. Coffee, and out," Cornelius repeated. He looked rather relieved for a second, but then he got a panicked look. Charlotte quickly deduced he didn't have any coffee in the house, and ran across the road to rob her mom's kitchen. Really, this was getting ridiculous.

As Cornelius put down two steaming hot moccas in front of her mom and sister, Charlotte was climbing in a window on the second floor.

"This tastes wonderful!" Mrs Walsh commented, unaware it was the same coffee she complained about at home.

Victoria put down her cup after one sip. "Mr Reading, could I use the bathroom?"

"Sure," Cornelius said. Mrs Walsh and Charlotte, the last who was back at the top of the stairs, listening in to what they said downstairs, wondered what was going on. Victoria liked to pretend she had no bowel movements.

Charlotte drew back when her sibling came up the stairs. Victoria didn't see her watching behind the door to Cornelius' bedroom. Charlotte's sister listened for sound at the bathroom door, before she opened one of the other doors, leading in to a room Cornelius used to stash all his mess in. Then she entered silently.

Charlotte was momentarily distracted by the sight of a huge pile of Christmas presents inside the room, so it took her a moment to understand what the girl was doing.

It wasn't like Victoria to nose around. Both sisters were goody two shoes in comparison to lots of others, but Victoria was a saint compared to Charlotte, who insisted on learning martial arts instead of the noble arts of song and piano playing. But now she was sneaking around the house of a neighbour.

Victoria re-entered the hallway and decided on another room. Of course she had to choose the one I'm hiding in, Charlotte grumbled silently, pressing herself against the wall behind the door and hoping she wouldn't be noticed.

The door opened wide, almost touching Charlotte, who held her breath for some reason. Victoria walked in, not noticing she was being watched. Charlotte observed, still holding her breath, desperate to figure out what her sister deduced from what she saw.

Cornelius' bedroom was just that, a room with a bed, a wardrobe, and a small heap of laundry in the corner. Cornelius was neat but decades of being a bachelor rubbed off on him.

The room wasn't in use though, except for when Mistoffeles needed a quiet place to snooze and curled up in the middle of the bed. Cornelius was a traditionalist and slept in a coffin. However he kept that hidden down in the basement, behind a secret door, just in case someone should come looking.


Victoria walked up to the side of the bed and swept her hand across the nightstand, picking up a thin layer of dust. She turned with a triumphant grin, and Charlotte got the horrible feeling that Victoria knew. But how?

Before Charlotte could formulate a plan or decide whether she should confront her sister, their mother called for Victoria. "Darling, we have to go now!"

Victoria jumped at the sound and hurried out of the room. She closed the door silently behind her.

Charlotte waited until her family had left, letting the faint sounds of goodbyes wash over her. Then she walked down. The waiting time had given her no ideas on how to break this to Cornelius.

He waited in the entrance, got one look at her face, and sighed. "Calm down."

"I am calm," Charlotte replied tonelessly.

"Then drop that shell-shocked face, you're scaring me."

Charlotte rubbed her eyes, feeling another headache coming on. Today's crisis had unexpectedly escalated into gigantic proportions in the manner of just twenty minutes. She chose to tackle the easiest problem first and work herself upwards. When she was finished saving Cornelius' reputation she could tackle AIDS or world hunger.

"What were they doing here?"

"I don't know, your mother said she noticed my Christmas lights. But then she also said a lot of other things. She doesn't seem to like poor Mrs Spitznogle."

"She says a lot of stupid things, especially about Mrs Spitznogle."

"So I noticed."

Cornelius had in no way been prepared for the gossip-fuelled woman and fumed silently while cleaning up the mess she had left. But at the very least she had believed him when he told her the blood drops on the chair was ketchup left behind by his messy fiancé. His mood lightened considerably when he spotted a red bow that had decorated the fruitcake Mrs Walsh had brought along, in the mess. He had made Mrs Walsh eat two slices of the fruitcake, claiming he was deadly allergic to nuts and apples, so at the very least his rare guests would have to enjoy the lovely cake. This might have had something to do with her sudden need to clean her kitchen before dinner.

He picked the bow up. "This would look adorable on Misty," he commented and looked around for the cat, which was found napping on the kitchen counter. Charlotte followed him absent-mindedly.

The Magical Mister Mistoffeles saw his owner and the bow coming, and had his claws at the ready.

At first Charlotte had been seriously worried about how Cornelius acted around the cat, afraid he was losing what little sanity was left after four-hundred-and-something-alright-I-admit-it-I-don't-remember-my-age years as a creature of the night. Then she realised it was standard for all cat owners to obsess and coo and act really weird. Besides, now she had a more pressing matter on hand. If Cornelius was found out, so could she be. And Charlotte could be grounded.

"You will be even more adorable with this," Cornelius insisted, quickly followed by an exclamation of pain, and then, "Alright, maybe not."

"We need to talk," Charlotte said, and Cornelius turned with scratched hands and a slightly panicked expression, the last akin to that every male will wear when hearing those four fatal words from the mouth of a female.

"What have I done wrong?" he asked, hoping not to get "nothing" in reply.

"It's not you, it's my family," Charlotte started.

And that was all she had time to say before both vampires froze. There was a faint sound at the front door, and someone crept into the house, meaning to be silent, but to a vampire's keen ears it was obvious someone was there. Cornelius motioned to Charlotte to remain where she was while he checked it out. She was tempted to ignore him and follow, make sure he was safe, but stayed in the kitchen in case it was her mom coming back. Charlotte decided getting up from bed this morning had been a huge mistake.

Cornelius wasn't sure who or what to expect, but when Victoria stepped into the living room, he concluded that he hadn't expected her.

"God, I thought she'd never leave!" the teen blurted.

Cornelius blinked. "Did you forget anything?"

"No."

"Oh," he said. There was a pause, and he continued, trying to sound polite. "Then why are you here?"

"I know what you are," Victoria said.

Her words hit like a sledgehammer. Inside the kitchen Charlotte ranted off the worst tirade ever against her idiot bird-headed sister. Cornelius would have to play obvious, and luckily he had a natural talent for that, or Victoria would have to be silenced, somehow. Charlotte didn't know what happened to humans who discovered the dark secret, but she couldn't think of anything nice, and there was no way in hell she would allow her sister to become a vampire like them - eternity was going to be sanity-wrecking enough without a little sister to come along for the ride.

"What I am?" Cornelius asked, frowning at the girl. "What do you mean?"

Victoria didn't waver. "You want me to say it, out loud?"

Charlotte was reminded of Shadow, Lord Nightstalker's brainless girlfriend and occasional midnight snack. This was the result of allowing teenyboppers to read sappy vampire fiction.

Cornelius didn't get the reference and only shrugged. "If you'd like, I suppose. You could whisper or yell too. What's this about?"

"Vampire."

"What?"

"You're a vampire."

"No, I'm not."

"Don't deny it."

Charlotte took the chance Victoria's attention was glued to her supposed vampire neighbour, and peeked around the corner. Cornelius didn't look very happy to be called a vampire. Victoria didn't look very intimidated by confronting a several hundred years old bloodsucker.

"Are you serious?" Cornelius asked, eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

"You know I am."

Cornelius scrambled for something that would prove him not-vampire. "Really," he laughed. "And since when did vampires start decorating their suburbian homes for Christmas? I thought they'd rather inhabit old, drafty castles."

Victoria frowned at this, but shook her head. "You're just trying to fit in. But you'd never have to hide from me. I could be your friend."

Charlotte's need to slap her sibling increased drastically. She ducked into the kitchen again to get her anger under control. Deep breaths.

"Listen to yourself, you're coming across as rather crazy. Your mother would be worried if she heard you." Charlotte silently cheered Cornelius on. Threatened with their mother, both sisters would resort to easy escapes.

Cornelius took a step towards Victoria, aiming to take her by the arm, guide her out and then run into the kitchen to freak out with Charlotte. Freaking out would be nice now. Only, he had overestimated the calm outside of the teen, who jumped when the vampire stepped closer and reached for her secret weapon.
"I'm armed," Victoria yelled, voice a bit shaky.
Cornelius automatically ducked when she pulled something out of a pocket. Charlotte automatically popped her head out into the living room again, her need for knowing and having control overriding any sense of self-preservation.
Both vampires looked at Victoria's hands and realised she held a tiny gold crucifix in front of herself. Cornelius straightened himself. Charlotte recognised the gold ornament. It was hers, from the necklace her grandma had given to her, and that thieving little thief of a sister had nicked it from her room.

"You're allergic to crosses, you live in the dark," Victoria argued, motioning to the drawn blinds that still bathed the first floor in shadows.

Cornelius thought against telling Victoria the truth and stared at the cross in her shaking hands.

He sighed. "As if crucifixes would work," he complained, feeling rather sheepish after the dodge. "I thought you were going to throw something at me, so I ducked."

"So you are a vampire."

"No, I'm- I just told you that crucifixes don't work, didn't I?" Cornelius had the sudden urge to punch something. Not every vampire managed to out himself to a female teenager, despite what popular literature might have to say.

Victoria stared, wide eyed.

Charlotte held her breath again - strange, despite being a vampire, mostly dead, she still had to breathe, and have a beating heart and a working brain. So she wasn't completely dead. She wasn't even half dead. But if her sister ended up in any kind of trouble related to Charlotte - and Cornelius most certainly was, it wouldn't be long before their mother killed her.

"Oh - my - god!" the tween exulted, the realisation finally sinking in. "You are a vampire! This is so cool!"

"Uh-oh," Cornelius muttered.

"Wait till my friends hear about it! And don't worry, vampires are so hot right now. You'll be like, the coolest person ever!"

Cornelius seemed frozen. Charlotte thought in horror at what would happen if her sister was allowed to leave the house. It was a miracle she hadn't tweeted about it yet.

Victoria turned her back towards a potentially dangerous creature, obviously thinking herself safe from Cornelius. Charlotte would have to have a word with her about that kind of idiocy, but before that she would have to protect someone else.

Charlotte didn't stop to think before she ran after her sister and hauled the girl into the room again by her collar. Victoria yelped and landed on the floor with a surprised oof! and then looked up with fear in her eyes, expecting Cornelius to have hurt her. When she saw her sister instead, her fear quickly turned to irritation.

She looked to be about to open her mouth, either to yell at Charlotte for manhandling her or to ask her sister what the hell she was doing here, Cornelius presumed, when Charlotte hissed, baring her full set of very sharp and very scary teeth at her sister.

Victoria stared some more, in true horror this time, and then she fainted. Cornelius looked down at her. A pile of wires had taken her fall, and the lights had somehow been switched on by the impact, so now she lay sprawled on top of the blinking, multicoloured Christmas lights looking like some serial killer's seasonal ornament.

Charlotte was lost to the world in a silent panic attack. A hysterical loop of "Oh-my-gosh-what-do-I-do-now-she-knows-oh-my-gosh-what-do-I-do," was put on repeat inside her skull. Through the haze she heard Cornelius clear his throat.

"Have anyone told you you're incredibly scary at times?"

"You might have mentioned it once or twice."

"I think I have."

They stared at Victoria again.

"No need to be so rough with her, she's your sister."

"And?" Charlotte scoffed. "Little bitch stole my shampoo last week." She remembered her necklace and fished it out of Victoria's jacket. "Brought this upon myself, if you ask me."

The tough act melted away. "Please tell me there's some way to make her forget, what I did was so stupid, she'll never be able to keep her fucking mouth shut."

"I might know someone who knows someone who would be perfect for dealing with this," Cornelius said. "She's a hypnotist, I'm sure she can make your sister forget."

"I hope."

"Look on the bright side, this day can't get much worse," Cornelius said.

"Let's not tempt fate."

"I'll just go get my phone then." Cornelius had a look around before he realised it was in his pocket.

Charlotte sat down on the floor in defeat and hissed an honest yet affectionate "Idiot!" to her sister.

Cornelius revisited the vague memories of his smaller brother. The boy had the whole village in an uproar one time they played hide-and-seek. Emanuel was really good at hiding, and there was no way he would come out before he was found, even if it was past midnight and everyone looked for him because they thought he had been killed or carried off by a wolf.

He looked at Charlotte. "You want a strong coffee?"

"That would be perfect, thanks."

"Coming up," Cornelius said, walking into the kitchen. While the coffee brewed he called for help.

"Hello?" a gruff, familiar voice responded. Unlike Cornelius some vampires liked to sleep during daytime.

"Long time no see," Cornelius said, expecting either a joyous or an enraged response.

There was a bang, one Cornelius knew all too well. He couldn't count all the times he had sat up in his coffin without removing the lid first.

"Cornelius! Where have you been? I haven't seen you in at least a decade!"

"I know," Cornelius responded, pouring a mug for Charlotte while holding the cell between his ear and his shoulder. Multitasking was not only for women. "But as much as I'd love to chat," he continued, "I sort of have an emergency here, and I need the number of the hypnotist you were seeing, hm, ten years ago."

"Oh, well, we don't make social calls often, do we?"

"No," Cornelius admitted, trying to ignore the guilt induced by the disappointment in the other vampire's voice. It had been a few decades since they had talked without shouting.

"I'll get it for you."

"That'd be great, thanks." Cornelius lingered a moment and then just jumped in it with both feet. "I know you think vampires aren't supposed to be very festive during human holidays, but if you want to, I'm having a Christmas dinner, and I'd love to have you here."

There was a long silence, and Cornelius' heart sank. "You don't have to come if you don't want to," he blurted. "It's just a silly human tradition."

"I'd love to," the vampire answered, sounding flustered and happy at once. "Is it okay if I bring my wife? She's sort of the hypnotist you need to talk to anyway."

When Cornelius hung up after explaining where he lived, he wore a silly grin on his face. "Everything will be alright," he said.

Charlotte, who had come into the kitchen looking for her coffee midways in Cornelius' heartfelt invitation, tilted her head at him. "Who was that?"

"That was Emanuel," Cornelius said. "He's coming over. I think you'll like him."

Syforbud er en dum juletradisjon

I anledning julefeiring skal huset være strøkent og pynta og egentlig alt for varmt. Pynta betyr blant annet ingen symaskin i stua. Fordi det ikke er plass til noe annet enn julepynt på bordet.

Stakkars Mau får ikke lov til å slaske seg over dukene heller - juleduker er spesielle, og de voksne damene i huset har bestemt at det ikke skal være kattehår på dem. (Jeg lar henne ligge på bordene når de har lagt seg. Det er så koselig når hun legger seg bak datamaskinen min og røyter rett inn i vifta.)

Jeg kan tenke meg til at de voksne (voksnere enn meg iallfall) trodde ingen symaskin ville bety ei nålefri julefeiring. Men der forregna de seg og glemte hva slags klær jeg syr. Fordi jeg hadde en anelse om at symaskinen måtte vekk, planla jeg å sy et syttenhundretalls ensemble for hånd i jula. Da jeg satte den vekk hadde jeg ikke brukt maskinen på ei uke.

Jeg så denne jakken fra Maggie's Costume Wardrobe, og ville gjerne ha noe lignende, bare med litt mindre rysjer.

Inni til venstre, utsida til høyre.

Dette skal bli rysjekanten nederst på skjørtet. Jeg begynte med den fordi jeg ikke liker å bli sittende uten handarbeid når jeg ikke er hjemme, og jeg hadde ikke lyst til å dra med meg et monsterstort, nålebefengt prosjekt på busstur. Sydde på stasjonen mens jeg venta på at butikkene skulle åpne, og så snakka jeg med en mann som skulle til Syden. Han lurte på hva jeg lagde, men jeg tror ikke han ble klokere av at jeg forklarte det.

Jeg sydde skjørtet basert på denne tutorialen, men det har jeg ikke bilder av. (Ikke at det er så spennende.)

Mau hjalp meg med å klippe ut mønsterdelene til jakken.

Jakke med interlining.

Resultatet av en dags arbeid med jakken. Ermene ble foret dagen etter. Jeg ble nødt til å ta opp litt av ryggsømmen igjen fordi det danna seg en bulk nederst.

Nok et bilde av stingene. Beklager, det har blitt en besettelse.

Denne gangen klipte jeg ut ermerysjene i original størrelse. De ble gedigne. Siden innsida kommer til å vises, lagde jeg linning i sort lin istedenfor den naturfarga lin/bomullsblandinga jeg brukte på resten.

Ermene, som ikke vises, men det er et bilde litt lenger ned, er satt inn historisk korrekt - som forklart her. (Jeg elsker denne kostymebloggen.)

For å ha en kontrast og en merkbar overgang fra selve jakken til hoftekappe (det heter det, for en gang kan jeg det norske uttrykket, jeg er litt stolt), lagde jeg egen piping (ingen anelse hva det heter på norsk).

Gjett hva som var dyrest på heile jakken. Joda, blondene.

Bruke tjue timer på å sy jakken? Ja. Bruke tjue sekunder på å dandere den pent for et bilde? Nei.

Mønsteret jeg har basert jakken på, Simplicity 3637, skal ikke fores, men jeg liker å gjøre det allikevel. Det blir pent, og jeg liker ikke rå kanter.

Holder på med siste bit på skjørtet. Skal bare sy på rysjene nede, og feste to par knytebånd på det, og så er jeg ferdig. Nesten iallfall. Trenger fremdeles en stomacher, men den har jeg ikke funnet ut av hvordan skal se ut enda.

Forresten, midt i all syinga og begynnende slitasjeskader på handledd, har det vært jul. Mau fikk et pent utvalg esker å velge mellom. Jeg på min side må finne ut hva i all verden jeg skal gjøre med en brødrister.

The Near Fatal Consequences of Cornelius Reading's Christmas Preparations: II

Next part out the 31st. Dec.

PART TWO

Charlotte stared blankly at the lights for a minute, trying to take everything in. She noticed this latest project was colour-coordinated. There were only reds, yellows and greens. That was something, at least. When they were about to paint his house, Cornelius had showed up with a dozen colours, suggesting rainbows because he'd seen one earlier that morning. Charlotte had shot down that idea, the neighbours would have made a riot, and soon she would have to do the same about this one.

"You know," Cornelius said, and Charlotte looked around for him, confused until she looked up. He was on the roof. Cornelius hated heights. His newest obsession had to be a strong one.

"I've never really celebrated Christmas properly before!" he said.

"Really?" asked Charlotte politely. Curiosity quenched her desire to tell Cornelius to yell a little bit louder, 'cause she didn't think old deaf Mrs Spitznogle five houses away couldn't hear him go on about his vampire unlife.

He scooted over to the edge of the roof, busy figuring out exactly which bulb on the long string of Christmas lights didn't work and cancelled out the rest of them.

"When I was young, or well, younger, I guess since I'll never get physically older, we didn't celebrate like this. When I became, you know, I thought it was unlike our kind to celebrate and ignored it, mostly. And then, from the nineteen twenties and onwards, I've happened to live in very artsy communities, struggling artists, that sort of thing - but even though all my friends claimed they hated their parents, they would still go home for Christmas and I didn't have anyone to celebrate with."

"And I guess your wives didn't approve of Christmas either?" Charlotte queried, already knowing the answer.

"No," Cornelius answered promptly. "They demanded expensive presents, though."

He finally unscrewed and replaced the broken light bulb, and the whole string lit. Charlotte noticed there were some huge, unlit lights around the house and wondered what they were for.

"I saw your snowman yesterday, and I just thought - wow, I've never really had the chance to decorate my house for Christmas."

Cornelius put the string in its right place, and got down from the roof, looking rather relieved to touch ground again.

"So," he continued, brushing snow off his pants, "I looked up some vids on YouTube, and they were really flashy, and then I found a few tutorials, and then I ordered some stuff from Ebay, and they had overnight delivery, and I just love the twenty-first century, it's amazing that you can just click and pay and then it shows up on your doorstep. You don't even have to talk to anyone."

Charlotte noticed he looked tired. "You've been at this all night, haven't you?"

"Yep," Cornelius stated proudly. "And this is going to be my first almost proper Christmas, and it's going to be so nice. I've already wrapped your present. It wasn't as easy as I thought. Mistoffeles tried to help and he shredded the paper twice."

At that Charlotte's resolve to tell him this was way over the top, melted away. The hell, she thought, let the neighbours think whatever they want to!

"What did you need help to?" she asked.

"There are only a few minor adjustments left," Cornelius said, and then turned to her with a serious look on his face. "You don't think it's too much, do you?"

Charlotte turned quickly away from him to hide her face and the shocked look she sported, pretending to scrutinize the decorations while scrambling for something to say. She didn't have the heart to tell the truth. It was just so Cornelius to ask about the obvious and expect an honest answer, and one that praised his hard work. He'd been at this for hours.

Charlotte had a theory that vampires who hibernated came out a little funny, and that it took a while for it to pass. Cornelius was normal most of the time, with the occasional crazy moment.

"It's very flashy," she started. And it can be seen from outer space, she continued to herself without plans to say that aloud. "It's not normal," she said frankly. "But it doesn't have to be. I think it's very you."

Cornelius tilted his head at the house, trying to figure out how the lights looked like him, but gave up.

Both vampires jumped at a loud cry of "HELLO!" behind them.

Mrs Spitznogle had ignored the advice from her doctor about staying indoors in bed while the ankle she had sprained two weeks ago healed, and instead headed off to the mall for some Christmas goodies. Helen Spitznogle had better things to do than listening to that young doctor man, he was nothing but a quack and she regretted not telling him so, but Cornelius Reading, that was something else, he was a nice young man, she liked him. He'd often drive her to the mall, but this time she'd had to go alone, otherwise he would have found out about his Christmas present.

Cornelius beamed at the sight of Mrs Spitznogle. "Hello!"

"IT LOOKS VERY NICE!" Mrs Spitznogle said, waving a shopping bag at them from the sidewalk.

"Oh thanks! I've been at it a couple hours!"

Charlotte found Mrs Spitznogle's volume too high even at this distance. Cornelius must have noticed too.

"You're shouting more than usual!" Cornelius bellowed at her. "Are you wearing your hearing aid?" he asked.

"YOUNG MAN, YOU NEED TO SPEAK UP, I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Mrs. Spitznogle answered. Cornelius sucked in breath and repeated his question even louder. This time Mrs. Spitznogle heard him. "OH, THOSE USELESS THINGS. I DON'T NEED THEM!" she yelled back.

"Oh," said Cornelius. "Well, I'll let you know when I'm finished with the house, and then you can come and see the big finish!"

Charlotte tried to shield her face so Mrs Spitznogle wouldn't recognise her. She was about to breathe out when the old woman cried out to her: "SO CHARLIE, ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS?"



"Of course I am!" Unlike Cornelius, Charlotte walked down to the old woman to carry on the conversation without shouting. While Mrs Spitznogle wouldn't tell her mom she had seen Charlotte at Cornelius' house, mostly because the two would never speak, the whole street would hear their conversation if they had to shout.

"HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOURSELF A BOYFRIEND NOW?" Mrs Spitznogle asked, casually trampling over what Charlotte considered private.

"Not yet, I don't really care about that kind of stuff."

"YOU'LL FIND YOURSELF A NICE LAD, OR GIRL, WE DON'T KNOW, THESE ARE NEW TIMES, YOU JUST WAIT AND SEE." Mrs Spitznogle adjusted her grip on the shopping bags. "I GOT TO GO NOW, I HAVE TO WRAP IN CORNELIUS' CHRISTMAS PRESENT."

The old lady actually lowered her voice. "I got him a nice-"

"No, no, don't say it!" Charlotte blurted, knowing not the slightest human whisper would escape vampire ears, not at this distance. "He's so curious about his presents, he's probably listening to what we're saying. Better keep it a secret."

"OH, MY KIDS WERE LIKE THAT ALL THE TIME, YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THEM," Mrs Spitznogle laughed. "YOU'LL FIND OUT LATER, YOU NOSY YOUNGSTER!" she bellowed at Cornelius, who was preoccupied searching through yet another box filled with assorted decorations from Ebay, actually too busy to even notice the conversation taking place on the sidewalk.

He looked up with a "Huh?", and when he didn't get an explanation, he went back to figuring out what colour the garlands around his door should be. Should he put up the green or red ones? At last he couldn't decide so he put both up.

After declining Charlotte's offer to carry the shopping bags to her house, Mrs Spitznogle waddled happily along, muttering about "young rascals".

Charlotte turned around to see Cornelius stringing up lights on his patio. Where the hell had he gotten all the lights from? The thought of Cornelius robbing some electrical store crossed Charlotte's mind. She thought against telling him about the absurd thought. Burglary was a hobby he would have picked up with ease. Best not to mention it, or she would be bailing him out of jail before the week was over.

Not that he would have to steal anything. Some of the funds he had placed money in during the late seventies had really paid off. Cornelius had taken an early (and secret, because it was über-nerdy back then) interest in computers. He spent most of his fortune on Ebay, and cat food.

Remembering what had woken her, Charlotte walked up to him.

"Why are you flashing the lights?"

"Oh, I'm trying to program it," Cornelius explained. "I want the flashes to synchronise with a song, I saw a video on the web and it looked really cool. Except I don't know how to do it and I didn't understand any of the manuals."

He opened yet another box and unpacked a reindeer from it. "Where should we put this?"

Charlotte looked around. "It'd look nice by the tree, don't you think?"

"Perfect. Do you want the honour?"

Cornelius handed her Rudolf and Charlotte put it in place. At a second glance, Cornelius' house and decorations didn't look half bad, she thought, and felt the fuzzy Christmassy feeling sneak up on her.

It wasn't easy to see Cornelius so psyched. Charlotte felt awful about it, but she would have to leave him all to himself during the holidays. Not that she had much of a choice. Her parents would certainly question it if she said she wanted to stay at a friend's place, and inviting that neighbour over was out of the question.

At least she would have the last years of pretending to be a human together with them. In a few years they would start to wonder why she didn't grow older, or change at all, and she would have to leave her old life and family behind, probably fake her death or something.

Charlotte cleared her throat and shoved thoughts of the future away. She'd have eternity to mull it over, no sense in starting now.

Cornelius carried a plastic Santa over to the garden gnome. "I'll have to fix the flash lights later," he said, thinking aloud. The Santa smiled despite his creepy companion, poor guy.

"Maybe you'll even bother to read the manuals?" Charlotte suggested.

"I did read them. I just didn't understand them," countered Cornelius. He walked over to her with a frown. "Now I think I have programmed it to flash every... fifth minute or so." He got a contemplative look on his face. "Speaking of which..."

He checked his phone and promptly turned around to ace the street, not the house. "I think it's roughly about five minutes since the last flash, maybe you should-"

There was a blinding flash and this time Charlotte cried out, staggering back in pain and sinking to her knees, both hands in front of her eyes. It had just been light, but the pain was like her face had been bashed in.

"... turn around," Cornelius finished meekly. "Five minutes till the next one!"

"Good, I might have regained my sight in five minutes," Charlotte muttered darkly, slowly scrambling up from the snow and waiting for her eyes to adjust. On top of the stabbing in her eye sockets, she felt a major headache forming in the back of her skull.

Cornelius helpfully dusted the snow off her legs. "You alright?"

"I'll be fine," Charlotte muttered from behind her hands. She had to keep her eyes closed. It still hurt.

"Let me see."

Cornelius was barely allowed to pry her hands away from her face and have a quick look. He frowned, with reason. Charlotte noted with worry that his face was a little fuzzy.

"The lights are unusually strong," he admitted. "They're meant to light industrial sites, maybe you need a dark room. Come on, we'll finish up things later out here."

Charlotte stumbled towards the house with Cornelius as a guide, instructed to keep her eyes shielded and everything would be fine.

When he suggested he could carry her up the stairs to the patio she outright refused on part of her already wounded pride.

"I might be blinded but I still have legs. Just look, they're there." Charlotte's face burned bright red underneath her palms, but hopefully Cornelius was looking at her feet.

"Under the snow, perhaps," Cornelius sighed, as she had just managed to slip from his grasp into a conveniently placed pile of snow. He was impossible at this, really.

"I'll be fine, thanks. Let's just get inside before anyone sees us and calls the cops or whatever."

Cornelius looked at her. She wasn't annoyed at him, just embarrassed, even though this was his entire mistake. He appreciated that about her. He was aware he had a few eccentricities, but she didn't point them out to him that often. Charlotte was a good person. He respected her.

He even understood why she didn't want to be carried. She already felt vulnerable and it would be a bit awkward. Even though they were friends, there was always a respectful distance. His right hand was resting on her right shoulder. The other held her left hand. They didn't touch that often.

A vampire sire would understand more of a fledgling than Cornelius had let on to Charlotte. All that worry she hid behind the tough exterior had to be maddening.

But the five steps up to the patio, in addition to the mere metre to the front door seemed like a mile. For all her admirable qualities, Charlotte was never any good at being told what to do, even when she could see.

"Why aren't you silent? No, don't you dare!"

"I'm abducting you again," Cornelius simply said and hoisted her over his shoulder, actually just like that time. Except that Charlotte had been out cold then, and unable to shout at him and protest and tell him to "PUT ME DOWN!"

"In just a moment," Cornelius grumbled, stepping over a few boxes in their path. "I think you've put on some weight," he commented, getting a playful but somewhat irritated smack on his back in response.

The moment Charlotte was sat down in a chair, Mistoffeles spotted an opportunity for pettings and sped across the room, navigating around wires and bulbs and glittering garlands before ending up on her lap where he curled up in a ball.

Meanwhile Cornelius had flicked off every light downstairs and drawn the blinds. The last light out, he waited just a moment for his eyes to adjust and then he was able to take on the obstacle course that was his living room. It was a bit messy, he had to admit. He'd have to clean up and remember to decorate before he invited Mrs Spitznogle over for dinner. He still had a few small things left to consider, like food and preparation. He was fairly sure he would make a good chef. He just needed to read up on all these strange human traditions. How did they keep track of them? And how did they manage without night vision?

Cornelius walked casually through the mess. "You can open your eyes by the way," he said.

"It doesn't hurt any longer," Charlotte said, sounding somewhat relieved.

"Good," Cornelius said. "I might have something that'll help. Just wait a minute."

He slipped out to the kitchen and got out the blood he kept refrigerated, hid amongst human food. He found he quite liked buying human food. It was fun to bring home the strangest fruits he could find.

Charlotte stared at him when he returned with a glass of blood. "Will that help?"

"I'm not sure. It helps with some injuries."

"You're fussing, I'll be fine."

"We are nocturnal. Light can be bad for us."

"Alright then," Charlotte sighed. "Gimme."

Cornelius didn't hand the glass over. "It would be best if you applied it directly to your eyes."

There was a beat in which the Magical Mister Mistoffeles' purring was the only sound that could be heard.

"I'll have to put blood in my eyes?"

"It sounds really weird when you say it like that," Cornelius sighed.

"It's so glamorous to be a vampire."

"I know," Cornelius said, dipping a spoon in the glass. He hadn't found anything else to use. It would have to suffice.

Charlotte grimaced in disgust but sank back in the seat. "Just get it over with."

"You know," Cornelius said, dripping blood into Charlotte's left eye, "Mrs Spitznogle usually spends Christmas with her daughter's family."

"They come over every year."

Charlotte blinked as the red liquid hit her eyes, and it ran down her cheeks. It looked like blood tears, Cornelius thought, the metaphor bringing back the horrid poetry he had written during the nineties.

"But this year," Cornelius continued, "they're going to visit their kids instead."

"So they're leaving her alone?"

"In a manner, I guess. But haven't you complained about how horrible it's to celebrate with a bunch of relatives you have to pretend you like?"

"Only a little."

Cornelius decided he and Charlotte had very different definitions of the phrase a little. "Anyway I asked her if she wanted to come over and celebrate with me."

"You're probably the nicest vampire ever."

Cornelius wasn't sure about that. He stared at Charlotte's body absorbed the blood on her skin. Really a fascination, if somewhat morbid, sight. "How does it feel now?"

"Better." Charlotte snorted and gave a short nervous laugh that startled Mistoffeles and made him leap off her lap. "Oh, that's a horrible thing, you just poured human blood all over my face and now I feel better."

Cornelius shrugged, "There are those who do worse," and walked into the kitchen again to wash the glass. It was best to dispose of all blood evidence at once, just in case.

Charlotte followed. "We're not that bad. But we're not normal either."

Seeing the giant turkey occupying a whole counter, she forgot about the philosophical struggle of being a nice vampire.

"You completely ignored Halloween," Charlotte grumbled, still remembering how she had, for once, been the cheerful moron who tackled a project with glee. But when she showed up in a witch costume complete with a green, hooked nose, bushy wig and long, large claws she had painstakingly glued to her fingernails, Cornelius had stared at her like... like she had a green, hooked nose, bushy hair and long, large claws.

Then he had explained that most Dark & Evil Creatures of the Night take the day off to avoid being mistaking for being in costume.

"You should have seen the look on Lord Nightstalker's face in 1986, when we forgot which day it was. He was hugged by a three year old girl in a sparkling pink tutu because she thought he was Count von Count - you know, the one vampire off Sesame Street!" Cornelius had paused to chuckle. "Then her mother made him pose for a photo with the kid. He complained about pink glitter on his cloak until January."

"Well," Cornelius said, rinsing bleach off the spoon, "you don't get presents at Halloween, do you?"

"I see the consumerism of the twenty-first century has gotten to you."

A merry ding-dong from the front door interrupted them.

Charlotte tensed up at once. This had to be a very bad thing. Cornelius never had visitors. Not many of his few friends would ever willingly visit a mundane neighbourhood, and worse, even fewer of them wouldn't stick out like sore thumbs. There was no saying what would happen if one of the neighbours saw them.

Cornelius looked like he had similar fears. "I guess I'll have to answer that."

"I have your back," Charlotte said. The visitor could be unriendly. Lord Nightstalker had been one of Cornelius' friends, but that didn't stop him from trying to murder Charlotte.

She was completely calm, ready for anything when Cornelius opened the door. Except there was no way she was prepared at all.

Charlotte's insides froze as she heard her mom say: "Oh hello, Mr Reading! Merry Christmas!"

Next part this way.

Hvis noen skulle trenge ei unnskyldning for å gå i viktorianske klær

En gotisk blogger har kommet opp med ideen om å kle seg i viktorianske klær et heilt år. Ikke overraskende er det andre som har hengt seg på. 2012 blir The Year of Filthy Victorians.

Source.

Med alt for få unnskyldninger til å kle seg ut er det fristende. Og siden dronning Victoria levde så lenge, spenner viktoriatida seg over mange forskjellige stiler man kan velge mellom. (Krinoline hver dag er kanskje ikke så moro. Kvinner i krinoline fikk ikke lov til å komme på trikken fordi de tok for mye plass...)

Retningslinjene for The Year of Filthy Victorians åpner opp for tidsreise (bare hold englene unna meg) og dager man kun er inspirert av viktoriansk mote, som for eksempel damppønk eller lolita, i tilfelle man blir lei kø og korsett og bare må vise anklene.

Selv tror jeg at jeg ville valgt en litt kortere periode - to måneder kanskje, om høsten sånn at det ikke blir for kaldt eller varmt, og dessuten ville det gitt meg tid til å sy litt, så langt har jeg bare underkjole, korsett, noen gedigne mamelukker jeg ikke kommer til å bruke, og et krinolineskjørt som kun passer til ballkjole.


God jul.

The Near Fatal Consequences of Cornelius Reading's Christmas Preparations: I

Short story in three parts, detailing a vampire's Christmas preparation. Next instalment will be out 25th. Dec.

Part I


As this story started, Charlotte Walsh was fast asleep. It was Saturday, and ever since she became a bloodthirsty (well, not that bloodthirsty) creature of the night, she had seized every opportunity to sleep in. Vampires are nocturnal by nature, but everything in Charlotte's busy schedule happened at daytime. Sadly, schools only provide special treatment for sanguine students in Japanese animation and poorly written wannabe gothic novels.

Her dream was a strange one. She was flying in the garden, floating around the oak tree. She landed on a thick, bare branch, heard it creak under her weight and then took off again. Flying was fun. It felt so natural.

t was snowing, but it wasn't cold. Even in her dream she could remember the day before, the first snow day. She had been on her way home from school when the first snowflakes fell. Her sister had caught up with her instead of hanging out with her much cooler friends, and in their glee they had ended up building a mini snowman in the garden. It was the most fun the siblings had had together in a long time.

As Charlotte soared, there was a flash of light from somewhere. Before her dream ego could process it, the dream was gone and Charlotte was in her bed, awake and somewhat confused.

She blinked as another flash penetrated the closed blinds and reached her eyes. She cursed, muttering darkly about the crazy DIY-guy next door, and shielded her eyes, reaching underneath her pillow to find her phone. The time read 12:46. She groaned and fell back underneath the covers for just another minute.

She was dangerously close to falling asleep again when there was yet another flash. This time it was accompanied with a loud bang. Charlotte immediately sat up, and tried to peek out the window to see what was happening. She saw nothing extraordinarily next door, and the rest of the street looked exceptionally like it normally did, except that Mr and Mrs Swansong were out for a walk, and today they weren't quarrelling.

The Walsh family lived surrounded by crazy people. The neighbourhood was already exciting before Cornelius Reading moved into the third house down across the road. Charlotte didn't mind the weirdoes, as her mom called them. Her own family was far from normal, and Charlotte herself was not one to speak of normality. They fit in.

As for the commotion, maybe someone was remodelling. Like most suburbanites they always seemed to be in need of the newest bathroom or kitchen, preferably both if they could afford to get another mortgage on their house.

Just before she drew back from the window, Charlotte noticed that the kids across the street had made a snow man of their own. It was bigger than that of her and her sister's. Charlotte felt the animalistic beast that resided in every vampire, guiding their bloodlust and ferocity, rise at the sight. Instinct told her to maim and hurt and kill. However she decided she would coax her sister into helping her make one that was even bigger. While she didn't have the conscience to have an accident arranged for the kids across the street, there was no way she and her sister were going to be outdone by two seven-year-olds.

Dragging herself out of bed was better than her mom getting her sister to do it. Like every little sister should be, Victoria was the embodiment of annoying, doubly so when Charlotte was trying to sleep.

When Charlotte staggered into the kitchen, she felt a tad bit more like a zombie than a vampire. She yawned as she opened the cupboard to hunt for something she could pretend to eat. It took her a moment to realise the cupboard was filled with glasses. Charlotte's mouldy brain took a moment to realise glass wasn't edible, and she continued her search. Her mom would rearrange the kitchen with random intervals, leaving the rest of the family confused for a week.

At last our heroine sat down with a bowl of Choculas - she remembered her sister insisting they should buy the cereal last Halloween, so it was probably bad by now and she wouldn't have to feel guilty about wasting perfectly edible food when people was dying of hunger all around the world. Really, being forced to live off human blood was bad enough, she didn't need more guilt.

Charlotte dipped her spoon in the milk, and slowly realised there was no one around to watch her pretend to eat.

There were voices coming from the living room. Charlotte's mom sounded upset, so her daughter got up and went to see what the fuss about. She made sure to bring her cereal with her so her mom would see her with food and probably assume her eldest daughter wasn't about to succumb to anorexia anytime soon.

"Morning, mom," Charlotte said, automatically prepped for her mom's usual comments about late sleepers and how she should be in bed earlier.

They didn't come. Neither her mom nor sister noticed Charlotte. They were plastered to the front window, looking at something outside.

Charlotte had a bad feeling about this, and dreaded to ask. She made her voice neutral and asked anyway. "What's happening?"

Her mother huffed. "It's that neighbour again."

And so, Charlotte's plans for a calm day were killed on the spot. The Walsh family had plenty of strange neighbours that her mother enjoyed complaining about, especially old Mrs Spitznogle, who liked to sunbathe topless on her front porch, but there was only one that neighbour.

Oh dear, Charlotte thought the moment she looked out and saw what the fuss was about. Cornelius had really outdone himself. She absent-mindedly shoved a spoonful of cereal into her mouth while taking in the spectacle, and chewed for a while. Then, as the awful taste registered, she immediately spat it out back in the bowl, much to her sister's disgust. The cereal was alright, but any kind of food except meat would turn a vampire's stomach.

"You're disgusting," Victoria complained, in that whiny voice only a fourteen year old can produce. In response Charlotte only stuck her tongue out at her, making sure her sis got a proper view of every tiny icky crumble left on her tongue. The tween mumbled eww and disappeared from the room, slightly green. Even though Charlotte was the older one, she was still the more childish sister. She also liked to think she was the smarter one.

There was another flash. Charlotte cursed and covered her sensitive eyes, and her mother gasped - but not at her daughter's language. Charlotte had to see what was going on and looked outside again, afraid she would see Cornelius in mortal danger. There was the sound of car brakes skidding on ice-covered asphalt.

Their neighbour next door, the DIY-guy, had been driving home when the flash blinded him. Charlotte and her mom stared, wide-eyed, as his car swerved to the side of the road and hit one of Cornelius' garbage bins, spilling the contents over his snow-covered lawn.

Cornelius popped his head out of his kitchen window to see what the ruckus was about. Even at this distance, Charlotte could see he wasn't pleased about the mess. Worse, Mr Porter in the car looked just as angry.

Charlotte ran upstairs in the blink of a mortal eye, leaving the cereal bowl in her dresser as she was in a hurry, changed clothes in less than a minute and was downstairs again. There were perks to being a vampire even though she would stay barely seventeen forever.

There were faint, angry voices coming from outside. She had to hurry. Charlotte was about to sneak out the kitchen door when her mom walked in.

"Where are you going?"

Charlotte blurted the first thing she could think of and ran for it. "Oh gosh I'm late for choir practice! Love-you-gotta-go!"

"That's not today, honey! Honey!"

Her mom got the slam of the door in reply. Oh well, she thought, the girl would find out.

Charlotte's mother felt at ease as she made herself another cup of tea. It was nice to see her oldest daughter start to take interest in something else than brutal fighting and martial arts. Her mom had worried. The teen barely ate anything.

When her tea was brewed, the mom returned to the living room to catch the latest instalment of what that neighbour was up to.


Meanwhile, Charlotte tore through their neighbours' back yards, aiming to keep her parents from knowing where she really went. She ducked under a bush when she noticed movement behind one of the windows in the house which garden she was hiding in. In the process she got her hair caught in the branches, and had to tug it loose.

Her hair finally free, she happened to look back the way came and felt her heart sink. Her tracks were clearly visible in the snow, all the way back to her own house. Damn.

She grumbled silently, waiting for the person in the house to go away and do something worthwhile instead of gawking out of their windows. She glared at her own footprints and muttered under her breath. While she had speed and strength, she also had the grace of a drunken ninja. At least that was how Cornelius had put it. Stealth wasn't in her arsenal. Brash actions and fighting, on the other hand, flinging people across rooms - no problem, during her first five months as a vampire, she had discovered that she had a knack for violence.

In company with Cornelius she had happened to come by a wild array of strange people. Not all of them were friendly. Not two weeks after Charlotte was turned, they happened to come across a group of non-humans who were out to nom humans. Even as a four-hundred-and-something-young-lady-it's-rude-to-ask-a-gentleman's-age year old vampire, Cornelius wasn't sure of what the three men were. Nothing seemed wrong with them, except for the fact that they threatened to eat Charlotte till she flung one of the men over her shoulder, did very nasty hurtful things which are too graphic to be put down in writing to the second, and then simply scared the third off by hissing.

Oh, the adventures they would have. Oh, the shopping sprees Cornelius would force her to come along on. Oh, the weird people he would introduce her to. Oh, the amount of drunken ninja sneakiness Charlotte had to do to simply slip across the road to Cornelius' house. Oh, the horror movie marathons they would laugh their way through...

The coast was clear and Charlotte darted from her hiding spot, trying not to leave too many footprints in her wake.

When she was sure she couldn't be seen from her parents' house, she crossed the street, not even trying to avoid being seen (because now she pretended to be a normal person crossing the street), before disappearing into a back yard again.

Mr Porter and Cornelius were still at it when she entered Cornelius' garden, neither of them willing to give in to the other. But Mr Porter was on the brink of breakdown. Charlotte recognised it. The man was close to wavering, he just didn't know it yet. Cornelius had the ability to rant on, almost without taking breath, and that usually made other people back off.

"... and you could have crushed my garden gnome! It's an antique!" he finished the three-minute-long monologue, berating Mr Porter's driving skills and morals, and throwing in a sentence or two about his poor haircut.

At the mention of the garden gnome, Charlotte, hiding behind the corner of the house, resisted hissing at the unholy thing.

Cornelius had insisted on bringing one of them with him from his magnificent schloss, and sadly nothing Charlotte said - insisting they were dangerous for vampires, Lord Nightstalker himself had ended his sad excuse for a life on this very gnome! - had helped. She'd even rallied for the neighbouring kids to steal it, but they had delivered it back the next day, saying it was wrong to steal - newfound morals, as they never bothered to give back the candy they would snatch at the closest store while their ignorant mother's attention was engaged elsewhere.

It was just a temporary setback. Sooner or later the gnome would be history. At the present moment Charlotte was pleased to see it partially covered in snow.

Mr Porter blinked as Cornelius finished his rant. The sheer amount of words crammed into the speech had been staggering. He was still angry but he couldn't think of anything to say.

So he gave up. His car wasn't damaged, and Reading couldn't make him pick up the trash, so he just left with an exasperated sigh. First when he got home he stopped to consider something his neighbour had said, and went into his living room to ask his wife: "Is there anything wrong with my hair?"

Cornelius looked graver than usual as he watched Mr Porter get into the car and drive away. He had actually become angry, which didn't happen often, but the nerve of the man had really aggravated him.

He didn't understand it, really. The neighbours weren't friends, but he had spoken to Porter several times before and deemed the man a decent human. So what made the man think he could blame Cornelius for his bad driving? Cornelius hadn't been the one who lost control over his car and drove across a neighbour's front yard. No, Cornelius had been in the living room, trying to find the Magical Mister Mistoffeles, who had been missing since his morning meal, in other words doing nothing car-related.

The very ordinary-looking vampire sighed. Impossible humans.

He walked over to the garbage and picked up the empty blood-bags that had fallen out. Luckily Mr Porter had been too angry to notice what had spilled out of the garbage bin. Cornelius decided he'd have to disguise the empty bags, just in case Porter made a habit of spreading trash all over the lawn, or someone found reason to go through his garbage. It would end in disaster. Cornelius wouldn't be found out as a real vampire, only nutters believed in creatures of that kind, but the police would be interested in knowing what he did with all the blood. Best case scenario was that he was outed as a blood drinker and then he would have to move. Un-life wouldn't be much fun without Charlotte.

He couldn't wait for her to see the big surprise. He felt like a little kid again, or at least how he imagined small kids would feel if very excited about something. He couldn't really remember his own childhood, as it was very long ago, but he was assured it had been a good one. His parents had at least imprinted nice manners in him.

He started singing as he walked into the house, quickly forgetting about that obnoxious Mr Porter.

Charlotte had entered through the kitchen window and waited for him in his living room. As usual the room was bombarded with stuff for his latest project. Cornelius had a hard time sitting still and didn't cope well with boredom. Sadly, except for weekends, Charlotte was swamped with homework and studying. So he had taken up a dozen hobbies, or so, to keep occupied. Right now there were light bulbs and wires scattered everywhere.

She heard him come in, singing.

"Jingle bells, Batman smells... Robin tra-la-la..."

It was far from as bad as the first time she had heard him sing. One day he was bored, he had started taking voice lessons. Now he was one of the lead singers in the local but very well known church choir that actually mostly consisted of people who could sing. They had released a Christmas CD two weeks ago. Charlotte's mom had bought it, unaware that the silky deep voice she was in love with, belonged to that neighbour.

"Hi," Charlotte said.

"Good morning," replied Cornelius. "Sleep well?"

Charlotte frowned. "How do you know I just got up?"

"Your hair is trying to eat your head."

Putting a tentative hand on top of her head, Charlotte realised what she had forgotten while dressing. On the way over she had a nagging suspicion she had forgotten something. At least she hadn't forgotten to put on pants. That was a relief.

She forgot about her messy hair as there was a wailing meow from one of the boxes on the floor. When she lifted it, Magical Mister Mistoffeles came out. The small black cat gave another meow in thanks for freedom and ran from his prison.

"There you are, you little rascal," Cornelius cooed. "Only coming out now that Charlotte's here? I should feel insulted, but I'm not, you're so impossibly cute. Who's adorable? Yes, you are, you are."

Usually a sucker for Cornelius' verbal purple prose, Magical Mister Mistoffeles only looked around in a manner that said he clearly disagreed with the state of the living room. Charlotte decided to save him from the floor and sat him down on the couch armrest (as the rest of the sofa was occupied by stuff). When she started to scratch him behind his silky ears, he immediately started purring and licked her hand affectionately. The Magical Mister Mistoffeles wasn't that magical to be frank, but the vampires loved the small rescue. Cornelius had valiantly saved the starving cat off the streets, and spoiled it rotten. He was rewarded with a faithful companion who even snuck into his coffin at daytime to sleep on his legs. Cornelius had yet to figure out how the cat got in. Charlotte had suggested the cat might be a bit magical after all.

Cornelius grinned wide at both fledgling and cat. "I assume you came over to see the house?"

"Sort of," Charlotte mumbled, realising she was about to burst Cornelius' bubble of happiness. Again. It was never fun to convince him to be normal.

"Well then come on! I'll give you a tour!" He was already out of the door when Charlotte rose. "And," he called from outside, "maybe you could help me with the last thingies? They're a bit high up and I get dizzy."

On her way out she grabbed one of Cornelius' jackets, the one she usually borrowed when going out incognito, and pulled the hood up so her hair wouldn't show. Just in case her mom was still watching.

Up close, Charlotte couldn't find the words to describe the spectacle that met her eyes.

For starters, Cornelius' house looked pretty much like the other suburban homes lining the street. It was large, wooden, with two floors, three bedrooms and a basement for all the stuff you didn't need but still bought at the mall that was just a five minute drive away. They had painted the house a lovely dark blue just two weeks after Cornelius moved in, just because he had realised he was four-hundred-and-something-oh-gosh-I-really-am-old-aren't-I, and during that time, he had never done anything as mundane as painting a house.

Charlotte had helped, under cover of being paid to do it. But now their amateur, yet superb paintjob was hidden by what can best be described as a Las Vegas light show on speed. It would seem Cornelius had discovered the joy of decorating with Christmas lights.

"Oh dear," mumbled Charlotte.

Next part this way.

Pepperkaker og finske vampyrer

Årets pepperkakebaking ble unnagjort for et par dager siden. Jeg fikk hjelp av broren min, som egentlig var mer interessert i å spise deigen.

Legg merke til at dama har rokokkokjole på seg.

Jeg pynta de som hadde blitt litt vel godt stekt (nesten alle sammen). Konditorfarga fra butikken var bare umulig. De skulle bli røde, ikke rosa.

Mau ser ikke særlig imponert ut.

Pene, pene, pene teaterbilletter. Hyperventilere.

Det blir tur til Finland i februar, med to show av Vampyyrien Tanssi. (Har lært meg å stave det riktig!) Det finske ordforrådet mitt må utvides litt mer, men jeg har det viktigste inne: valkosipuli (hvitløk), veri (blod) og kaula (nakke). Jeg kan ikke tro hvor billige teaterbillettene er i Finland. Og de har med folk fra metallband. Glede seg nå.

Fisk og katter og viktorianske greier

Et av lyspunktene med å bo i et fiskevær er fersk fisk. Et av de første minnene mine er at det sto ei balje fisk ute i gangen - en av fiskene slo fremdeles med halen. Da jeg var lita syntes jeg at det var supermorsomt. Nå veit jeg at fisken ikke var i live men slo i dødskramper, så det er litt mindre sjarmerende. Men masse fisk betyr verdens beste fiskekaker.

Verdens heldigste katt satt like ved fisken som ble sløyd.

I anledning julebord fant jeg bruk for det viktorianske smykket fra i sommer. Brukte også capen, men det ble fort varmt med den. Tenker å prøve meg på en viktoriansk kjole med kø over nyåret, kanskje til Banzaicon i april, må bare finne riktig stoff først og bestemme meg for design. Og finne ut hvordan jeg skal få den slags type underskjørt ned i en bag. 

Leste dette, the Year of Filthy Victorians, hvor noen har ideen om å kle seg som en viktoriansk lady i et helt år. Det hadde vært noe, hadde det ikke? (Skjønt, jeg tror jeg ville valgt en måned isteden. Må uansett vente til jeg flytter en mer folksom plass. Her er ikke ideelt.)

Det stikker en labb og noen værhår frem.

Dette var ei eske med tilsendte julegaver. Nå er den kattehus. Mau liker esker og hun er vant til at vi synes hun er søt og åpner dem for henne, så hun ble sittende ved siden av denne til vi pakka ut og fant en annen plass å ha gavene. Bortskjemte kattekrek.

Desembernatt

En eller to lesere kan nok ha lagt merke til at jeg har en liten interesse for nerder veldig mye om tyskspråklige musikaler som svært få nesten ingen i Norge bryr seg om. Nærmere sagt en viss østerriksk vampyrmusikal ved navn Tanz der Vampire. (Som er veldig bra, kul musikk, flotte kostymer, halvnakne gotiske vampyrer, bla, bla...)

Sylvilel ringte i forrige uke og fortalte at det skulle være julekonsert i Sortland kirke. Ord kan ikke beskrive skepsisen jeg følte de få sekundene fra hun sa konsert til hun fortalte hvem som skulle synge. (Fra min erfaring betyr julekonsert emosjonelle julesanger, som oftest sunget av folk og kor som ikke kan synge, og kirkebenker som gir deg tresmak i ræva.)

Source.

Det Haldor Lægreid er mest kjent for i Norge, er at han sang for oss i Eurovision for ti år siden. Det jeg kjenner ham for, og jeg er desidert kulere (og mer innbilsk) enn resten av Norges befolkning, er at han er den eneste norske skuespilleren (jeg veit om) som har vært i Tanz der Vampire. Og ikke hvilken som helst ensemblerolle, og ikke hvilken som helst oppsetning. Han har vært Herbert von Krolock i Berlin.

Her i ferd med å bli godt kjent med vampyrjegerens assistent Alfred. Source. Og vanligvis er Herbert litt mer fabulous.

Med andre ord skal jeg på konserten! Selv om jeg er skeptisk til Lisa Stokke (ja, hun synger også) etter at hun gjorde dette med en av sangene som er med i Tanz der Vampire. Og selv om jeg innser at det er en julekonsert som ikke noe som helst å gjøre med Tanz. Og selv om - vel, nå kommer jeg ikke på fleire grunner. Det er også en tredje artist med, Lars Klevstrand, men han har ingen forbindelse med Tanz, så jeg veit ikke stort om ham, men han er sikkert kjempeflink til å synge.

To jenter kommer iallfall til å dukke opp i hoggtenner nei vel da, det er en julekonsert, og t-skjorter med Tanz-logo, og hvis de tør vil de stalke backstagedøra og si noe sånt som, "Hei, Haldor Lægreid, husker du den musikalen du var med i for sånn fire-fem år siden? Den liker vi!"

Jeg er ikke sikker på hvor normalt det er å komme opp til noen og snakke om noe de gjorde for fleire år siden, men det får gå som det går. I verste fall skremmer vi ham til permanent eksil i Tyskland... hvor han forhåpentligvis vil ta fleire roller i musikaler vi liker. Sylvilel truer med at hvis jeg blir fanjentete kommer hun til å late som om hun ikke kjenner meg. Dette kommer av at jeg kom til skade for et lite halvkvalt (rusk i halsen) hyl da nyheten sank inn. Tror ikke det er noen fare for slikt - jeg er ikke flink til å snakke med folk jeg ser opp til, og vil helst løpe fra dem. Stagedooring er en veldig masochistisk aktivitet.

Oppdatering: Gikk veldig bra. Fin konsert, flotte stemmer, krampe i hendene av å holde kamera og filme sånn at YouTube skal få et litt større utvalg av Lægreids stemme, nerde bittelitt, grue seg til å gå backstage - også gikk det så fint. "Så dere er tyske musikalfans?"

Nå kan fanjentepersonligheten min ta en lang juleferie til februar og Finland og den finske versjonen av Tanz.

Blånisser og unevnelige viktorianske greier

Bare sånn at du veit det, de ansatte på Husfliden vil se rart på deg hvis du kommer inn med planer om å lage ei blånisselue i voksenstørrelse.

Blikkene avtar ikke når du forklarer at det er til et kostyme du kanskje skal lage en gang, hvis du får tid, og hvis venninna di som vil være rødnisse også lager kostyme, og hvis vi finner et sted å ha dem på oss - det blir iallfall ikke på Desucon, med mindre vi planlegger selvmord og heteslag. Kanskje vi kommer oss til vintermarknaden på Røros en gang.

Mau glitrer ikke, hun har bare vanndråper i pelsen, hun hadde nettopp kommet seg i hus da hun måtte lukte på hatten.

En gang skal jeg cosplaye Skulduggery Pleasant, og nå har jeg kjøpt hatt. Mau syntes den var fin, til jeg tok fram kameraet. Jeg har også kjøpt nålestripa dress, men jeg hadde overså en liten viktig detalj i teksten på Ebay: nålestripene var dyprosa. Oops.

Mau er travel med juleforberedelser. Her hjelper hun til med å pakke inn julegaver - med å finne gaven inni posen siden hun ikke fikk lov til å komme opp på bordet og leke med teipen. 

Og så litt viktoriansk undertøy, underkjole fra dette mønsteret, fordi jeg ikke likte hvordan underkjolen fra Simplicity (mønsteret jeg lagde korsettet av) så ut. Superenkel å lage, sydd for hånd (ingenting å gjøre, fant ut at jeg kunne trekke ut arbeidstida litt).

Handsying med vanlige resultat.

Vanlig kattereaksjon når jeg legger arbeidet fra meg på golvet - fullt av nåler, både kjolen og golvet.

Sekstenhundretallsundertøyet mitt er rødt og hvitt, så attenhundretallsundertøyet skal være hvitt og blått. Bare fordi.

 

Så proper, og så henger det en ørepropp nedover skuldra. Hmf. (...og hva er det som får deg til å tro at jeg ikke liker å greie håret?)

Er ikke sikker på om den er heilt ferdig enda. Jeg kjøpte blonder nok til å gå rundt halslinninga også, men jeg synes at det blir for mye pynt, selv om det er tidsriktig med "trim what you can trim". På samme tid som jeg gjerne vil ha fleire blonder. Dette er det nærmeste jeg kommer eksistensiell krise. Noen tanker?