A Very Dark Gothic Tale of Vampiric Love: V

Charlotte opened her eyes, immediately realised doing so was a horrible mistake, and closed them. She groaned in pain and shifted. Her head was splitting open.

There was a shuffle nearby. Charlotte forced her eyes open again, and saw the youngest vampire hunter peering cheerfully down at her. At first she didn't remember anything, not even what had happened with Cornelius, and wondered what kind of crazy Steampunk costume her sister was stringing together for Halloween.

"You're awake!" Paul said. "You missed all the fun!"

Charlotte glanced out of the closest window. The sun had gone down not long ago. She grew awfully cold. She had missed it, and the vampire hunter called it fun.

She lunged off the couch she was sprawled on and tackled the young man with a predatory anger most unlike her. Paul was surprised to find himself pinned to a wall.

"What have you done to him?" she demanded.

"Gosh, you're strong for a girl," Paul commented.

Charlotte pulled him away from the wall and sent him crashing into the couch. It fell over as Paul hit it, and a part of her was terrified of what she just had done. She could have broken several of his bones, even killed him. But it didn't feel like this was her doing. She was merely a witness to her own actions. And he deserved it for the part he had in Cornelius' death.

Paul whimpered behind the couch. Charlotte walked over and kneeled down on one knee beside him, just in time for him to come to. Her headache had cleared.

"I'm not asking you again."

"We haven't done anything yet. We- we've been playing cards while we waited for the sun to go down. I won three times. It was..." He whimpered again, some part of him must have been injured, but Charlotte really didn't care, and he finished: "... fun."

Cornelius was alive. Charlotte sank down on both knees and didn't move for a short while. The vampire hunter stirred.

"Can I get up or are you going to throw me around some more?"

"Just stand up," Charlotte mumbled, and frowned as her conscience returned. "Are you alright?"

"I've had worse," Paul said. He straightened, cracked his back in a few places, and offered Charlotte a helping hand. She wasn't sure whether her feet would support her, so she took it.

"Where are the rest of the hunters?"

"They're down in the crypt," said Paul cheerily.

Charlotte tore down in the basement, furious for having let her guard down. While she had been close to crying just because Cornelius was alive, the hunters could have been staking him. Or cleaved his head from his shoulders. Or whatever horrible things steampunk vampire hunters did to vampires.

Down in the crypt the vampire hunters were already prying the heavy lid off Cornelius' coffin. Charlotte ran in just in time to see them heave it off, ready to kill the vampire inside, and opened her mouth to cry out for Cornelius to wake up.

Abe van Jaeger's shoulders sagged. "It's empty," he said. "How can it be empty?"

"Because I can't sleep when you come barging down the stairs like a herd of elephants," Cornelius complained, having appeared at Charlotte's side. He was wearing normal clothes, only looking a little tired. There was no trace of the bat pyjamas, but he hadn't had the time to comb his hair. It looked carelessly messy, a look that actually suited him.

She cleared her head and concentrated on the hunters, who spun around, ready to defend themselves against this unspeakable evil - only that the guy didn't look that evil to be frank. They looked a bit bewildered, until one of them produced a gold crucifix from one of his pockets. Cornelius hissed and retreated from the holy object. The vampire hunters lost their confusion. This was a vampire alright!

Charlotte stared at Cornelius, and couldn't help but ask. "Are you allergic to crosses? How does that work?"

"Oh." Cornelius straightened, still looking at the vampire hunter. "I thought he was going to throw that at me," he explained sheepishly. "Sorry," he said to the vampire hunter. "My bad!"

There was a beat, in which neither vampire, his pretend fiancé or the vampire hunters moved. Then the vampire hunters charged in unison at the tiny doorway Cornelius and Charlotte occupied. Charlotte fell into her fighting stance. Once again it was up to her to drag Cornelius' butt out of trouble.

But the vampire hunters didn't even reach the doorway. Charlotte registered something blur past her into the room, and then Cornelius wasn't standing beside her any longer. She stared in awe as he roundhoused van Jaeger, sent another hunter flying with a strong uppercut to the jaw and then simply tripped another right into the open coffin. The fight was over in less than a minute.

"Wow," said Charlotte.

"Ow," said the vampire hunters.

Cornelius sauntered over to Charlotte. "That was easy," he said, stepping nonchalantly over one of the fallen hunters. "It was almost too easy," he added.

As in response there was an awful war cry behind them. Vampire and teenager looked behind them to see Paul come charging down the stone steps with a ridiculously large knife in hand. When he reached the very last step, he stumbled and fell forwards. Charlotte realised, too late, that the knife was headed in her direction.

Cornelius snatched her out of the way just in time, and the large blade passed mere inches away from her.

Paul met the stone floor with an ouch-sounding smack. Cornelius reached down and lifted him up by the collar of his steamy tea-coloured shirt. "Young man, what were you thinking? Your mother might not have told you never to run with knives, but I am sure she told you never to run with scissors, and I assure you, that rule extends to anything with a sharp blade. You almost cut poor Charlotte in two, and I appreciate not having her in a two piece set. Put that away immediately."

Paul was still dazed, but managed to comply.

Charlotte exhaled, a little shaken, and stepped further into the room, not paying attention to the rest of the vampire hunters who were on the floor, still in pain. Cornelius continued to rant at poor Paul, who nodded in fearful agreement to everything he said.

Until then, Charlotte had thought herself relatively safe from the hunting party. Thusly, the lead vampire hunter's sudden attack caught her off guard.

Cornelius paused midway in his rant when Charlotte whimpered most cowardly, and turned to see Abe van Jaeger hold a blade against his would-have-been-bride's throat. The sight was most unwelcome.

"Let my comrade go," van Jaeger ordered.

Paul immediately scooted away when Cornelius obeyed.

"Of course you would protect her, I've figured it out now" van Jaeger said, obviously feeling a lot more at ease now that he had the upper hand. By now Charlotte could recognise the start of a monologue and would have rolled her eyes if she hadn't been in mortal danger yet again.

Van Jaeger continued: "She's loyal to you despite not being a bloodsucking fiend of the night, she protects you, she's obviously in love with you - no normal woman would do that! Of course she's a reincarnated former wife of you! Just like in that movie!"

All of the vampire hunters, except Paul who still hurt after being introduced to the floor, said "Oh," and nodded as if van Jaeger's theory was logical.

"Former wife?" Cornelius repeated, with distaste, for the first time looking at Charlotte with suspicion. "I would hope not."

Charlotte was thrown aside as Van Jaeger pulled out a mean-looking gun. "Lord Nightstalker!" he proclaimed with the greatest drama he could muster. "Prepare to meet your doom!"

"I'm not Lord Nightstalker," Cornelius protested.

"I think he's right," one of the hunters interjected. "Sure doesn't look like him!"

Abe van Jaeger rummaged through some of his pockets until he found a tattered picture. He held it up to compare it with Cornelius. He looked from the photo to Cornelius and back again. Then he clenched his eyes almost shut and compared it again.

"Well, this is awkward," he said at last. "We were paid to find Lord Nightstalker and rescue Jane Smith, one of his latest abductees." He found yet another photo and showed it to his recent enemies. "I don't suppose you've seen this girl?"

Charlotte craned her neck to see, and grinned wide. Shadow's real name was Jane Smith.

She got up and dusted off herself. "We've seen her. And if you hadn't charged at poor, innocent Cornelius here, then maybe he would have told you that the awful Lord Nightstalker is dead.

"You killed him?" asked Van Jaeger, trying to pierce Cornelius with his gaze. It didn't work.

Charlotte was about to open her mouth, but thought otherwise and let Cornelius answer.

"Yes," Cornelius said. "Because he was a horrible man, and I couldn't possibly stand for his misdeeds. He made my kind look bad."

"Hear, hear!" van Jaeger exclaimed, turning to the rest of the hunters and praising the noble vampire in front of them. Cornelius just looked embarrassed.

Charlotte let Van Jaeger go on for a few minutes till she decided he had talked enough, and cut in: "We even know where Jane Smith is. And you can even take her with you right now."

It was very easy to convince Shadow to go with the vampire hunters.

Charlotte went looking for her, and found her, violently going through the black gothic wardrobe in the bedroom Charlotte now considered as her own. Charlotte didn't mind the clothes, they weren't hers, but she frowned at the mess since she would have to clean it up later.

"Hey, Shadow," she said, leaning on the door frame, "there are some people here to save you from Nightstalker's black claws!"

"But I don't wanna be saved!" whined Shadow.

"The lead vampire hunter is really hot!" Charlotte simply retorted.

"See? Problem all solved," Charlotte sighed as she and Cornelius closed the giant brown doors of the black gothic castle on the vampire hunters and a very happy Shadow, who indeed thought the lead vampire hunter was hot, judging by her squeals when seeing him.

"Sure they can't come in again?" she asked, checking the locks in case the hunters would try to return Shadow when they found her to be a pest.

"I don't think so," Cornelius said. "These doors have withstood entire armies, or so the saleswoman told me."

Charlotte gave a relieved phew and unrolled the bandages on her arm. "Hey, how come you couldn't have helped me defeat Nightstalker? Those were some pretty awesome moves in the crypt."

"I had three hundred and seventy-nine seeds to count, and I got out of it twice. And it wasn't like you couldn't handle him yourself."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Charlotte grinned.

She rolled off the last bandage and checked the bite-wound. It ached, and when she uncovered the skin, it looked like it was infected.

"This can't be good," she muttered, prodding it carefully. The moment she got home, she'd have to have someone have a look. Wonder what a doctor would make of a vampire bite?

"Oh dear," Cornelius said, looking down at the infected wound.

An explanation later, Charlotte could do nothing but stare at him.

"So I'm turning into a vampire?" she blurted. "Just because you bit me?"

"I bit you? I bit you?!" Cornelius sputtered, and took the time to remind her, in detail, exactly what had taken place when Charlotte had forced her arm into his mouth, and how he had projectile vomited in allergic response to her blood.

"I know, I know!" Charlotte stopped him, not wanting to relive the vomiting.

They sat in silence a while. Cornelius had never sired anyone and didn't know what to say to a freshly turned member of the un-dead. There were pamphlets and conventions for those who thought about turning a loved one, but he had never really bothered with them, because before Charlotte, he had never considered embracing anyone. And he had assumed that she would accept it outright, like in the stories. By now he was cursing the stories and planning on deleting his account on ff.net.

He patted her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Everything is going to be fine."

Charlotte spoke up at last: "You know, this explains why I've had a craving for raw steak."

Cornelius stared. "You sure don't mope around."

"Why should I? Aren't there enough emo vampires around already?"

"Hmm," Cornelius said, thinking of the vampires he knew. "You have a point."

"But I don't want to kill people," Charlotte said.

"You won't have to. We live in civilised times - I buy donor bags, mostly. And animal blood can suffice if you're in a pinch."

"So I don't have to be a cannibal?

"On occasion, but you'll get used to it."

Charlotte grumbled. But drinking out of a plastic bag was more inviting than ripping out people's throats in dark alleys. Maybe eternity wasn't going to be so bad.

Cornelius looked at the giant clock in the hall. "I think it's time we got you home."

Charlotte's hopes fell, shot down by a large calibre gun. She stared at Cornelius in horror. "Are you serious?" she asked, in a tiny voice she hated. "Now that I'm dead, you're dumping me off at my parents', expecting me to figure out everything on my own?"

Panic crept forth in Cornelius as he saw tears do the same in Charlotte's eyes. She hated the warm liquid springing forth, but couldn't help it.

"Of course not!" he protested sincerely. "What kind of heartless creature do you think I am?"

Charlotte mumbled something about being a vampire.

"I'm not leaving you."

"What are you calling this then?"

Cornelius gestured at the clock. "Your parents are bound to be worried if you don't come home this afternoon. And I'll pop by from time to time. I'll even give you my cell phone number, when I get one, so you can contact me whenever you want to."

There weren't words for the relief Charlotte felt. It was silly to think Cornelius would leave her like that, but he was very erratic.

"Thank you."

"I have some clothes you can borrow. I don't think your parents should see you in that, or any of the clothes I bought for you."

Charlotte still wore the Victorian nightgown she had on when letting the vampire hunters in. And while the second bustle dress she had was very nice and well tailored, and the corset didn't pinch her any longer, she didn't want to explain where she had gotten it.

Despite fearing for Cornelius presenting her with a Victorian suit with a matching cloak, she still followed him. The result of him searching his wardrobes surprised her. She chose a brightly coloured T-shirt Cornelius said he had bought in the eighties, thereby the eye-scorching colour, and some jeans. They hang loose on her frame, but she didn't think her mom would look closely at her when she barged in the door and ran upstairs to change.

They borrowed Lord Nightstalker's black, gothic car and tore down the mountain roads. Charlotte would have been utterly terrified to sit in the same car as Cornelius drove when she first got to know him, but he was a natural. It had to be some vampire-stuff involved, sharper senses or reaction. Charlotte was excited to notice the changes in her system. Her sight was better than before and she imagined her ears to be sharper too.

But when they finally reached her town her cheery behaviour died. She looked at people, humans going on about their daily business as they drove through the main street, and sighed.

"I won't harm anyone, will I?" she asked.

Cornelius turned a corner with ease. "Not as long as you feed regularly. And even if you get hungry, you probably won't kill anyone. But you should be careful. Once, I suddenly realised I had pounced upon a random stranger, ready to tear her jugular out, and she was upset about it, but I said I stumbled and she believed me."

Charlotte told herself she could come up with better excused and decided to brush off the problem.

They pulled up a few houses away from Charlotte's house, as her mom was home, and Charlotte got out. As she did, Cornelius stopped her and reached into the back seat.

"You should have this," he said, handing her a black bag she had noticed him bringing along. When she looked quizzically at it, he explained. "It's food. Or what food is for you now. I recommend you don't eat anything - it'll mess you up. But you can drink stuff - just stay clear of alcohol."

"Is it dangerous?"

"No, but you might end up doing embarrassing things."

"I'll remember that," Charlotte said. "And thanks."

"It's the least I could do."

Charlotte didn't know what to say and started walking away. It felt horrible to say goodbye to Cornelius, even for a short time, so she didn't. She had expected to hear the car roar to life behind her, but instead there was the sound of the car door slamming shut. Cornelius came up beside her, hands in his pockets.

"I suppose I could follow you."

"You should," Charlotte said. "These streets are incredibly dangerous, especially for a vampire that trains karate two times a week."

"You better take it easy when you spar," Cornelius warned. "Or they won't know what hit them."

"I hadn't thought of that," Charlotte admitted, and looked up at Cornelius - to see he wasn't even paying attention to her. She followed his line of sight and saw him gaze at a house across the street, a few houses down the road. His eyes were fixed on the sign on the lawn, that said 'for sale'. Charlotte smiled, knowing things would work out.

They stopped outside her house.

"Are you sure you don't wanna come in?" Charlotte offered.

"No thanks," Cornelius blurted. "I'm - it... you see, um -"

"You don't want to meet my parents."

"Yeah, that's it," he admitted.

"That's okay. You will tell me if you buy that house, right?"

"I will."

Fearing her mother was watching them, Charlotte still risked a fast hug. "You know, you're not that bad," she said.

Cornelius hugged back in surprise and didn't know what to say. He started walking back to the car already as Charlotte tore up the drive-way to her house, having the distinct feeling that he had gained something - something quite different than what he had hoped to gain, but something better. A fledgling - he was a mentor. He had responsibility. It felt good.

A week later, he had sold his castle to some newbie vampire who wanted to move in with his blood slave harem. He liked the new house better. It was quiet, but not too quiet. And his internet connection was a million times faster.

Charlotte popped by whenever she had the chance and her parents didn't notice where she went. The first thing she did in the new house was tackle Cornelius to the ground in order to rip the comic book he was reading, away from him. No way was he going to be influenced by the bloodsuckers from 30 Days of Night.

Other than such incidents, life went on. They certainly didn't live perfectly happy ever after, but they got along just fine, thank you very much.

FIN.

The adventure continues in 

The Near Fatal Consequences of Cornelius Reading's Christmas Preparations

Blod & Gørr

... 'tis the season to be morbid.



A Very Dark Gothic Tale of Vampiric Love: IV

Fearless Vampire Killers.

The following night both Charlotte and Cornelius sat on a bench in the gnome-ridden garden. To anyone passing by, had there been anyone, the scene could have been that of two close friends talking, a romantic relation even. In reality they were both hiding from Shadow, whom they were stuck with now that Lord Nightstalker was no longer among the almost-living.

It turned out Charlotte's workaholic parents had thought she spent the previous night at a friend's house. She didn't feel the need to correct them and asked to stay another night. Convincing them to let her stay was no feat. Being a nice teenager finally paid off.

With Lord Nightstalker's death fresh in memory, Charlotte was still shaken. She felt much better after a bath, but dealing with Shadow had been a nightmare.

Suffice to say the odd couple didn't hide in the gardens without reason.

"It's really nice here," Charlotte commented, looking around. "Except for the gnomes, I mean," she added as an afterthought and pulled the red shawl Cornelius had found somewhere in his fortress and gifted to her, tighter around herself in protection against the bitter night cold.

"I guess," Cornelius said, glancing up at his magnificent estate. "It's... just like what a vampire's home should look like, don't you think?"

Picking up his less than enthusiastic vibe, Charlotte frowned. "What's wrong?"

"My wives made me get this place," he confessed. "Before that I was quite content with my flat. I travelled a lot too. When I came here, I was so bored I fell asleep for nine years."

"You could have said you didn't want a castle, couldn't you?"

"Hah!" Cornelius let out a short bark of laughter. "I did. You try to quarrel with three women."

Charlotte had to admit he had a point. "I didn't know you were allowed to take several wives."

"You're not exactly allowed to go around feeding on the lifeblood of others either," Cornelius mused. "Now, I'm not a bigamist, really. I only had three of them because it was in mode at the time. Every vampire in the movies at the time had three wives. Luckily it was a fad. Bigamous relationships bring loads of trouble."

"Trouble?"

The vampire swallowed uncomfortably before answering. "Among other things, three wives mean three mother-in-laws."

"I presume that's bad?" Charlotte said.

"It also means thrice the banter," Cornelius started, getting to his feet. Revisiting the memories did him no good. It'd take years of therapy to get over them. He chuckled nervously. "Holy garden gnome, how they would bicker! All day! All night! Non-stop!"

"Are you okay?" Charlotte inquired softly. Seeing Cornelius in distress was strangely upsetting.

He ran a hand through his hair. "No wonder why so many male vampires willingly ended themselves during that fad... I mean, what were we thinking?" He shuddered, calmer now and sat down. "Never again!"

"No offense," Charlotte started, "but how come you had three wives when you're so clueless at dating?"

Whatever Cornelius was about to say disappeared from his mind when a complaining female voice cut through the darkness: "Guys? Where are you?"

Both vampire and human ducked beneath the bench they had been sitting at. In lack of a better hiding place it had to suffice. Only it didn't. When Shadow walked into view, her face obscured by the veil she insisted on wearing after waking to find her beautiful face bruised from Nightstalker's rough silencing methods, she noticed them at once.

"What are you doing under there?"

Charlotte and Cornelius shot each other panicked looks, and the vampire scrambled for words. "We... I mean... I just thrive in the darkness. I like the dark. It's dark under here. Definitely."

Shadow sighed. "You're so emo it's not even hot."

"Alright, I admit it, I lost a contact lens," Cornelius said.

"You use contacts? What kind of vampire are you?" Shadow scoffed. She was already shaking with cold, and turned nonchalantly to walk back into the magnificent castle. "I can't believe I am stuck with you two until my darling Nicky comes back."

Now Charlotte and Cornelius exchanged guilty looks.

"My Nicky, now that is a proper vampire," Shadow finished.


It had been a trying night, so when Cornelius had to retreat to his crypt, Charlotte crawled to bed at once. But midday, her sleep was interrupted by someone tapping on her door. When she got up and opened her bedroom door to find out what Cornelius and/or Shadow wanted at this ungodly hour, there was no one there. And the tapping continued.

At last her tired mind made the connection, and she made her way downstairs to the mighty front doors. She opened them, still half asleep and looked out at a group of men, dressed like cowboy-steampunk-hunter-guys. She stared at them.

"Who are you?"

"Vampire hunters," their leader announced in an overly dramatic manner, "come here to save you from the dead fiend of the night!"

"Oh," said Charlotte, already about to close the doors. "As much as I appreciate the effort, it's not really needed."

And that was when the group of vampire hunters forced their way in. Charlotte woke up in an instant. "Hey! You're trespassing!" she protested, grabbing the shoulders of the closest man. "Get out, I'm fine! Anybody could handle this vampire."

The man brushed her off with ease and the hunters looked at each other. The leader nodded. "She's under his spell," he concluded.

"No, I'm serious! He's not dangerous, just... horribly misinformed!" Charlotte stared at the four men. They were vampire hunters. Everybody knows what vampire hunters do to vampires. And she had let them into the castle. Oh god. "Cornelius is harmless, I promise! He reads vampire fics online, and, and he sings! I think he likes musicals - he even enjoys gardening!"

They all stared.

"I think she's delirious too," the youngest-looking man in the group commented.

The leader looked distraught a moment. "Fear not, young maiden! I, the vampire hunter Abe van Jaeger shall save you!" he announced with great drama. While Charlotte tried to figure out why he insisted on speaking like the role-playing nerds in class, he used her momentarily distraction to kiss her hand, all gallantly. Great, she thought, wiping her hand on her black gothic nightgown.

There were too many of them for her to handle alone. Judging from how easily Cornelius had been defeated by Nightstalker, she would have to do this alone. Besides, it was daytime. He'd be reduced to cinders if he walked into the sun.

Okay, the plan: divide the group, take them out one by one and then dump their sorry arses outside. It shouldn't be too hard, at the moment they seemed blissfully unaware that the fair maiden they wanted to save wasn't buying into their bullshit act.

"Alright, reconvene over here!" Abe van Whatever said, turning dramatically. His trenchcoat swished around him, much like Nightstalker's cloak had swished. Each move was carefully chosen to maintain the cool image. Charlotte's dislike of him was growing rapidly.

"Okay," he continued, flicking his perfectly styled maple syrup brown shoulder-length hair over his shoulder, "we know where the bloodsucker rests, but let's wait till nightfall so he can kill off some minor characters before the hero stakes him."

"Yeah," said one of the men. "We wouldn't want to bother him during the day when he's defenceless and sleeping."

They are going to kill him, Charlotte realised. They're actually...

Cornelius might be a vampire, but no one had the right to waltz in and murder him. Especially not this wannabe Van Helsing.

"I need some time," van Jaeger said, winking at Charlotte. "Got to let the damsel in distress fall in love with me."

"I'm barely seventeen!" Charlotte exclaimed.

The vampire hunters looked at Charlotte, and then at the head vampire hunter. Abe van Jaeger had a glamorous raggedy look about him, and there was a strange sheen on his skin, like he had had work done. No way was he a day younger than 35.

"It's okay as long as you look older," he concluded.

"But I don't!"

"Anyway..." Van Jaeger brushed over the minor problem and turned to his fellow psychos. "Paul, hand over the weapon's bag."

Paul, the youngest member of the group did as he was told. Van Jaeger, vampire hunter ordinaire, opened the bag - and sighed heavily. "I distinctly remember I told you to pack the stakes, that's S-T-A-K-E-S, not steaks."

Suddenly Charlotte didn't fear so much for Cornelius any longer. What vampire wouldn't be able to handle these nitwits? Her hopes were shot down immediately - obviously a vampire who based his view of reality on really awful fictional works written by hormonal teenagers.

"Are you guys for real?" she asked, coming up to them.

"Of course we're real!" Paul answered. "See guys, I said she was delirious!"

"That's not what I meant, dumbass," Charlotte growled. As her anger built up, she felt somewhat strange. "See, the vampire you're planning to kill, he's a person. Yes, he kidnapped me, I know, and while it might only be the Stockholm syndrome messing with my head, he's actually a nice -"

"Darling... um, whats-your-name," van Jaeger said. "He is evil."

Charlotte didn't react when the strange man calling her darling. But when he allowed himself to reach out and touch her cheek in what would have been considered a loving or caring manner hadn't he been way older than her, then, boy did she react.

Abe von Jaeger had no idea what hit him, or rather, why he was airborne. The fleeting sensation was okay, fun even - he was flying! - until he hit the stone floor. Charlotte had grabbed his arm, spun around and heaved him over her back, ultimately slamming him onto the floor in front of her. Then, for good measure, she stomped on his hand and he yelped. Karate was paying off.

The three other vampire hunters looked at her, wide eyed. Charlotte advanced on them, still feeling strange, disconnected somewhat. The bite wound Cornelius' teeth had left on her arm, started to throb horrendously underneath the bandage she had improvised earlier.

"Get out before I heave you out the door!" she declared boldly to the vampire hunters, who were already backing away from her, and then she promptly fainted.

Next part this way.

Allehelgenskostyme

Siden jeg er 90 % sikker på at jeg kommer til å bli ferdig i tide (bank i bordet) tar jeg sjansen på å poste om årets Allehelgenskostyme. Det var vanskelig å bestemme seg i år (jeg hadde skikkelig lyst på en sånn, men hva slags klær skulle man ha på?), og dessuten ville jeg sy. Jeg syr jo aldri ellers.

Jeg er allerede ferdig med et kostyme. Lillebroren min liker vampyrer - en fascinasjon jeg tror jeg kan stå bak, selv om jeg har prøvd å dytte ham i retning pirater - så jeg har sydd vampyrkappe i velur, pluss en blodrød viktoriansk jabot til ham. Og så fikk han selvlysende vampyrgebiss. Han ble ti for ei uke siden og allerede lurer han på når han kan få sånne vampyrtenner som jeg har. Siden han ble litt entusiastisk og beit på alle i huset da han fikk plastsettet (stakkars, han rakk ikke opp til halsen på noen...), tror jeg det er klokelig å vente litt før han får faktisk skarpe tenner.

I år skal jeg være ei hulder, så det gir meg jo mye å leke med. I Norge ble huldra som oftest skildra som ei eksepsjonelt vakker jente kledd i bondeklær, men det ville gjort for et kjedelig kostyme. Jeg har heller gått for trollaktig vesen som bor i skogen og ikke greier håret.



De har ikke symaskiner ute i skogen.

Toppen er jeg ferdig med. Jeg brukte dette mønsteret fra BurdaStyle, samme som jeg modifiserte for zombiedreperkostymet. Jeg sydde på et langt, tynt tøystykke som går rundt heile toppen, så den ser ut som en virkelig stygg babydollkjole, men det får så være, det kommer ikke til å vises, og jeg nekter å bruke korsett rett på huden, fordi at æsj, svette.

Umake knapper. Jeg liker dem.

Vintage mosegrønt stoff fra bestemor, foret med grovt linstoff som kikker fram her og der. Det var vanskelig å akseptere de rå kantene, men jeg tror jeg kommer til å overleve.

Jeg skal ha underbustkorsett på, lagd av mønster jeg har tegna heilt selv, med litt hjelp og mye banning. Jeg er utrolig stolt over kreasjonen, og jeg håper det passer, for hvis ikke har jeg kasta bort mange timer med handsying. Det er avstiva med stål, dekorert sånn passe, og kantbandet er perfekt. Nå skal jeg bare bli ferdig med snørehullene. Som jeg hater snørehull, det er alltid så mange av dem, og jeg har enda ikke funnet noen teknikk som gjør at alle blir like pene.

Det som irriterer meg mest med sying (bortsett fra snørehull og brodering), er alle de små, ubrukelige tøybitene man får til over fra hvert. eneste. prosjekt. man. gjør. Jeg har spart på dem i to år med tanke på å lage et huldreskjørt, og har bare aldri kommet meg til å gjøre det før nå.

Ikke det beste bildet av skjørtet, men kan du se hvor Mau gjemmer seg?

Katta elsker skjørtet så langt. Jeg bruker et eksistrerende skjørt som base, også skal jeg sy en handlepose full av stoff i ulike farger (grønt, svart og brunt, og mer svart, for det meste) på det. Skjørtet ser bra ut så lenge det ikke ligger i en haug på golvet, forresten, bare se:

Halvparten igjen.

Avslutter med Mau fordi det ikke har vært blogga mye om henne i det siste. Jeg flytta noen stoffesker, rydda og ga vekk litt stoff, og da ble det akkurat plass til en liten kattepus. Hun er storfornøyd med at jeg hengte et skjerf mellom eskene også, sånn at hun kan krype inn og gjemme seg. Nå får jeg ha senga mi for meg selv.

A Very Dark Gothic Tale of Vampiric Love: III

The moment Cornelius crawled out of his crypt with coffin-hair and wrinkled bat-pajamas, Charlotte grabbed him by the oversized vampire-collar and held him against the wall in the damp crypt.

"She scares me!" Charlotte hissed, hair in a frizzy halo around her head and bags underneath her eyes. She had waited hours for the vampires to wake up and had barely slept all day because of Shadow.

"I'm dead, but I still need to breathe," Cornelius choked out, and Charlotte let him go. He coughed a few times and lost the bluish tint Charlotte had thought was normal for vampires pre-breakfast. Cue oops.

Lord Nightstalker rose too, and at the moment he looked far from his usual impossibly beautiful self. Tumbling out of the coffin did little to redeem his ultra cool vampire image.

"Tiny wardrobe malfunction," he grumbled, disentangling himself from the overly swishy cloak. When Charlotte offered a helping hand (Cornelius had vanished, perhaps because it wasn't socially acceptable for vampires to wear pajamas like the one he donned), Lord Nightstalker waved it aside. "No thank you, I'm fine. But thanks."

Charlotte didn't care. She was too tired, after spending most of the day hiding from the younger girl, till she finally found the room she woke up, where she crawled in under the covers and promptly fell asleep just to endure surreal nightmares about garden gnomes. Now the plan was to keep close to Cornelius, avoid Shadow and try to be polite but brief with Lord Nightstalker. Then, home, hopefully with her sanity still intact.

Cornelius should have been briefed with her plans because what happened was quite different


The four of them gathered in for breakfast in some formal looking room. Lord Nightstalker was greeted cheerfully by his human girlfriend, and in turn he ignored her completely. He had found an interesting book in the library.

"Good evening, Charlotte!" Shadow chirped upon spotting her new best friend.

Charlotte sat down by the table and felt her heart try to leap out of her chest. "I'm so sorry I left you last night," the young girl continued, "but I couldn't find you and then I was so tired I simply had to go to bed!"

"Oh, no worries! No worries at all!" Charlotte held back a little sigh of relief, imagining the tantrum the girl would have thrown had she known the effort Charlotte had put down into avoiding her.

"Slept well?" Cornelius asked. Charlotte nodded, choosing not to elaborate on the psychedelic garden gnomes she had been chased by.

Everyone seated, they waited. Cornelius sent the door an annoyed glance, wondering what kept the servants from bringing the girls their food. The vampires couldn't eat normal food, at least not without excessive vomiting, and would feed later. But breakfast was a ritual.

Then he remembered he didn't have any servants any longer, and that Verona had run away with Igor. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, running off to make breakfast for his human guest and pretend wife. "I'll go see whatever keeps them!"

Charlotte grumbled silently. Who did he think he was fooling?

"Shouldn't you eat?" Shadow asked Nightstalker.

He put his book down at last. "The most sensible thing I've heard you say tonight, darling."

Shadow immediately offered a wrist. Nightstalker didn't hesitate to snatch up a knife from the table and make an incision, where he latched on. Charlotte tried hard not to faint. Perhaps she had laced the corset too tight.

Instead of shrieking, screaming, struggling - every course of action natural when someone is feeding on your blood, Shadow just kept smiling. The deer-eyed loving look was sickening. Charlotte was happy she hadn't eaten in a while.

The couple finished. Charlotte didn't know where to look and tried to act like what had just happened was completely normal. She was married to Cornelius - or were they engaged? She couldn't remember. But of course she would know about this. She was happy vampires didn't seem to be able to read minds; otherwise Nightstalker would have heard her going crazy about the spectacle.

Shadow laid her arms around her centuries older boyfriend. Her arm was still bleeding. "Do you love me Nicky?"

"Of course," said Lord Nightstalker, not even bothering to look up from his book. Charlotte tilted her head to read the title: The Dracula Cookbook of Blood. True love indeed. Then the vampire looked up and across the table, noticing Charlotte's pallor. "Are you alright?"

"Oh no!" Shadow exclaimed, realising what must have upset her best friend in the whole world - no wait, universe! The whole cosmos! "You mustn't worry about me! I find it thrilling that he's always on the verge of killing me! It makes me feel so... so alive!"

Not for long if Nightstalker had anything to say about it. Charlotte couldn't help but glance at the book in his pale hands.

"I'm okay," she said. A few sessions with a skilled therapist should be enough to sort her out. She avoided Shadow's gaze, thinking it better not to stay away from her crazy. Until Cornelius came back, the next best person to talk to was unfortunately Lord Nightstalker.

She cleared her throat. Taking the scientific route would distract her from the plain icky side. "So you don't... bite the jugular?"

"No, that leaves an awful mess. Besides the victim bleeds out in a manner of minutes when the carotid artery is severed... Useless for anything else than murder, really." He silenced a moment. Charlotte mentally slapped herself. She had had to ask. And then Nightstalker continued: "I went through a few loves of my life before figuring that one out."

"Charming," Charlotte replied and looked away. Nightstalker, no matter how silly his name was, had murdered people.

Lord Nightstalker, having been preoccupied reading when Cornelius left, noticed his host's absence, and smiled. Time to set the plan in motion. The cookbook was put aside.

"I must confess, fair beauty, that I have hidden intentions."

At first Charlotte thought he was talking to Shadow, 'cause she didn't feel like a fair beauty. She wore the same Victorian ensemble as yesterday, and the downside of living in an old castle was no plumbing, thusly no showers. "Excuse me?"

"You cannot possibly be content like this, living with Cornelius. Between you and me, everyone knows he's not... the sharpest knife in the drawer, so to say."

Charlotte glanced at the door, heart-rate picking up. "I think I should go see if Cornelius needs any help."

"Don't you long for more?"

"Not really."

"Well, I could give you more!" he said.

Charlotte fumed. What was it about vampires that made them totally ignore what you said? Because she was human? Racist nitwits the whole lot of them!

Lord Nightstalker rose. "Come with me and I will give you eternal life, what Cornelius would never give you!"

Charlotte blinked. "Why would you do that?"

"I have something unsettled with Cornelius."

"I thought you and Cornelius were friends."

"Not really," he said. "This story just needed a dashingly handsome antagonist."

"Alright," she said, still eyeing the door longingly. "So, lemme get this straight - you want to murder me to get back at him."

"Yes, that's pretty much it."

Charlotte didn't know what to say. The stunned silence was broken by Shadow, who just about exploded: "How dare you make a move on my boyfriend?!"

"I-- You can hardly say I was the one who--" Charlotte sputtered. She didn't get farther, as Shadow suddenly seemed to collapse headfirst down onto the table.

Lord Nightstalker released his firm grip on his girlfriend's head and sighed in relief. "That ought to shut her up for a while."

"Is she gonna be okay?"

"She's had worse," Lord Nightstalker commented casually. "So, what do you say? Join me in reanimation!"

Just then, Cornelius returned and Charlotte was spared having to answer. She hadn't thought anyone could outweird Cornelius, but tall, dark and dead across the table gave him quite a run for his money.

Cornelius brought the girls food. Charlotte looked at the delicious toast and fought against a gag reflex working overtime. The images of the bloodletting were still all too vivid in her mind. And then there was Nightstalker, of course.

Shadow was still out cold, drooling at the table. Cornelius put her plate down beside her head, and waited a moment for her to come to. When she didn't, he nudged her gently. She moaned, but nothing more happened.

"It looks like Shadow is tired," Cornelius said.

The conversation picked up again, more mundane matters this time. Cornelius was trying to keep it going. Lord Nightstalker tried to keep Cornelius out of what he considered his conversation with the young maiden opposite him. Charlotte wanted to eat in peace and tried to ignore them both.

But when Lord Nightstalker suddenly remarked upon something special, he had her complete attention once again: "I cannot see the Mark upon you."

The remark was innocent in itself, but Charlotte felt a jolt of uneasiness that didn't have anything to do with nausea. "The mark?" she asked.

Lord Nightstalker gasped in mock surprise. "Has our dear Cornelius not Marked you as his own? My dear, you stand free to be claimed by anyone, you have no bite!"

Charlotte's mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Nightstalker had a plan he would follow through with, one way or another. She needed whatever protection she could get.

"Bite?" she repeated. "The mark, it's a bite?"

Cornelius frowned. "What's this mark you're talking about? A vampire bite would be--"

He was cut off rather roughly when Charlotte rose in a hurry to smack her wrist into his mouth, causing the sharp incisors to break the vulnerable skin. She winced slightly, but the pain was worth it. It seemed pretty obvious who would want to claim her if Cornelius didn't. Lord Nightstalker had crossed over from hot to silly-named-guy to dangerous creature, and had at last landed on deranged psycho killer with an agenda she didn't like.

"There," she gasped, lowering her arm. "All marked!"

Cornelius paled, Charlotte's blood staining his lips. He wheezed, got up from the table and bolted from the room. Seconds later a series of truly horrid retching noises were heard.

It took Charlotte a few moments to decipher the meaning of this. "Oh no-- I'm so sorry!" she called after him. "He's allergic to my blood," she mumbled to Lord Nightstalker, completely forgetting he was a deranged psycho killer with an agenda she didn't like.

"You're B?"

"Yeah," she answered absent-mindedly, gazing after her unfortunate kidnapper.

"My favourite," Lord Nightstalker purred.

As her blood flowed freely from the open wound, staining the white table-cloth red, Charlotte slowly came to realise she was in the same room as a bloodthirsty vampire. "Gotta go check on Cornelius, see if he's okay!" she blurted, and vanished as fast as possible in the impossible gown.

"Dear gods, why did you do that?" Cornelius complained when they re-entered the room a few minutes later. He didn't catch her answer ("Lord Nightstalker is planning to kill me."), as he gazed upon Lord Nightstalker. "Nicholas, are you eating the table-cloth?"

"Of course not!" Lord Nightstalker denied, with bits of textile between his teeth. Charlotte shuddered at the comical sight, noticing he had consumed the parts she had bled on.

Nonetheless they sat down again, no conversation this time. Charlotte was severely spooked and tried to inch her chair away from Nightstalker. Cornelius was too nauseous to speak. Lord Nicholas Nightstalker boiled with anger over still another lost opportunity to claim the girl to whom Cornelius Reading's heart belonged. The silence didn't last long.

"I will not tolerate this any longer!" Lord Nightstalker declared. Cornelius and Charlotte both watched, in confusion and horror, as he rose, pointing a threatening clawed finger at the other vampire. "You cannot come between us like this!"

"I assure you, I have nothing against you and your, your..." Cornelius glanced at Shadow, who was still asleep, "... sleeping beauty getting together."

"Playing games will only aggravate me, Reading!" Nightstalker snarled. Charlotte found herself unable to look away from his growing canines. Funny how she hadn't thought of vampires as really dangerous until now. Then again, now they seemed very freaking dangerous.

She got to her feet and ran for the door. When Nightstalker simply seemed to appear in front of her, continuing to grab hold of her arm, she produced a scream so high-pitched it would have made even the overly girly Shadow proud. Then she rammed her foot into his knee - or she would have, if Lord Nightstalker hadn't been wearing a cloak and she could have seen his legs. She missed by a mile.

Cornelius rose. "Unhand my, um -- my wife! Or fiancé, I can't really remember! Right this instant!"

All he got in return was a cold laugh. Nightstalker really enjoyed the drama, actually so much that if she hadn't been scared witless at the moment, Charlotte would have thought he would have to work with the villain theme he had assumed.

"And what will you do if I don't?"

"Um," said Cornelius, unexpectedly having to answer to his own threat. "Painful things, I assume."

"Like I came unprepared!" Nightstalker laughed, reaching into a pocket and throwing its contents at Cornelius' feet.

Seeds, Charlotte realised, raising an eyebrow when they did nothing to him. But then, to her surprise, Cornelius sighed, and started counting them. "One, one seed – two, two seeds – three, three seeds - four..."

"That ought to keep him occupied for a while." Nightstalker smiled, baring fangs. She was dragged out of the dining room. "And now, I will be having a drink out of that lovely neck of yours."

"Or not!" Charlotte growled in anger, and smashed in his face with the spiked mace she had snatched from one of the numerous armaments around the fortress while he acted like a bad Bond-villain in front of Cornelius.

Nightstalker was out cold. While vampires could regenerate and heal quickly, he had been badly mauled. Charlotte decided to handle him on her own, grabbed hold of that silly cloak of his and was able to haul him to the front door without trouble before he started to come to. He might have come to only to be knocked out again - on their way downstairs she made sure his head fell hard on every step of the twenty-one step long staircase.

Downstairs, she unlocked the mighty entrance and heaved him out. He came to, just in time to feel the impact of the gravel, and hear her bellow: "And stay out!"

Lord Nightstalker sat up, covered in grime and dust-bunnies, no short of furious. Not once, during his six hundred and fifty-two years as a mighty vampire, a fiend of the night, a blood-sucking incubus of hell, a grand something of you get what I mean - not once had a mere human dared go against his will. But now this girl, none less than the spouse of Cornelius Reading, had the nerve to lay hand on him!

He staggered up, fuming. "Mark my words!" he hollered, so angry he could have ripped off someone's head, preferably hers, with ease. "My revenge will be quick and merciless! It will strike you - both of you!"

And with those words he turned to stomp away, but got tangled in his own cloak, tripped in his feet, fell and impaled himself on one of Cornelius' garden gnomes.

Charlotte shrieked in terror when he turned to dust and ashes with an anguished wail, and ran out. "Oh my god, are you alright?!" she shouted, running for the ash-pile, but stopped. He wasn't bloody alright.

Cornelius came out of his magnificent dark black gothic castle, having counted three hundred and seventy-nine seeds, and ran up to Charlotte. Her knees had given in under her and she sat crying, at a safe distance from what would have been a corpse hadn't the victim been a vampire.

"He-e tripped," she sobbed, pointing at the pile of ashes scattered across a garden gnome and Cornelius' much beloved begonias. "I could just as w-well have sta-staked him myself - I didn't mean for him to die! Oh god, I killed him!"

Cornelius led her inside, only stopping to mourn that Nightstalker had fallen on one of his absolute favourite garden gnomes and gotten grime and gore all over it. Well inside, he tried his best to comfort the distressed girl. None of the vampire fics he had read said anything about how to stop someone from crying their eyes out over basically killing someone, so he was on his own. Which was good, otherwise he would have fucked up yet another time.

It didn't take Charlotte long to remember what Lord Nightstalker had tried to do, and thusly realise he was still a deranged psycho killer, albeit a dead one, and she felt better.

"It's strange, I didn't like him and he scared me and he wanted to kill me, but now that he's dead, I don't know what to think. You know, death is such a strange thing... Yes, death is such--" She stopped mid-sentence. "Why do I feel compelled to sing?"

"Because The Author has an unhealthy obsession with this... Austrian vampire musical," Cornelius grumbled, still having his horrible musical number from chapter one fresh in mind. No wonder Charlotte found him silly.

"Oh," muttered Charlotte, before giving the ceiling a scorching glare. "Oi, will you please stop it? I hate singing!"

There came a disembodied voice: "Sorry."

Cornelius glared at his ceiling. "You're not!"

"Nope," replied the author. "And it's a grusical, not a musical! Huge difference!"

"Whatever," Cornelius and Charlotte replied in unison.

Not faced in the slightest by talking to their creator, the unlikely pair continued.

"Don't worry about Nightstalker," Cornelius said, handing his kidnapped would-have-been-wife a steaming cup of tea. "All it takes is one drop of blood dropped on his ashes, and he's as good as new."

Charlotte choked on the tea and scalded her insides, not at all keen on the idea of a revived Lord Nightstalker.

"The Hammer-movies got something right," mused Cornelius, as usual oblivious to Charlotte's fears. "I know, shocking isn't it?" he said, at last noticing her worry and then completely misunderstanding what she was worried about.

"But out here, that's not likely to happen?"

"No." Cornelius rose. "And, personally, I don't see a problem with that. If you'll please excuse me, I shall go bury his ashes to prevent revivification from happening."

He stopped in the door. "I guess that means you can go home."

Charlotte looked up from her tea to meet his eyes. "Yeah," she said, without any real enthusiasm. She rose to follow him, and then looked down at herself. During the brief struggle with Lord Nightstalker, the dress had been utterly spoiled. It was also bloodstained. The wound where Cornelius' teeth cut through her skin was still bleeding.

"I can't go home looking like this."

"You could just e-mail your parents and tell them where you are. And by that I mean you could lie, I think they would be upset if they knew the truth. The computer's in the library, you remember?"

"Hmm," she said, drying her tears. "Good idea."

Next part this way.

Venn til venn

Av og til stopper jeg opp, glaner på landet mitt generelt (som oftest representert av en uskyldig gresstust i hagen), og bare: "Hvorfor bor jeg her?!"

Sjette oktober annonserte Derek Landy at den første boka i Skulduggery Pleasant var gratis som e-bok i heile oktober. (Her var jeg nødt til å lese om igjen, for jeg hadde feber, og ingen ville vel finne på å gi bort den geniale boka?) Men den var faktisk gratis. Gratis for alle sammen. (Her begynte jeg å planlegge hvem jeg skulle tvinge den på.) Og så leste jeg heile greia. Gratis for alle i Amerika. (Her lagde jeg ei liste over folk jeg vil drukne i et badekar. Den består av heile USAs befolkning. Kommer til å bli travel.)

Det er litt merkelig hvordan det amerikanske markedet trenger en egen versjon av britiske bøker. Den amerikanske utgaven har fått undertittel, og et nytt omslag som fokuserer på Valkyrie Cain istedenfor Skulduggery. Også er den sikkert totalt omskrevet. Stakkars den amerikaneren som må lese colour istedenfor color.

Den eneste grunnen til at jeg poster om dette, er sjansen til å vinne signerte bøker og plakater, for jeg er en grådig liten minion. Men jeg synes jeg kunne fortjent en premie, for jeg har vært forferdelig forkjøla den siste uka, og har bare sovet og lest meg gjennom serien, og når man har feber er det superlett å drømme om inntrykk man har hatt i løpet av dagen, så jeg har stort sett vært på eventyr med folka fra serien. (Og når jeg skriver eventyr mener jeg repeterende mareritt det var umulig å rømme fra.) Jeg våkner, lurer på hvem familiefolka rundt meg er, og spør hvor Skranglebein har tatt veien, var ikke vi midt ei mordetterforskning, og så finner jeg ham under puta.

Fordi at jeg ikke skal ha kasta bort tida til de som faktisk leser gjennom rammelet jeg kommer med, presenterer jeg herved:

Kort og godt hvorfor du burde lese Skulduggery Pleasant!

- du blir kul,

- livet ditt blir reklamebra,

- du går ned i vekt fordi du glemmer å spise,

- overarmene dine vil bli sterke av å holde bøkene oppe foran ansiktet ditt,

- dette er geniale grunn nummer fem til at du burde lese,

- jeg kommer kanskje til å like deg,

- serien gjør narr av vampyrer,

- Skulduggery Pleasant er et skjelett og en detektiv - hva mer skal det til for at du blir nysgjerrig?! Altså ungdommen i dag, nå går jeg og legger meg.

A Very Dark Gothic Tale of Vampiric Love: II

Cornelius Reading sighed, and wondered how other men managed to live peacefully with the women in their un-lives. Charlotte was raging.

It was less than an hour since she woke and found herself kidnapped by a bloodsucking fiend of the night, and during that time, she had, after a while, managed to find her way back to her room, and had of course found her clothes to be missing.

And when she stalked back to the library, Cornelius had the audacity to ask her a favour.

"Are you insane?" she asked, and he actually seemed puzzled by the question.

"I don't think I am," Cornelius answered straightforward. "Why do you ask?"

Charlotte had been brought up to be polite, and she extended this to vampires, even one that had kidnapped her. "I don't know, it could have explained a thing or two."

"But," she continued, adopting a firmer tone, "I thought you were going return me. You promised!"

"I never promised anything," Cornelius argued.

"I wanna go home!"

"But if you would just hear me out -"

"I'm seventeen! I have to be home before half past ten on schooldays! My parents are probably worried sick about me already, don't you care?"

"I have a problem," Cornelius admitted.

"Tell me something I don't know," Charlotte sighed.

"You know?" he exclaimed. "How?"

"I'm psychic."

"Really?"

"No, you -" She silenced and took a deep breath. "Just continue. Your problem."

"I need help, sort of," Cornelius explained. "I invited an old friend over earlier, thinking I would have a wife to show off. And he's coming today -"

"Tonight," Charlotte corrected.

"- and if he realises what has happened here, I will be the laughing stock of the sanguine community, forever!"

"And if I don't go home, I will be grounded, forever."

"Technically that would be impossible for a mortal," Cornelius said. "Back to my guest - he is only staying for a short while, and you don't even have to talk to him if you don't want to, I'm sure he would understand. He's coming soon, so you should probably go change. You can't meet him wearing a nightgown, imagine the scandal."

"Excuse me?" Charlotte sputtered. "When did I agree to do this?" She advanced on him, and Cornelius backed off. She had already slapped him around the place. "I - want - to - go - home! Now!"

And then Cornelius put up the saddest puppy eyes she had ever seen. Charlotte's resolve wavered.

"I really have to go home. I have homework."

His eyes watered a little.

Charlotte realised the alternative to meeting supernatural beings, was doing homework. She had a heap of math on her plate tonight, and had to rehearse for choir tomorrow, which she rather dreaded. Her mother had made her join a more feminine activity under threat of not sponsoring her martial arts classes. Between studies and extracurrucular activities, Charlotte didn't have the time for a part-time job.

"It's not as if I have anything better to do," she mumbled, giving into the power of puppy eyes. "But I'll have to let my parents know I'm staying the night at a friend's."

"Really? You would do it?"

"I'll pretend while he's here. But I'd rather be your fiancé than your wife, okay? It's just less weird."

"Thanks," Cornelius beamed. "No worries, I'll make it up to you, and the whole kidnapping thing too." He thought it best not to mention his guest was meant to be staying for a week.

Charlotte had almost violated the wardrobe in her room, in a desperate search for something appropriate to wear. At last she had decided on a long dress she was sure was from the Victorian age. She had to wear a corset to fit into it, but this was, by her standards, better than to sport the skanky black gothic garb she'd found. She was going nowhere near the PVC and pleather and spikes unless she hit her head and decided to become a dominatrix. Which was unlikely.

I look like I just escaped from some badly written Victorian fanfic," she grumbled. "And I can barely breathe!" she added with a wheeze, finding the corset too restricting on her modern, healthy figure.

"I made an honest mistake," Cornelius protested. "The stories said Victorian dresses and corsets was all the rage nowadays amongst vampire kidnapping victims. Look at the bright side, now we match, and I feel as silly as you do."

Charlotte didn't listen. "How could you not realise those stories were written by hormone-fuelled wannabe-gothic teenyboppers who couldn't bother doing as much as a speck of research before churning out their tripe?" The long sentence left her heaving for breath, and she almost tripped in the black fabric. "And," she added, once she didn't feel lightheaded anymore, "my butt looks huge!"

"It's a bustle, darling, it's supposed to -"

"You know," Charlotte cut in, "you should have kidnapped my sister! She loves this kinda shit, 'cause, I mean, she's fourteen and a complete dimwit. No offense."

"None taken," he retorted, opening the front doors out into the garden.

Outside, the moon illuminated everything in view. Curious about her sanguine kidnapper's lair, Charlotte turned and gasped in utter awe. While most fictional vampire kidnappers chose to live in black gothic mansions situated in large cities where victims can be easily found, Cornelius Reading resided in a freaking castle.

As she was overcome with wonder, Charlotte was immediately thankful for the supportive hand he rested around her waist. She had come dangerously close to tripping down the magnificent staircase leading up to the castle's entrance. Then she realised what he was doing - touching her again! - and swatted his hand away, now making sure to keep a distance, both to the vampire and the treacherous stairs.

"How do you pay for all this?" she asked, really meaning to express her amazement.

"Credit cards, mostly."

Oh dear, Charlotte thought. "I assume you haven't heard of the recession?"

"Recession?"

"Nevermind," she blurted, holding back a nervous laugh. The poor bloke would find out soon enough.

She looked around again, and then, understanding they were alone in the vast fortress, she asked: "Don't you have servants? I always thought that was a huge part of the vampire stereotype."

"Well, there was Igor," Cornelius said, keeping an eye out for his mysterious guest. He hesitated, and when he spoke again there was a hint of hurt in his voice. "From what I understand, my second wife ran away with him."

Oh burn, thought Charlotte.

"That is the downside of hiring young, attractive men to do your bidding." Cornelius grumbled.

"Oh."

Charlotte's eyes started to get used to the faint light from the moon, and stared at her surroundings. "That's a nice garden," she complimented him.

"You really think so?" Cornelius beamed with pride, forgetting about the harsh way his wife Marissa had left him while he had been deep in slumber. Finding her aged note on his coffin had been quite a blow. "It's been abandoned for nine years and I haven't had much time for gardening... I'm afraid it's still a little wild."

"No, it's nice," Charlotte assured him, and worked up the courage to ask her next question. "What's with all the garden gnomes though?"

"Oh, do you like them?" Here Charlotte only gave a murmur, but the bloodsucker didn't notice her lacking interest and just continued, with great enthusiasm: "I find them absolutely enchanting!"

Apparently he did; she counted at least nine of the creepy small statues peering at them. It would seem Cornelius wasn't the ordinary run-of-the-mill vampire. She wished she had remained ignorant to the small things - thanks to an incident in her early childhood, she was convinced such creatures were out to eat her soul.

All thoughts of evil garden gnomes were chased away when a black gothic car pulled up outside the gates, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Cornelius gestured to Charlotte, offering her an arm. She took it, willing to play along to impress his friend. Now was the moment she realised she was going to be introduced to another vampire. Quite strange for someone who had only known them to exist for a few hours. She didn't know what to hope for, but if this new bloodsucker was a copy of Cornelius, she was bound to go insane.

A cloaked man emerged from the car, the black fabric of the cloak delicately draping itself around him in a dramatic manner before he threw it aside in an even more dramatic manner.

"He makes that look so easy," Cornelius remarked, green with envy.

Charlotte didn't really listen. A second, smaller figure came out, taking the hand of the man. When the couple approached Cornelius' castle, Charlotte's eyebrows were raised higher and higher. The girl was wearing a really short black, gothic dress. Charlotte owned belts longer than that.

The man's attire was so peculiar it calls for its own paragraph, which follows: While Cornelius had been dressed up in a century old outfit plus mismatched cloak, and had ended up looking like the common movie vampire, this man really dressed the part. Underneath the black cloak he wore the usual ensemble; vest, jacket, usual vampire attire with hints of gothic influence. Only, unlike most vampire lifestylers, wannabes and costumers, he pulled it off.

The cloak seemed to be alive, swishing around him, brought to life by the chill night wind. The girl at his side ought to be freezing. It turned out the weird noise Charlotte had strived to place came from the girl's shattering teeth. Nevermind his skanky companion, the vampire looked undoubtedly cool.

That was the reason why Charlotte's traitorous heart was aflutter when Cornelius strode forwards to greet his sanguine friend. He smiled and let out a roaring laugh as they shook hands, like friends who hadn't seen each other in a very long time. Then Cornelius turned and offered Charlotte a hand. The perfect gentlemen.

"Charlotte, this is one of my oldest friends." He practically beamed. "Lord Nightstalker."

And so the mystic sway the mysterious stranger had over her was gone. Trying not to blurt out with laughter, she managed to press out a rather pained, "Nice to meet you, sir."

Her heart beat fast. She didn't like the thought of possibly offending a vampire, but the vampire in question took it with grace and shrugged. "All the cool names were taken."

"Oh," said Charlotte. "And, um, sorry," she rambled on. "My manners are better, usually."

"No worries, fair beauty," the vampire purred, placing a kiss on her palm. Charlotte was pierced by a jealous glare from the short-skirted girl, so she swallowed uneasily and looked elsewhere. She had no intentions of insulting vampires' girlfriends either.

Introductions were made in a more common fashion after Charlotte's blunder. The girl's name was Shadow. She was human, and from what Charlotte could understand, very possessive of her vampire boyfriend. Strangely it seemed this interest wasn't mutual.

Nightstalker shook off the hand of his girl, and went inside. Quite how it happened, Charlotte didn't know, but suddenly he had seized her arm, and led her down some random corridor. Behind them, Shadow chattered happily with Cornelius, who tried to follow her conversation about hot vampires. Needless to say, he was failing. ("Well, being male - and straight I might add, I have never really noticed the firmness of Lord Nightstalker's buttocks, I'm afraid...")

Charlotte, who had woken up to realise she had been kidnapped, had wrongly presumed her day couldn't get any worse. As the previous sentence might imply, she was wrong. Because after an hour spent in a comfortable lounge, where Charlotte, Nightstalker and Cornelius discussed a variety of surprisingly interesting topics and Shadow mainly was ignored, Lord Nightstalker suddenly gave a long-drawn yawn, baring sharp and quite scary fangs. Cornelius had also started to look kinda tired.

"Oh, look at the time," he announced, looking out a window to the east. And, true, dawn was drawing near. The sun had started to creep up behind the mountains. "Time to go to bed. You girls can have some human bonding time while we sleep," suggested Cornelius, beaming at them. "Good day."

And then the vampires were gone.

Charlotte glanced nervously at the girl, straightened out some wrinkles in her skirt, and cleared her throat. "So, um, hi."

"Hi."

There was an awkward silence. Charlotte briefly wondered how the vampires could have disappeared so freaking fast, and, considering her current situation, pondered on whether she should strangle Cornelius next time she saw him.

"So, how did you end up here?" asked Shadow.

"Well, I was... kidnapped," started Charlotte cautiously, a little afraid Shadow would think Cornelius totally bonkers. "I know it sounds silly that I'm staying with him -"

"Oh, I was kidnapped too!" squealed Shadow. "At first I was scared, but then I like realised all the vampire guys were, like, hot, really hot. Nightstalker is smexylicious, don't you think?"

"Well, I... don't know," mumbled Charlotte.

"O-M-G!" Shadow managed to pronounce each letter with even greater drama than the former. "I mean, are you freaking blind?"

"Well, I guess he's sort of...?"

"He's mine. Don't ever forget that."

There it was again, the invisible danger sign that informed Charlotte the other girl was a pretty little psycho, who would do really bad things to those who dared come close to her lovey-dovey.

"No worries, I'm, um, deeply in love with Cornelius," Charlotte lied, blushing like mad.

"Oh I know how you must feel!" sighed Shadow, delicately taking the arm of Charlotte, wrongly assuming the other girl to be as demented as herself.

"So you love Lord... Nightstalker?"

"Well, he did rape me and permanently scar me for life and leave me to be tortured in his dungeons of doom, but I really think it could work between us. I've never been so happy."

Charlotte swallowed and forced herself to smile. "That's... great."

Next part this way.

Jeg trenger en tidsmaskin...

Av og til kunne jeg ønske at jeg ble født for 150 år siden. Ikke misforstå - jeg setter stor pris på å ha stemmerett, retten til å eie egen eiendom, at jeg ikke må gifte meg med mindre jeg har lyst, at jeg kan ta en utdannelse utenom broderi, musikk og husmorplikter, og til slutt kan jeg innrømme at bukser er en praktisk ting å kunne ha på seg når man gjerne vil sitte uten å tenke på hvordan man plasserer beina.

Men det hadde vært fint å leve rundt 1870-1890.




1875. Source.

1886. Source.

1870-tallet. Source.

Worth, 1888. Source.

Worth, 1890. Source.

 ... jeg måtte selvfølgelig vært gift med en rik tulling for å ha råd til alle kjolene, spesielt de fra Worth, men jeg tenker at jeg kunne sendt gubben av gårde på ekspedisjon til India eller Kongo, og forhåpentligvis hadde han aldri kommet tilbake.

A Very Dark Gothic Tale of Vampiric Love: I

Historien skal oppdateres hver mandag til 31. oktober.

Cornelius Reading isn't your average emo vampire. While he might not enjoy all sides of vampirism, he's never seen reason to mope about for all eternity. But one night he fell asleep. For nine years.


When waking up, he finds himself abandoned by his not-so faithful wives, plus the servant Igor. His castle, though an awesome castle, isn't that awesome when he has to live there alone. So he sets out to find a new wife. Easy-peasy. He just has to brush up on modern vampire lore to know how to act around humans. And that's where he goes wrong.

Vampire vs. Reality

Cornelius Reading was not used to dealing with humans. Not only was he a vampire, but he had also been asleep for the better part of the twenty-first century. It was only three weeks since he woke up, but despite this, he was assured the introduction to his new human bride would be successful.

He paced restlessly outside her lush room in his vast, gothic fortress. Occasionally he tugged at the old Victorian suit he had dug out for the occasion. It was impeccable of course, but deep down he thought he looked plain silly, not to mention desperately outdated. But it was a requirement. He had put down extensive research. Vampires were supposed to dress like this now. The interwebz said so, lulz.

On the other side of the dark gothic door, his bride-to-be was still sleeping. Or rather, he had to admit, she was still out cold after he had kidnapped her.

His three past wives had left him during his nine-year-long snooze and he needed someone around, for obvious reasons. Living along in the middle of nowhere, halfway up a snowy mountainside might be very vampire-like, but also beyond boring, and you could only read a limited number of books and spend so many hours at the computer before your mind would start inching ever so fast towards insanity.

A soft groan coming from the room made him jerk, and he straightened, ready to waltz in and romance her, just like in the books. He glanced towards the tall, gothic windows and saw an unclear reflection. He really wished he had a mirror so he could check his opera-style cloak. The damned thing wouldn't sit right on his shoulders. Hand at the door-know, he listened at the door and then relaxed again. She wasn't awake yet. It was easy to tell, by the slow beating of her heart.

The wait was excruciating. Though he had lived long enough to watch eras pass, the matter of love is hard on young, old and un-dead alike.

Just when he was about to barge in, sure the blow he had dealt her had been too powerful and harmed her beyond repair, her heart picked up its pace. Awake at last! If he had a beating heart it would have sent streams of adrenaline into his bloodstream. However, it didn't, but that didn't stop his excitement.

The girl stirred. His entrance would have to be timed with perfection. He checked his hair and entered the room, the black gothic cloak fluttering behind.

Her high-pitched scream startled him, however, and the black gothic cloak got caught between his feet. He stumbled and fell. The girl sat up in bed, staring wide-eyed down at the man lying sprawled on the black gothic stone floor. And, because it was so bleeding obvious, she was momentarily distracted by the black gothic bedding, the black gothic walls, the black gothic furniture and the black gothic curtains hanging in front of what she bet was black gothic windows.

Cornelius sat up, as dignified as possible, and the girl's attention returned to him. She seemed a little confused. "Are you okay, sir?" she asked.

The mighty vampire scrambled up, cheeks a little flushed, but pulled himself together. "Ov corse, mah bootyful!" he pronounced charmingly. Poor Casanova was unawares his carefully groomed hair was now in complete disarray.

The girl, whose name was Charlotte, raised an eyebrow and shifted uncomfortably when he sat down on the bed, moving like liquid when he extended a hand towards her.

"Okay," she laughed nervously. "You're starting to freak me out."

He had long, glassy nails. Weird, she thought. He was dressed very strange too. But she had a notion the cloak-man wasn't the only strange thing she had encountered all day.  She just couldn't remember what could be weirder, though.

"come wif me," the cloaked man said, and against her better judgement, Charlotte took his hand and slipped out from beneath the black gothic covers. He had a really weird accent. She thought to ask about it, but it disappeared among thousand other questions surging her mind. Who was he? What was this place? And most importantly, why was she here? Or rather how had she ended up in here? And she had the most terrible headache.

She realised she had seen the man somewhere before. It took just a moment for her mind and memory to catch up with her, and then she understood the full extent of the freakish situation. Cornelius was just close enough to receive a punch for all his hardship.

"You!" and she smacked him, "Psycho!" another smack, "Kidnapping!" smack, "Creep!"

"Get away from me!" she shrieked at last, and Cornelius, shell-shocked and hurting, got out of her reach as fast as inhumanly possible. It would be wise, he figured, to keep a polite distance until she was swooning over him. Now his hair looked even worse.

"You better have an explanation for his," Charlotte threatened, voice cracking. "You... you psycho emo wannabe - I mean it! I'm capable of hurting you."

Cornelius didn't doubt her. He had, after all, swooped in on her when she was on her way home from karate.

"u don't haff to fear me," he started, dusting off his cloak. Charlotte's attack had left it looking sadly unstylish. He threw it off himself and started apologising to the startled girl.

"i'm vry srry, but it wuz necesary 2 kidnap u bcuz... be-because..." He silenced, realising he didn't really know why vampires had to steal their brides away from their normal lives before the romancing could begin. Kidnapping was a bit unromantic, he had to admit. "Well, I'm actually not sure," he finished.

Charlotte stared. He didn't have an accent, he was... he...

"Are you speaking... chatspeak?" she inquired, slowly overcoming her fear and starting to question the man's sanity instead. While he had surprised her when entering - he sent the door flying into the wall, which was why she had given a girly shriek she never would admit was hers, by the way - he had followed his entrance with stumbling in his own cloak in addition to being dressed up quite ridiculously. And now he was speaking lolcat. Maybe this was a really weird vivid dream.

Cornelius realised he had let his accent slip. "its laik dat in da storiiies, lol."

"Okay," said Charlotte. Her kidnapper was batshit insane. No surprise there, she thought, taking everything with exceptional calm. Maybe she was in shock. Yeah, that made sense. In shock, in a dream.

"everytin iz liek in da stories," said Cornelius, gesturing around the room. Charlotte looked at the black gothic bedding, the black gothic walls, the black gothic furniture and the black gothic curtains hanging in front of what was black gothic windows, and then back to him. Cornelius frowned. The girl wasn't responding like she was supposed to. Something was wrong. She should have been dazzled by now. Was the bedding not gothic enough?

His bride-to-be sat down on the bed again. "Stories?"

"Yes!" Cornelius exclaimed, seizing the opportunity to distract her from the disastrous introduction. "Come," I'll show you!"

He walked slowly out of the room, waiting for her to follow. Charlotte rose and followed him. Until now she hadn't realised she was wearing a black gothic nightgown in some silky material. She had left karate wearing her own clothes, which meant that the creep had changed her. She checked. Her underwear was still on. She postponed roundhousing him into next week and hurried after him to find out what stories he was talking about.

"The stories are on the interwebz, you know," Cornelius said, trying to strike up a conversation while they walked through the dark hallways of his lonely castle. He had shed the lolspeak, seeing as the girl didn't seem to like it. Charlotte, however, was too flabbergasted to speak. They were in an actual castle, the real old thing. At first she had thought it was a film set.

Needless to say, she was surprised to find a computer in the impossibly large library. The books were dusty and old. Cornelius was probably as old as them, she thought. On the way over he had smiled at her, and she had of course noticed his fangs. When she realised he didn't look like he was going to sink them into her neck - which he assured her he wouldn't do, as he was deadly allergic to her blood type - she stopped freaking out and threatening to hit him again.

Cornelius logged on and showed her the stories. Charlotte only needed to skim through a few pages before she was even more confused than ever.

"Lemme get this straight," she said. "You're a vampire."

Cornelius nodded.

"You have been asleep, like half my life, and you're way older than me - which kinda makes you a paedophile, no offense... And, and you're basing your view of reality on badly written vampire fics you found online?"

"Yes," Cornelius said. "But I've read books too, not only stories."

"And you kidnapped me in hopes I would fall in love with me and be your eternal wife?"

"Something along those lines."

"Only an idiot would fall in love with someone who had kidnapped them," Charlotte stated firmly. "You smashed me over the head, you moron. That blow could have killed me, don't you know anything about human- What are you doing?"

Her comment about idiots and kidnappers had made Cornelius light up. He fixed his hair. "You're completely right. You will only befriend me if you are very, very stupid," he murmured, all sexy again.

Charlotte looked away, too embarrassed on his behalf to watch. "Yeah, I agree. Let's not be friends. I'll be off, then!"

Cornelius frowned when she rose and strode away from him. He decided to follow.

"And you, should know," he continued. "Your blood... sings to me, my lamb. There is nothing I would rather do than kill you and drink you dry, so you should really go!"

Charlotte halted at the library doors, unsure of where they had come from. The corridors looked all the same. "Weren't you allergic to my blood-type?"

"Oh, right."

"Seriously, where are you getting this crap from?"

Cornelius sighed and fished a paperback copy of 'Twilight' out from an inside pocket of his Victorian vest. "It isn't perfect, I know... didn't have time to get glitter," he muttered, reading the blurb with a frown. Charlotte tried her best not to laugh out loud, imagining him voluntarily covering up in sparkles. Luckily, the vampire didn't notice, and if he had he would probably have mistaken the suppressed laughter for involuntarily spasms.

Realising this didn't work either, he thought for a moment. There must be some way to this young girl's heart! If Dracula and every other vampire from Rome to New Orleans could do it, so could Cornelius Reading!

"Do you like music, miss, um... What is your name?"

"Charlotte," said Charlotte.

"Beautiful," Cornelius said and introduced himself. Charlotte thought his name wasn't very vampire-ish, but didn't comment on it. "So do you like music, Charlotte?" he asked again.

"I, um, I guess I do," she said. "Why?"

"Then let me serenade you!" he exclaimed, and before Charlotte could say no thanks, I'd rather just get out of here and, you know, escape this wacko that kidnapped me earlier today, he started singing. Way. Off. Key.

"Follow me, come feel the night! Let the darkness... la-la-la ...salvation..."

For the rest of the verse Charlotte stared in wide-eyed horror. And then he modulated to falsetto.

"Cooome with meee, come seeeiiize the niiight! Now's the tiiime for some inpiraaation...!"

He must, somehow, have mistaken the stunned silence for appreciation, because he started humming what must have been the interlude, and danced, like a very intoxicated tap-dancer, waving his arms around, still holding the book. Then he got hold of an air-guitar.

Charlotte's mouth was slightly ajar. The tiny part of her brain that wasn't shocked into silence by the spectacle before her, desperately tried to figure out whether she was to laugh or cry. Her eyebrows were slowly inching towards her hairline.

He drew breath, as to start singing again, and Charlotte almost pounced on him.

"I changed my mind!" she yelled in despair.

Cornelius stopped mid-twirl and only regained his balance after flailing. "But you said-"

"What I meant is that I only like African tribal chants."

"Oh, well... as you wish," he stuttered, more confused than ever. "Maybe the dancing was a bit too much," he admitted.

Charlotte gave a nervous laugh. No amount of therapy could ever make it okay.

The vampire racked his brain. He didnt' know any African tribal chants, but there had to be something he hadn't tried yet. He decided to make a final attempt, and went down on one knee before her. Charlotte backed away before he could even ask.

"No!" she said firmly.

"Oh," he said. "Well, I sort of saw that coming."

This was strange. The girl, whose name had escaped him, was definitely not in love with him, and he had tried to make her swoon over him any way possible. Cornelius glared at the pocket book in his hands. None of the other vampires had problems like these.

"Nothing of this makes sense!" he said at last, throwing his arms up in defeat.

"Right you are," Charlotte agreed.

"You were supposed to fall in love with me!" Cornelius exclaimed. "The books, the stories, the musical - I've tried everything, but so far this has been a farce from one end to another!"

Strange as it was, Charlotte felt a prick of guilt. "Your, um, eyes are cool, though."

Her attempt at cheering him up didn't work as he only sighed heavily. "They are contacts," he said, removing a red lens to reveal brown eyes. Plain brown eyes - not golden topaz, not deliciously hot Belgian chocolate orbs. Plain brown eyes. "They really irritate my eyes."

"Oh," Charlotte said. "Well, your real eyes are nice too."

"Thanks, that's really nice." He hesitated. "What was your name again?"

"Charlotte," said Charlotte icily.

"Beautiful name," he repeated. "So there is no chance you will stay with me? You don't need to be my wife, I just want someone to talk to, the castle just gets so awfully boring."

"Certainly not," she scoffed and started walking back towards the room she woke up in. At least she hoped she was. "You better have kept my clothes!" she hollered back at the centuries older vampire, just before turning a corner.

Cornelius swallowed and thought against telling her she was going in the wrong direction. During the last thirty minutes or so he had learnt to fear this young maiden's anger. And he had presumed his wife would never want to wear those mundane clothes ever again, so he threw them away the moment she was changed into the black gothic nightgown. In other words, he was - to use a modern phrase - fucked.

Confused, he tossed his copy of Twilight aside and kipped down in one of the library's cosy chairs. Dating was so much easier in the 1600's.

Next part this way.