Category Archives: a short story by Dorlana

Short story for Halloween: Hell’s Kitchen

 This is one of my stranger short stories from some years back, and I thought it would be fun to post it for Halloween. It’s a dark, quirky, moody tale of two men who walk a fine line between good/evil, sanity/madness. 

Hell’s Kitchen

By Dorlana Vann

Part I – The Body

I watched as a guy in a dark suit dug up Beatrice Beaumont Virgil, April 5, 1965 – August 19, 1998. Funeral flowers still fresh, dirt still moist, Until we meet again her epitaph.

I stood in the shadows and dared to watch a moment longer before deciding I would just make note of his car license on my way out. If I had to say, I would guess his height as six feet and give him a generous build of medium. And I would only use this information if there were questions. Otherwise, I’d rather my secret after-hours visits stayed my secret.

As I turned to leave, the moody clouds drifted, allowing the full moon to tattle. I limped away as fast as I could, but my bad knee had started acting up again. I could only hope I was far enough to seem a ghost. Just as I began to breathe, I heard the man shout, “Hey you… stop!”

A gun fired; the bullet ricocheted off the tombstone next to me. I stopped.

“Now, get over here,” he said. “Slowly.”

As I approached the grave-site, I could see that he had dug about halfway down into the grave. He held a shovel in his right hand and a gun in his left. “You’re not going to run are you?” he asked. His appearance seemed rather ordinary— until our eyes met. I’m not easily spooked, but his keen stare alarmed the hair on the back of my neck.

“No,” I said.

He tucked the gun into his pants and then threw me the shovel. “Start digging.”

I dropped the shovel down into the thigh-deep hole and grunted as I followed it inside.

“What are you doing out here this time of night?” he said as he sat down and wiped his brow.

“I’m the groundskeeper.”

“That’s strange. I did my homework; there are no employees at night.”

“I’m not supposed to be here either.” The shovel sank into the dirt easily enough, but my muscles complained when I started shoveling it out of the hole.

“Hmm,” he said. “So, what are you doing here?”

“It’s peaceful at night.”

“So you work here… and come here to hang out? Kind of an eerie guy. But I suppose the right kind… if one has to exhume a body.”

I kept digging, and the man kept watching until the shovel caused a clunking noise.

“All right,” he said. He sat with his legs dangling over the side of the hole. “Now start digging on the sides so we can open my treasure chest.”

When I had finished my task, the man jumped in beside me. It took quite a few hard pushes before we finally had the lid all the way open.

I generally have to be content with a mental image of my residents—unless their loved ones are kind enough to leave me a picture—I couldn’t help but comb my hair with my fingers to tidy up a bit before I met her.

Her long blonde hair flowed gracefully over her petite shoulders. Rosy cheeks and ruby lips highlighted powdered fair skin. “Beautiful.”

POW! I felt the deafening discharge from my fingers to my toes. Beatrice received a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. I had stopped breathing.

“Hmm,” the grave robber said. “Grab her arms.”

“What?”

It took him aiming his weapon at me before I comprehended the instructions.

“Grab her arms. I’ll get her feet.”

Heavier than she looked, the first attempts at getting her out of the grave were grotesque. I wanted to lay her back in her bed, fold her arms back across her body… smooth her hair.

Finally, we had her in a somewhat normal position lying in the grass next to her assumed final resting place.

My dilated eyes absorbed a sudden explosion of light. When I regained my vision, I realized the man was snapping pictures.

I couldn’t withhold my curiosity a moment longer. It had fused together with fear and sympathy for Beatrice and formed a knot in the pit of my stomach. “I do realize that this is none of my business, and I really shouldn’t be asking you anything, but…”

“I don’t off chicks,” he said. His chest heaved in and out, just like mine.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s why I’m doing this. That was your question … right?”

I nodded.

He pulled a flask out of his jacket, put it to his mouth, and took a drink. Surprisingly, he handed it to me. As the unexpected bland taste of the pure water quenched my dry tongue, he spoke, “Some asshole hired me to kill a woman. This is just what I do when I’m put in the situation.”

I swallowed hard. The liquid felt like a tank going down my throat. The man standing beside me murdered people for money. And he’d said I was the creepy one … “So you’re going to pretend that Beatrice is the woman you were supposed to kill?”

“Beatrice,” he said and stared down at her. “They don’t want them at their doorstep. All I need is proof. I did a lot of obituary searching to find her. Same facial features, hair color, age.”

“What about the real girl?”

“She’s on a plane as we move our lips.”

We stood there for a moment: the atmosphere thick with the smell of death and the moonlight animating tree shadows across Beatrice’s face.

“So, why did someone want her dead?” I asked.

“Don’t know … didn’t ask.”

I nodded.

“Let’s get her back down,” he said.

The chore of replacing her didn’t take as long as excavating her had, but I hated our method. We just dropped her in.

We climbed in after and put her back in the casket. Except for the bullet hole and the dirt in her hair, she looked like she did before we disturbed her. I said my goodbyes and shut the lid.

When I looked up at the assassin, his jaw was tense and his eyes and gun were focused on me. He said, “You know, I have to kill you now.”

I stopped to inhale the earthy air, to scratch my nose, and to think about my new home with Beatrice Virgil’s address. Until we meet again, my epitaph. “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

Part II – The Revenge

John knew the old saying: Revenge is a dish best served cold. But he had to disagree. Because this time, his revenge would be cooked and served sizzling hot.

Being the cook for the Beaumont family had definitely been hell, and it seemed as if he had already worked for them an eternity. When he saw his murderer, standing there on the auction block, another saying seemed right on: What goes around comes around.

New arrivals went straight to the auction house. Both demon and H.S.L. (Human Soul Laborers) bought souls for a variety of reasons—the juicier the more they cost. John’s assassin was already up to a stellar price.

The red demon auctioneer had the whole house animated with energy. He was saying, “This soul here has no moral backbone. He killed over fifty men. He’s a thief, a cheater, and a murderer. Do I hear seventy-five….”

When John held up his auction paddle, his assassin looked him in the eyes. John remembered the last time their eyes met. The next thing he knew, he was in hell, standing exactly where this guy stood now. John had committed minor sins in comparison to murder, so buying him to eat would have been like buying a sickly, skinny cow. Not worth eating.

John had been purchased as an H.S.L. by one of the more prestigious demon families. Some souls were bought for pulling wagons, for building roads, for housewives, for…dinner. He understood how lucky he had been that he knew how to cook. His duties included buying groceries at the auction house.

He didn’t win the bid on his murderer just for pleasure; he would also make a fine meal. The Beaumonts planned to have a dinner party for twenty guests. John purchased two other plump souls as well.

When John arrived back at his kitchen, he put the three men into his tall, refrigerated cage. They needed to be fresh. Much longer out in the heat, and they would have been tough. He himself had developed skin close to the texture of leather. He hadn’t lived in Hell long enough to figure it all out, but he reckoned all the demons started out looking the way the human souls did, but in time they adapted to the atmosphere, causing their crimson, rutted skin.

Once John shut the cage, the hit man said, “Funny meeting you here.”

“So, you do remember me.”

“I never forget a face.”

“Of someone you killed or just in general?” John reached in a drawer and pulled out his knife sharpener. He wanted to give this guy the full treatment. At that moment, if he had ever wondered before, he recognized one of the major reasons for his descent. He kept deep hatred in his heart. Hmmm. He began to grind the knife across the sharpener.

His murderer said, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m about to make dinner.”

“I mean, in the hole. I never characterized you for a sinner.”

“We all have our sins. It’s the people who realize it too late that end up down here.”

At this, the hitman nodded his head. “So, what are you making?”

The two other men in the cage looked downright terrified. John looked down at his knife. No matter what kind of show he put on for his murderer, this wouldn’t be any easier than any other meal.

He inhaled and then nodded his head over to the man standing to the right of the murderer. “Leg of Sam,” he said. He glanced at the next guy, “Barbecued ribs.” He looked directly into the hit man’s eyes. “And roasted pig.”

“You don’t have to be so nasty. Just making conversation.”

“Perhaps we should save the small talk for the guests.” Meals had always just stood in the cage awaiting their fate. Once in awhile one would sing or one would cry, but never did he actually have to talk to one before he prepared it.

“For what it’s worth,” his murderer said. “I apologize. I was just doing my job.”

John thought about this for a moment. He wondered if he would have repented if given more time. If he had not been killed at that moment, would it have caused a different finale? He doubted it. Just doing my job. “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll accept your apology. I have an apology of my own.”

“I suppose you do,” the man said.

John said, “You know, I have to cook you now.”

“Yeah,” the hitman said, “I know.”

The End

Short Story: The Vampire’s New Suit + Free EBook

supernatural fairy tales bannerThe following short story inspired by The Emperor’s New Clothes,  is one of the short stories from my collection: Supernatural Fairy Tales. The Kindle eBook will be Free August 5, 2014. 

Fairy tale inspired paranormal short stories.

fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale.

These 9 Supernatural Fairy Tales are not retellings of the original fairy tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, and more, in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending.

 

The Vampire’s New Suit

by Dorlana Vann

His apartment was on the top floor of a tall apartment building. Everyone knew he was a vampire, so no one would have bothered him even if he had been on the very bottom. That was why he found it strange when he heard the knock. After opening the door, he asked, “May I help you?” but thought: magnificent—take-out delivered to my door.

“Excuse us, Mr. Smith,” said the first young man of two, “for dropping by unannounced, but you’re not listed.”

“There is a reason for this,” the vampire said.

The second young man said, “I’m Mark, and this is my partner, Trey.” He held out his hand graciously and, without a mere tremble, he shook the resident’s hand.

Intrigued, Smith sought to connect with the gentleman’s eyes. When he avoided this with skill, the vampire couldn’t help but grin, something he hadn’t done for centuries. “Perhaps you have happened upon the wrong doorstep,” he said, only because he liked them.

Trey cleared his throat and also avoided Smith’s stare, except with less sincerity. “We’re new to town; however, we do know… who you are.”

Mark said, “We believe we offer a service that may very well interest you and benefit your particular situation.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Smith said. “Is that right? Well, in that case, do come in.” It had been a long time since the vampire had guests—that were alive at any rate—and he found that he was quite enjoying the change of pace. Suddenly the mundane lifestyle that he had become accustomed to became clear: sleep, eat, and watch TV. He had been doing the latter before the interruption and used the remote to click off the early evening news. “Please, have a seat,” he told the boys. “I’m afraid I do not have any refreshments… that you would enjoy.” He couldn’t ignore the sudden sound of Trey’s heart as it pumped a refreshment of its own. He licked his lips, knowing the evening could only get better.

“Mr. Smith,” Mark said, clearly noticing the look of desire in the vampire’s eyes. “Perhaps we should come back another time?”

“Don’t be silly,” the vampire said. “There is no better time. Perhaps you should state your business.”

“Of course,” Mark said, pulling Trey down beside him as he sat on the couch. “Our company, of which Trey here is a new recruit, provides a unique service to, shall I say, our nocturnal clients. We understand and sympathize with the fact that you are a prisoner in your home from sun-up to sundown. We have developed a fabric that is solar and flame resistant but extremely lightweight. We design and produce clothing made of these exclusive materials.” Mark reached inside his bag and pulled out a black swatch. Handing it to the vampire he said, “This is the most popular with our clients, but we do offer many different colors. All we need to get started are your measurements. As you can imagine, this discreet service is not cheap. It’s company policy to receive half…” he stopped when it seemed he had lost his audience.

The vampire had walked into his modest kitchen and turned on the stove. After all, he wasn’t born yesterday. He put the little piece of fabric over the flame. Nothing happened. He was impressed, already imagining the possibilities. The thought of walking outside during the day after so many, many years was very enticing.

The young men took out their tailor tools, a small catalog, and more fabric samples. In no time, Mr. Smith had chosen a dark gray, pinstriped suit with a high collar, black gloves, and a hat complete with ear and neck coverings.

As the weeks passed, the vampire actually became fidgety. He thought about all of the wonderful things he would be able to do during the day. He could even do lunch—if he were to be so bold.

He began to amuse himself as he pondered curious things that didn’t have to do with feeding. He wouldn’t have to hide in shadows. Maybe he would see a matinée. He could walk among the mortals, saying, “Good afternoon.” He picked up the catalog the young men had left behind. He thought that next time, he might even buy khaki. He would almost be… human.

Finally, the knock came at the door.

Mark held up a black garment bag. “I have your new suit,” he said with a smile.

The vampire moved out of the way and let him enter the apartment. “Where is your friend?”

“Trey told me he had a previous engagement,” he said and then winked. “Between us, I think he’s a little afraid that you no longer need us.” After giving the vampire ample time to answer, Mark said, “You know, I am your personal tailor, and the only way to get more of these, is through me.” He put the bag on the couch and unzipped it. He pulled out a handsome, well-tailored suit.

It was just like the one in the catalog. Mr. Smith couldn’t hold back his excitement and snatched it out of Mark’s hands.

Mark winced from the sudden pain the vampire’s nails had caused. The amicable mood immediately transformed into intense as they both looked at his hand, the red blood slowly escaping its safe haven.

For the first time, the vampire caught and held Mark’s stare. It was so unexpected and so challenging that it seduced the vampire into wanting to win. It had been a long time since he had fought such a tough challenger. But of course, the mortal was no match in the end.

The vampire dropped the suit, catching Mark before he hit the carpet and carefully placed him on the couch. He grinned, his fangs hungering for the taste of such a satisfying victory. Nevertheless, he looked down at his new clothes. The young man would be out for a while, plenty of time for him to try out his new suit.

Although the vampire had acquired quite a wardrobe over the centuries, he had never felt the likes of the material that was against his body. It was soft, like silk, yet form-fitting. He wished he could see himself in a mirror. He settled with knowing he would be able to analyze the expressions on people’s faces. Even though the glare of terror so pleased him, he was anxious to see a new look in their eyes; one of awe and admiration. Complete with gloves and hat, he walked out his door.

***

“Wake up sleepy head.”

It took Mark a moment to stop his dream and to realize he was asleep. He opened his eyes, took in a panicked breath, and sat straight up. When he clearly remembered his predicament, he hastily felt his neck.

Trey stood over him with his arms crossed. “You’re clear. Even if I am a rookie, I know the rules. If he had bitten you, you wouldn’t have woken up.”

Mark nodded, feeling truly foolish. In all his years of being a slayer, he had never allowed himself to be hypnotized by one of them. “Mission complete?”

“Poof,” Trey said, his eyes wide with excitement. “You should have seen him. Oh, that’s right; you decided to take a nap. Anyway, it only took him a second to trust the suit before strolling down the sidewalk like a man about town. When I realized you weren’t right behind him, I knew what I had to do. But don’t worry; I waited, like you taught me, until he hit the mark. I was shaking so bad, but I managed to grab the pull tag before he even noticed me. But when he did see me, he knew something was rotten and went for my throat. I ducked and ran like hell. What a rush! When I was far enough away and got the nerve to turn around, I saw him still standing in the same spot with nothing on but a frown. But then a second later…” Trey had his fist up by his face. He popped his hands open wide and whispered, “pooffff.”

“Did you gather the catalog and the rest of the money?”

“Yeah, all right here.” Trey held up a white envelope. “You know, I still don’t understand why we just don’t clean them out.”

“I’m not in this for the money. I only charge what is needed to fund our operation. Otherwise, we could turn into the bloodsuckers.” Mark stood up, still feeling a little woozy. “Speaking of bloodsuckers, who’s next on our list?”

“Female,” Trey said. “What I hear is that she’s really young-looking, smart, and smokin’ hot. Hmm… I don’t know. We may have a problem, seeing as you let this repulsive ancient dude—”

“Funny,” Mark said, snatching the envelope from Trey. “Just give me the details.”

The End

Supernatural Fairy Tales

The Vampire’s New Suit is one of the short stories from my collection: Supernatural Fairy Tales. The Kindle eBook will be Free August 5, 2014. 

Fairy tale inspired paranormal short stories.

fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale.

These 9 Supernatural Fairy Tales are not retellings of the original fairy tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, and more, in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending.

Birthday EBook Giveaway

Hi Friends,

4 of my 5 eBooks will be free on  July 9th. This will give you a chance to grab a book you missed or become a first time reader.  (I have five eBooks, however, only four are eligible for giveaways at this time. )

Jaclyn's Ghost

Jaclyn’s Ghost by Dorlana Vann

Jaclyn’s Ghost by Dorlana Vann

Ghosts, Mystery, and Fashion.

Can this diva solve her own murder, or will she be stuck in limbo forever?

Supernatural Mystery, Romantic Comedy

Amazon U.S. (Kindle)

Amazon.co.uk (Kindle)

Supernatural Fairy Tales

Supernatural Fairy Tales by Dorlana Vann

Supernatural Fairy Tales by Dorlana Vann

fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale

a collection of paranormal short stories inspired by fairy tales

Silverweed by Dorlana Vann

Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale by Dorlana Vann

Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale by Dorlana Vann

In this Little Red Riding Hood-inspired supernatural fairy tale,

the roles of prey and predator become interchangeable.

  Young Adult, Dark Fantasy

Amazon US

Amazon.co.uk

The Princes of Tangleforest by Dorlana Vann

The Princes of Tangleforest by Dorlana Vann

 

The Princes of Tangleforest by Dorlana Vann

How do you change Frogs Nerds

into Princes the popular kids ?

Young Adult, fairy tale inspired

Amazon U.S. (Kindle)

Amazon.co.uk (Kindle)

Fairy Tale Short Story Inspired by “Jorinda and Joringel”

Quiet on the Nightingale

Fairy Tale inspired (Jorinda and Joringel)

short story from Dorlana’s collection Supernatural Fairy Tales

Before climbing aboard the Nightingale, a 60-foot yacht, Jake listened for a second to make sure its owner, Richard King, slept. From the cockpit, Jake climbed the stairs to the upper aft deck, and with little effort, he opened the glass door to the enclosed bridge. He had been tailing the millionaire for months and knew this was the necklace’s location.

Jake had never talked to Mr. King but had heard his thoughts about purchasing the diamond and blood-red ruby necklace for his wife. Jake had followed him to restaurants, golf courses and parties, patiently waiting until King’s mind revealed all the details, down to the code on the safe.

He pulled the ski-mask off his face before punching in the numbers. Opening the safe without incident, he reached in and brought out his prize. He didn’t stop to examine it—plenty of time for that later—but stuck it in his pocket, ready for his quick exit. He stopped again to listen and to make sure all was clear.

“Now that wasn’t very nice,” a female voice said.

Startled to a slight stumble, he twisted around to see who had caught him. The silhouette of a woman sitting at the small table, her arms and long legs crossed, came into focus. Why didn’t I hear her? He wondered.

Her voice moved gently, “That’s my necklace.”

Shit. Mrs. King. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he said, buying some time as he weighed his options; running seemed a very good choice at the moment. She might scream, but he already had the loot in his pocket. By the time Mr. King got his wits about him, he would be long gone.

Her thoughts finally sounded in his head: I wish he were here to pinch more than that ruby.

Well, there it was. It wouldn’t be the first time he had used his pretty-boy looks to get out of a situation. But when she stood up—the moonlight shining full-force on her smart face—he doubted she was the type of woman who could easily be swayed by his devilish charms. She reminded him of an elegant movie star from the 1940s like Ingrid Bergman or Lauren Bacall.

She languidly walked over to him, her heels softly echoing on the wood floor. “May I have my necklace back?” She extended her hand gracefully.

Taking a step back, he wondered why he suddenly felt so intimidated. He had known plenty of rich, beautiful women. He needed to take control of the moment and his nerves. In the darkness, the burglar and the wealthy woman stared at each other for a mere second before Jake grabbed her bare shoulders and kissed her hard on the lips. Unexpected fire exploded between them, and he pulled her closer until he embraced her fully. He could feel her hands on his waist, moving slowly down the front of his pants until—

Jake gently pushed her away and had to smile, but he didn’t let go of her arm. He brought her hand up, revealing the necklace.

She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

He licked his lips tasting the memory of her kiss, her thoughts letting him know she wished she could see all of him. “The Country Club tomorrow night,” he said as he snatched the necklace, gave her a slight nod and left, before he couldn’t pull himself away.

Two Weeks Later

Like some bad movie cliché, he found the note she had left on her pillow:

Dear Jake,

I’m afraid my husband has decided to leave this morning. I couldn’t bear to tell you. Please forgive me. In another lifetime perhaps.

Love,

Jezze

Jake crumbled up the letter wondering how in the hell he’d missed it. Maybe she just pushed it out of her mind because it was too painful.

Love Jezze, she had written.

“Shit,” he said. “I do.” He suddenly found himself playing what if: What if I would have told her I loved her? Would she have stayed? Would she leave her rich husband for a crook? Would she come back with me now if I caught the yacht before it hit open water?

Regret swept over him as he put on his pants, because he had known for a week that she had feelings for him, yet he had said nothing. Let on nothing. Just another stolen treasure. At least that was what he had told himself before that morning. Now the only thing he thought was that he had to get her back.

His Jag hit the highway at sixty-five miles an hour, the windows down, and the air thick with morning. Their hotel/love nest was only a few miles away from the bay, but he couldn’t be sure what time she had actually left his bed. He had fallen asleep some time after midnight. He looked down to see the time, realizing his watch wasn’t in its usual place on his wrist. Must have left it on the nightstand.

As Jake jumped out of the car, he knew he had no idea what he would do if King tried to stop him. He listened as he ran, listened to see if he heard Jezze saying, I’ll miss him so much!

Jake ran up the steps that lead to the ramp and then to the spot where the yacht had been docked. When he realized he was too late, that it was gone, he cursed himself and stomped the pier. Searching his mind for conversations and memories of her thoughts, he plopped down on the steps. Did she say where she lived?

Soon, he decided to leave, promising himself that he would not rest until he found her. He would rummage minds for the slight mention of Mrs. Jezze King. As he stood, someone else’s thoughts blurted inside his head. At first he tried to ignore them, not wanting to listen to another person’s problems. But then, he heard something he just couldn’t ignore…

***

Jezze sat at her vanity brushing her hair as she looked at the newly acquired necklace. She sighed. It entranced her as it sparkled in the glistening sun that streamed in through the porthole. Knowing how difficult it would be to part with, it certainly hadn’t been easy to obtain, she had considered keeping it. So exquisite.

She wiped new tears from her swollen eyes. No, the necklace would only remind her of him. Her buyer had already offered a beautiful price, so she would go on as planned. Maybe she would set sail after the transaction and take a much-needed trip.

She had lived on her yacht for over a year, loving the open water, the smell of the sea and the freedom to travel whenever she became restless. If Richard King had not docked his yacht in the same water as hers, her life would be so less complicated. If she had gone on home that night when she heard Jake coming after her necklace, things would have been so less complicated. If she would have just let him take the necklace without trying to seduce it out of him…

She doubted Jake even knew others like him existed, others who had superior control over their gift. She had learned to listen for other mind-readers years before and trained herself to stop her own thoughts at the first sign.

She had been getting ready to go home that night, when she had heard him. Mistaking her for Mrs. King had just been a crazy break; there was a real Mrs. King, somewhere, but it wasn’t her. It had been kind of fun pretending to be the adulteress, instead of the other woman.

Jezze unlatched the necklace from around her neck and put it back in its black box. Stop crying Jezze. This is just how it has to be. She never expected to fall in love with Jake for real. Over the past two weeks she had searched for signs of mutual admiration but found nothing.

“I think you have something that belongs to me.”

She held her breath and swung her attention to the familiar voice. Richard King stood at her door. Lost in her own thoughts Jezze must have missed his. “Sweetheart,” she sang. “I thought you left.” She stood up cautiously. She could certainly read his thoughts now…

Mr. King was a fairly tall man, but the way he stood there, his chest heaving in and out and his teeth clenched, he appeared monstrous as he growled, “Did I not treat you well? Did I not give you enough money for your services?  You were good, but not fifty-thousand dollars good.”

She put her hair behind her ears, feeling the tremor of her hands. “Why are you so upset, handsome? What happened?”

“Don’t play games with me. Give back my necklace, and I’ll be on my way. I don’t want the publicity for being with a woman like you any more than you want jail time.”

“I didn’t steal your necklace. Just leave before I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.”

“You bitch!” He raced toward her.

Before Jezze knew what had happened, she was staring up at the ceiling, King’s handprint-sting across her face. He stood over her and drew back his fist.

She tightened her body for the blow, when King suddenly flew across the room and landed on her vanity with a crash. She sat up, tears blurring her view. Jake stood over Richard, daring him to move. They all noticed the necklace at the same time, out of the box and on the floor.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake told King. “By the looks of you, I don’t think fifty grand is payment enough.”

King sat up, still eyeing his necklace.

Jake continued, “Just collect your insurance, lick your wounded ego, and you’ll be fine. Now get the hell out of here.”

Jezze chose to ignore King’s thoughts of justice and revenge as he walked out the door. She also decided not to focus on what Jake must have thought of her. “Thank you,” she said to him, unable to look him in the eyes. “How did you know where to find me?”

“After I found the Dear John, I came looking for you. I heard King coming after you, and then I heard you thinking. I heard everything… I know everything.”

“Just take it; I don’t want it.”

“I’d rather have you,” he said. “The only thing I heard that matters to me is that you love me.”

She found his sincere stare and listened to the thoughts he fed her. That’s why I was looking for you. To tell you, I love you.

She smiled and jumped into his arms, giving him tiny kisses all over his face until their lips met. After a silent conversation, they separated and began removing their clothes.

“Hey,” Jake said, looking on the floor at the mess from the vanity. “Is that my watch?”

The End

Supernatural Fairy Tales

Supernatural Fairy Tales by Dorlana Vann

Supernatural Fairy Tales eBook will be free May 30 – June 1, 2014.

Fairy tale inspired paranormal short stories.

fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale.

These 9 Supernatural Fairy Tales are not retellings of the original fairy tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, and more, in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending.

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