A Night for Questions and Answers
By T. A. Staver
Copyright 2012 T. A. Staver
Cover Art by Julie Staver Copyright 2012
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A Night for Questions and Answers


I had just settled in for an evening of reading and drinking a few beers. The new Stephen King and Leinenkugel; a match made in heaven. The December wind howled outside the window. Is there anything better than being warm and comfortable on a cold winter night?
Someone knocked at the front door. Is there anything worse than your comfortable evening being interrupted?
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I muttered as the pounding continued. “Sheesh, give me a minute to get there.”
I unlocked and opened the door. There appeared to be a very large snowman standing on my stoop. It shook its head and revealed a familiar face.
“Chuck!” I said. It was my former kidnapper and newly-made vampire acquaintance. I hoped he hadn’t changed his mind about drinking my blood.
“What are you doing out on a night like this? You could catch pneumonia in this weather.” I stopped. “Um, being undead, maybe you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Well, are you going to invite me in, or are we going to talk with your door wide open?” he asked.
“Sure, sure,” I said.
“No, you have to invite me in. I can’t come across your threshold without an invitation,” he said.
“Wow, really? I thought that was just some crap that they put in movies.” I was actually surprised by this. “How does it work? Is there an invisible barrier or something?” I asked.
“I’m not sure how it works. I will myself forward, but nothing happens. My body just knows that I haven’t been invited inside. This is the first time it’s actually happened to me. I’ve been reading all sorts of stuff on the internet about being a vampire, and I came across the invitation-to-enter theory. I didn’t really expect it to be true. So, are you going to invite me in or not?”
“Oh yeah, um, I, Rodger, invite you, Chuck, into my house. Will that…” I was cut off as he pushed past me into the house.
“About time; my new coat was getting all wet from the snow,” Chuck grumbled as he looked around my living room. His shoes were forming a puddle on my carpet. I was about to mention that fact, but I remembered how touchy he could be, so I held my tongue.
“Do you get cold?” I asked. I’m pretty new to this having-a-vampire-for-an-acquaintance thing, so I find myself asking a lot of questions.
“No, the cold doesn’t affect me at all,” he said with a smile.
“Then why do you have a coat?” I asked.
“I…” Chuck stopped in mid sentence and frowned. “You know, I don’t know. It must be a habit. Huh, what do you know, I never even gave that a thought.” He slowly nodded his head. “For the time being, I think I’ll continue to wear the appropriate clothing for whatever season it happens to be. Wouldn’t want anyone questioning why I’m not dressed right.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I said. “Do you think there are people out there who would see you for what you really are? I didn’t when you kidnapped me. I thought you were some kind of psycho, babbling about drinking my blood. Until I saw your teeth, that is.”
Chuck started to move about my living-room as he thought about my question. His eyes took in the entire room, but he had a distracted look on his face. I didn’t think he was seeing the bric-a-brac that he picked up, handled, and put back down. Hopefully he didn’t see all of the dust. My mother would have a fit if she saw it. But being a bachelor, dusting is quite low on my list of things to do.
“You wouldn’t think that there are people who believe in vampires,” he said. “Hell, I didn’t believe in them until that horse’s ass of a master I have made me one. But there are a lot of people out there who read The National Enquirer, know what I mean? So there must be somebody out there who believes.”
Chuck continued to prowl my room. For a very large man, he moved with surprising grace. He reminded me of a cat I had once owned; always prowling, always checking things out. The thought made me smile.
“What are you grinning about?” Chuck asked me. I stopped smiling: he was faced away from me and couldn’t see my face.
“I was thinking about how you reminded me of a cat I used to have. Um, how did you do that?” I asked.
He turned, and smiled at me. “A cat, huh? Not a bad comparison. Cat’s are predators, you know.”
I noticed that he avoided answering my question. But again, being new to the vampire world, I didn’t want to push my luck with him. I would try to remember to ask him again sometime in the future.
Chuck glided across the room and sat in my recliner. “Let’s talk,” he said. Don’t think I didn’t notice he took the most comfortable chair in the room.
“Sure, what should we talk about?” I asked as I sat down.
“Let’s talk about the soul, or the lack thereof. What are your ideas concerning that?” Chuck looked at me with a very unsettling intenseness. I would have to be careful here. I didn’t know Chuck well enough to make light of something he obviously cared deeply about. I was starting to regret telling Chuck that I would be available to talk to him. If I aggravated him, would he kill me? After all, he is a vampire.
“Well, I assume you’re talking about your soul. Is that correct?” I asked. Chuck nodded, his eyes fixed on mine. “I also assume you’re wondering if you still have one.” He nodded again.
“Well, I did start looking up a few things on the internet after we, uh, met each other.”
Chuck laughed out loud. “You mean the night I kidnapped you!” His smile was quite wide. He can be a jerk.
“Yeah, that night. Anyway, I looked a few things up. And I have to say, I think you probably still have a soul.”
Chuck looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t get that from the reading I did.”
“Well, the internet resources I accessed all agreed that the soul is immortal, even when the soul is separated from the body at death. You did die in the…process, didn’t you?”
Chuck grunted. “Oh yeah, I died.”
“Well, I’m no theological scholar, but it looks like you still have a soul. The next question would be: where is that soul at? My faith tells me that God has it, just as he keeps all souls until Judgment Day.” I looked at Chuck. “You aren’t going to kill me if I tick you off, are you?”
“Yes, I will.”
“WHAT?’
“Ha, just kidding. You should see your face! Sorry, what were you saying?” Did I mention Chuck can be a jerk?
I paused to gather my thoughts. “If you still have a soul that means it still needs to be judged. Your actions from before your…vampirism and your actions after will be looked at on the final day. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, I see how you can look at it that way,” Chuck said. “What about not dying. Well, not dying in the sense it usually means. Here I am, sitting in your chair, talking to you, expressing ideas. My brain appears to work just as before. But my body doesn’t work like before. My heart doesn’t beat. My lungs only pull in enough air to talk. How does that jibe with your theory?”
I got up and started to slowly pace around my living room. This was turning into an interesting discussion. And the chair I was using wasn’t very comfortable. Chuck had that one.
“Over the years, vampires have been associated with demons, so I think that it’s due to some demonic action or other form of magic.” I looked him in the eye. “Trafficking with demons won’t go well with your potential soul judgment, by the way.” I paused with another thought. “An incorruptible body is more proof of black magic. The fact that you are currently sporting an incorruptible body is most likely a grievous sin.”
Chuck looked glum. “I had the same thought.” He looked up at me. “I didn’t go out of my way to become a vampire. It just sort of happened.”
“Just how did that happen?” I asked. “You’ve mentioned your master a couple of times, and I get the idea you don’t like him.”
“No, I don’t. The jerk made me into a vampire then BAM takes off without telling me anything I need to know to survive. Would twenty or thirty minutes of his time have been too much?
“Before I was turned into a vampire, I was a salesman. I sold all kinds of things. Shoes, ball-bearings, books; you name it, I’ve probably sold it. I’ve never had a problem talking to strangers. Cold calls were a specialty of mine. One night I’m on the road, staying at a motel in Dubuque, IA and I strike up a conversation with this nerdy guy in the bar. Imagine Wally Cox. That’s what the guy looked like. You look perplexed. Just Google him when we’re done tonight; you’ll see what I mean.
“Now that I think back, he didn’t drink anything that night; just had a glass in front of him. Should have been a red flag, I guess. He told me his name was Abarran.
“We talked about the weather, sports, basically shot the crap for a while. Eventually, as I’m drinking whiskey and he’s drinking nothing, I start to get drunk and he stays sober. He even bought me a couple of drinks.
“That was when he started asking if I had thought about my place in the world. How I looked at the rest of humanity. Did I ever feel superior to others? Well, you may not have noticed, but I tend to be a type-A personality.”
I kept a straight face: I feared for my life.
“So yeah, I did think I was pretty okay. And I always thought I could outsell anyone, anywhere.” Chuck had a smug look on his face, but as he paused, it passed into a frown. “That guy sure took me for a sucker. Who outsold whom?” he muttered to himself. Then he shook himself.
“Anyway, with all of the drink and ego-boosting words, pretty soon he had me up and out of the bar. I staggered a little, but Abarran caught me by the arm and held me up straight. That should have been another warning; I outweighed him by about three hundred pounds.
“As soon as we cleared the outside lights at the side of the building, he grabbed me and lifted me around the corner. That shocked the crap out of me. No one has done that to me since I was a kid. That sobered me up and scared me.
“He looked me right in the eye, and told me he was doing me the biggest favor in my puny little life: giving me immortality. I had never been more scared in my life. I tried to push my way up, but he just shoved me back down with one hand. And just like that, he was biting my neck, drinking my blood. I tried to get away, but as my blood was taken, I grew weaker and weaker. Then it was darkness, nothingness.”
“Sometime after that I…came to is the best way to describe it. I was sucking on Abarran’s wrist, drinking his blood. And it was the best thing I had ever tasted. Ever. I think I would have drained him dry if he hadn’t pushed me off of his wrist.
“So there I was, lying in a swoon, in the shadows outside the back door of a motel bar. My body is shutting down, releasing bodily fluids. I’m looking at this nerdy guy and seeing him as I’ve never seen anything before. Like going from a regular TV to H.D., but even more pronounced. I can see everything in the dark. I was a little overwhelmed.
“Just then, Abarran cocked his head like someone was talking to him. He looked at me and said, ‘Sorry, I must leave’, and he disappeared, like he blinked out of existence. But I saw the littlest movement at the edge of my vision. So I know he was just moving so fast that he only seemed to disappear.
“For the rest of that evening I wandered around looking at, listening to, and feeling things as never before. And I had not, at least not with that clarity. With the neck-biting and the blood drinking, I figured I was officially a vampire. And when the dawn came, I also figured I had better get my fat butt out of the coming sunlight.
“Over the next few nights, I worked out some of the things I needed to do. I’ve found that I don’t have to drink blood every night, at least if it comes from a living creature. Those bags of blood I stole from the Red Cross will only hold me for a night. So far I’ve only drunk from animals that I catch, or the occasional cow. I haven’t drunk blood directly from a human, yet.” Chuck suddenly smiled. “I almost got you that night we met.” I’m sure my return smile was wan.
“So here I am Rodger. I’m a vampire, but not entirely by choice. For some strange reason I’m still concerned about my soul. I drink the blood of animals, but not humans. Does that make me a wussy vampire, or a prudent being, concerned with the after-life?”
How to answer? I didn’t know about his soul. Would it be better to recommend he see a minister? Could a priest do anything for him? For that matter, could he even get close to a priest? Or was he doomed to eternal damnation?
“I’m afraid I don’t know, Chuck.” I said. “My guess is that you’re going to have to work out the answers yourself, with the help of someone higher up the theological ladder than I am. I hope this doesn’t sound like a cop out; I just don’t want to lead you into a wrong decision. The fact that you are worried and thinking about it sounds like a step in the right direction.”
His pursed lips and squinted eyes didn’t fill me with confidence.
“Well!” Chuck clapped his hands together and stood in one very fast motion that made me jump. “Like I said that first night we met: it’s good to talk to someone, to bounce ideas off of someone else. But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll be shoving off.”
I felt bad, as if Chuck had come to me for advice and I had let him down. But another thought pushed into my mind: was Chuck an evil being? Was consorting with him putting my soul at risk? Or was I doing the right thing by helping him come to terms with his existence? I had read the cliché, His mind swam with confusion in any number of books, but it wasn’t until that instant that I understand it.
Chuck was putting his coat on as he headed towards the door. “Say Chuck, I’m still open to more talking, if you’re interested,” I said. I would work out my own concerns, hopefully before I talked to him again.
“You know, I think I’ll take you up on that.” Chuck was smiling again. I walked him to the door. I had lots of questions for him, but they would have to wait. It was going to take me a few days to digest what we had talked about tonight.
“Good night, Chuck. Give me a call next time and I can have something ready for when you get here.”
“Like what, a bottle of blood?” Chuck grinned as he pulled my leg.
“Okay, that was dumb.”
“Goodbye, Rodger, until next time.”
I watched Chuck as he left, to see which way he went. As he headed down the street with his unbuttoned coat flapping around him like a set of wings, he disappeared. It seemed he had been practicing.
Shaking my head, I moved toward my chair. The Stephen King was most likely done for the night, but I would definitely have a couple of Leinenkugels as I sorted out our conversation in my mind.
I sank into my chair, only to leap back up. The cushions were soaking wet from Chuck’s melting snow. Have I mentioned that Chuck can be a jerk?

About the author:

T. A. Staver is from Illinois, is currently a part-time writer, and has so far not met a real vampire. But the family cat is considered evil by his children.

Other Smashwords books by T. A. Staver:
A Night Meeting  (free)
The Encounter  (free)
To contact T. A. Staver:
Facebook
T.A.Staver@hotmail.com
My Website: Writing for Fun