Blood Red Rhapsody

           



         Blood Red Rhapsody, F Sharp, no 66

"Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me." -U2





My mom told me that wearing red "is a symbol of wickedness and evil," and even forbade the color in my own wardrobe. But red has been my favorite color and I wear my favorite red jacket in the fall, alongside my lucky class ring which was my grandfather Louis's until he died when I was only 2 years old. I'd only give it up on Sundays at church, since I was a son of a well-respected minister/sheriff and a pious yet beautiful housewife. Other days, it's a red party for me.

Now, I wondered if wearing red on the fateful day of my life was such a good idea. I think it now means mystery and desire.

It all started back in mid-September when my Mom learned that Grandma Vivian needed some company and thought that it would be a great idea if I spent the weekend with her.

There were 2 objections I planned to use.

         1. I planned to hang out with my friends Valerie and Kevin at Shelley's Diner and cruise over to Port Walker for the Harvest Festival

         2. Grandma was a little on the eccentric side for my taste, even though we had some things in common.

But Mom wasn't going to hear me out, thinking my friends were "bad influences" and she insisted that family should know each other better. "Besides, Grandma would want you with her," she pointed out.

So, like a dutiful Christian son, I put on some clean clothes, packed an overnight bag, and made my way to Grandma's, a basket of Mom's famous sweets in hand and my red jacket on me.

"There went my weekend," I muttered bitterly as I made my way down Reed Avenue. There was a certain eclectic and odd current of energy in the air as I noticed that autumn was in full swing in the town of Riverlake, from the gold-dressed leaves of the oak trees lined up on the block to the array of pumpkins on Mrs. Walt's Cape Cod-style house.

"Hello. You heading somewhere?" a guy's voice purrs from out of nowhere.

"OH!!!" I exclaimed as I whirled around to see the most magnificent creature. He was dressed like a biker but not like the obese old-guy types. This one screamed Apollo-type, from his light-espresso brown skin and his silvery-green eyes (they had a bit of red in them) to his jet black hair cut short and his charismatic smile.

My mom's voice rang in my mind. "Vincent Turnquist, ignore this young man! He is nothing but trouble and you have a name to fulfill." My feet, however, would not cooperate.

I should have just kept walking and put him out of my mind.

I should have just turned back and went home as fast as I could.

But I didn't. Instead I let out a big lemon-meringue-pie smile. "Hi, can I help you?' I asked. "My name's Vincent Turnquist. And you are?" I added, extending my hand.

He grinned wolfishly. "Stefan Weir," he said, shaking my hand. His handshake, as warm and inviting as it was, felt a bit of iciness. "What's an innocent kid like you walking all alone?"

"I was on my way to spend the weekend at my grandmother's house. She lives on Eastport Street. I have to hurry before the streetlights come on at 6pm," I said hurriedly. I needed to get going too, before one of Dad's suck-ups came and escorted me home; but there as a little something about him that wanted me to stay,

"I can give you a ride if you like," Stefan offered, nodding at his sleek, midnight black Camaro. "You have a long way to go."

That was my cue to scram. "I can't, you see." I said, shaking my head no. "Dad's one of the sheriff's deputies here and almost everyone in this town knows him. Should one of them see me here with you instead making my way to Grandma's; I'll be grounded for life." It was true too. I had a family name to keep clean, and I couldn't screw it up by riding with a complete stranger, as seductive as he was.

I'd never been taken by anyone so mysterious and dark. I was a good egg and had many friends who were like me; save Valerie and Kevin (they smoked occasionally, but weren't allowed in the house). Plus I was a virgin (Ironic for a sixteen year old, huh?) and was waiting for the right one to come along.

Stefan was saddened. "Aww, here I was trying to be friendly," he said in disappointment, though he had a glint in his eyes. "You sure?"

As much I wanted to hang out with him, I knew I had to get going. It was 15 minutes until 6pm, and I had only 10 minutes of walking left. "Uh-huh," I said.

He took my hand, and kissed it once. "Don't worry, you'll be seeing me soon enough," he said. He headed to his car, gunned the motor and headed off into the night.

It was 3 minutes until I finally arrived. If Grandma thought I was lost in thought or had a secret too shocking to reveal to anyone, she didn't let on. She merely smiled as she accepted the goodies and told me to wash up for dinner. Lasagna and her famous chocolate cheesecake. As I made my way to the bathroom, I thought I heard an animal cry outside. At first I thought it was a dog howling, bit the howl sounded human as it echoed into the orange moonlight.

I had a strange feeling I haven't heard the last of Stefan yet.

And unfortunately I was right. Because I was dead the moment I was asleep and I felt the sharp sting of teeth.