Vampires Suck!

 

vampire Nick

Although Vampires exist in many forms, a Child Vampire is always creepy. / Photo by KidZond.

 

“A story about vampires? Oh Jon, come on! Everyone’s writing about vampires! Vampires suck!” my brother said to me.

“Actually they are writing about Zombies.” I said in a rather meek come back.

However, with my brother’s assessment of my future novel, he raised the specter of my Father’s Ghost. It’s a dumb idea, Jay is right, everything there is to say about vampires has been written. What could you possibly add to the genre?

Suddenly it was pointless to move forward with my novel. So, being this conversation happened in June of 2017, the opening pages of my novel, all 22,000 words, sat on my laptop, collecting electric dust, and I moved on to other projects, other ideas. Original Ideas. Because, well, you need to be Original right? Right?

Nothing is Original. Not really.

So, my Father’s Ghost won again. I shelved the story and went on to other projects. Yet I kept thinking about my vampire story. In my mind I was adding little details, dropping plotlines, adding others. Thinking on it the whole time I was working on ignoring it and being ‘original’. Yet, nothing is original. Not really. Most stories are based off of other stories. Even Dracula was based on a Balkan Legend and a popular story from Stoker’s time, The Vamprye. 

Most of us believe a great story is original, but when asked, the Author often cites one or more sources as their inspiration. Either a story they had read, heard about, or one, recounted to them. Usually the story is a mishmash of previously known stories, with their own spin on it. Grimm’s Fairytales comes to mind. Shakespeare was well-known for taking popular legends and turning them into plays.

The concept of having to be original is, honestly, a little over the top. Yet, some storylines, genres, can beat the proverbial horse to death. Vampires have been mostly played out.

I accepted the fate of my novel, it would sit on the electronic shelf forever, never to be printed out and have me cuss over the editing process. The story was doomed.

Inspiration comes to you in the strangest ways.

My life has taken a few twists and turns since I had that conversation with my brother. I had written a few short stories, polished a couple of others, was in the market for Writing Competitions to get my name out. Yet I had to deal with a busy social year in 2017 and the discovery of my youngest daughters Autism.

During all this I changed jobs. Going from moving semi-tractor trailers in and out of docks for a Gum Factory, to doing the same at a Potato Chip factory.

I seem to be attracted to snacks companies.

And it was at my new job, that I saw something that gave me inspiration. Next to the Potato Chip factory is a Metal Work Shop. The shop causes some consternation with me and my colleagues. Huge metal plates, and small bits of metal litter the drive next to ours. Both plants share a common driveway. We have to be careful not to run over a metal scrap or drive into a huge steel beam. Yet the Metal Work Shop made me think…

“You know, if the zombie apocalypse happens, I would come here to outfit myself. You could make any sort of weapon out of this scrap metal.”

And of course there were potatoes to eat. And a nice National Guard Armory nearby. What a great place to hide out when the poop hits the rotating oscillator…

…or a great place for two child vampires to hang out.

You see, my story isn’t original. But it’s mine. It is my take on vampires. It may follow certain guidelines, certain rules of a storyline, but it’s mine. And that is where I vanquished my brother’s advice and my Father’s Ghost this time. Because while vampire stories have been played out. Glitter & Sparkles, Day-walkers, Assassins of Werewolves and even Diaries. No one has read mine. No one has seen what I have to offer. So, with a new angle, a fresh view, a great idea for a location, I wrote 4500 words of my tale last night. More to write tonight. And the next day, and the days to follow till I have the tale told.

Now, it may end up on the electronic bookshelf. It may die during the editing process, or suffer a worse fate. Sitting on the Cyber-Bookshelf without any takers.

But it will be done. I will have told my tale.

Because I have my story to tell, my version of vampires. Characters for you to explore, to laugh with, cry with, hate and love. It may revolve around vampires, but it will be the characters that drive the story.

While vampire tales are not original, my take will be ‘original’.

See, I let self-doubt and the fear of being lost in the crowd stop me from writing my novel. I was held back because I feared my brother was right, that my Father’s Ghost was right. But they weren’t.

Each of us, whether you are a published author, or a wannabe like myself, brings our own unique perspective to our tales. So, don’t be afraid to write what has already been written. Some of the best novels, best movies, even best t.v. shows are new versions of the same tired genre.

It’s not the lipstick on the pig that matters, it’s the shade of lipstick that matters.

 

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Monsters Under The Bed.

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One way to defeat the Monsters under the Bed is to sleep on the couch with some good friends and a book. / Photos by KidZond.

By Js Kendrick

 

When I wrote my tagline for my blog I  had a very specific incident in mind. Chasing monsters from under the bed since 1991 has meaning to me. For one, I became a father for the first time in 1991. When that happened, monsters came with the duties of being a parent.

The first monsters were mine, those that every new parent has, am I good enough? Do I know what in the heck I am doing. What if I break her? What if she stops…

Yeah, there are a lot of fears when you become a parent. You quickly learn that you have very little control over most of your fears. Dealing with those fears becomes your priority. You learn to manage those you have some semblance of control over, and to let those you don’t have any control over, to wander the recesses of the back of your mind. Hoping they stay there.

As children get older, they develop their own fears. Some are practical fears. Like those of strangers, going to the doctor, the first day of school. Then of course there are the unfounded fears. Like the time Werewolves and Vampires began lurking around my eldest two daughters bedroom.

I’m not to sure how werewolves and vampires got into our house. Could have been from a friend, or one of their older cousins. Yet they arrived and I was asked repeatedly about them. Telling my children, one 6 the other 4, that werewolves and vampires do not exist and that people created those legends for entertainment… those facts did not work. So thus began the Summer of the Monsters. What a great movie title that would make.

One night, around 11 p.m., the light came on in their room. I heard the noise of soft crying and got up to see what was the matter. Both girls were hugging their knees, blankets pulled up tight in their respective twin beds, staring at the bedroom window in fear.

I suddenly became afraid myself. Did someone try to get in? Was there some intruder lurking outside waiting for a opportunity to enter their window? My fear seized me. One of my fears hidden in the recess of my mind had found a door and ran up front to give me a scare. Then rationality came back. The intruder would either have to have a nice step-ladder or be 8 feet tall. Yet I peeked out the window. The backdoor porch light, which was always on, showed me that no one was around. I took a deep breath and looked at my frighten daughters faces.

“What’s going on?” I asked. They pointed to the window. My fear jumped up and down waving a red flag.

“What if a werewolf comes through the window?” I was asked. My fear dropped his flag and with his head hung low, walked back to the recess of my mind.

“It’s not their season, they’re down south this time of year.” I said. I had tried the ‘they don’t exist’ shtick for a good month or so, tried to use logic, explain myths, everything I could think of. Now moved on to ‘kid logic’ that I hoped would work. So far it had.

“Vampires?” was the next inquiry. I gave the same answer. Then tucked them back into bed and turned the light off. Making sure the nightlight was working. They settled down and I, to help my own fear, went out back for a walk around to make sure there wasn’t any vampires lurking about. The moon wasn’t full so I figured I was safe with werewolves. I also didn’t find any signs that anyone passed through our yard either.

Then I was awaken again, the light on again, now sobbing. I was a tad irate. Okay, actually I was mad to be awaken again by monsters. So I walked in and saw them now sitting on their beds sobbing.

“What now?” I said in a terse tone.

What followed was a sobbing mess of a tale about vampires and werewolves in their bedroom, hiding in the closet. Possibly playing with their toys, not sure. I was torn between laughing and yelling at them. I opted for some bizarre story to end this.

“There aren’t any vampires and werewolves in your bedroom, it’s your imagination.” I hesitated on ‘they don’t exist’ because that had failed miserably before, so I improvised.

“Listen, the werewolves are dead. They all got rabies and died, the vampires were so upset they staked themselves. So there are not in your room or outside the window, they are all dead, happened many years ago.” I said looking at them.

They stopped crying immediately and looked at me. Two sets of bright blue tear filled eyes, staring at their father. They had calmed down immediately, their seriously little faces now staring at me. They had totally believed my story.

Crap.

“Really? They’re dead? All of them?” I was asked. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, should have told you before. Happened a few years back. So you have nothing to fear.” I said doing my best to hold this tale together.

“Oh, um, can you leave the light on?” I was asked.

“Okay, but you need to go to sleep, no playing, okay?” I said. And the miracle happened. The monsters under the bed, those in the closet, or outside the window, were gone. Dad and vanquished them with a fantastic fable. Yet it eased their minds.

Was this the best way to handle it? I am sure there are therapists and psychologist that would tell you no, never lie to your children. Just make them understand that such creatures do not exist. So probably not. Yet the vampires remained staked, the werewolves without rabies shots, paid the ultimate price. And two little girls went to sleep and never worried about those monsters again. Psychology be damned.

They of course would find other monsters. But then again, don’t we all?