Vampire Manifesto
Page 4
Chapter 4
The joy of painting…
When we got home, I just went straight to my room. Aiden was making Abigail play test his Little Big Planet level he created again. She pleaded with me with sympathetic eyes to save her, to somehow intervene, but I just shook my head. I had other plans on my mind.
I wanted to sleep, try to get a little bit of rest before the nights outing, but I decided against it. I knew as soon as I closed my eyes that I would have that crazy dream again. The dream I could barely remember other than just a few insane instances. I had planned on going to the library, check out some books on deciphering dreams, but I never did.
I always planned on doing a lot of things that I never do.
I wanted to talk to Mom. Get her advice about how I should approach this whole Ethan thing. Unlike most teens, my Mom and I were extremely close. We talked about everything. She never judged. She never yelled. One of the best things about her was that she knew when to be Mom and when to let go and let me make my own mistakes. Even when she was right, she never once said I told you so.
I tried calling her cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t bother to leave a message. I don’t leave messages. I tried Dads cell, but his just rang a couple of times then went to voicemail. I guess I’ll try them again later tonight. Well, maybe not later tonight, considering I’ll probably be just a little wasted.
Tomorrow then.
I dug in the back of my closet, shifting through the mass of clothes I’d acquired until I found my easel and paint supplies. I was in the mood to paint, to put my feelings onto a canvas for the entire world to see. My brother had his comics and plays his video games, Dad works on The Rolling Stone, while Mom likes to watch boxing and I, well, I paint.
That’s what I do to decompress. I was pretty good at it. Art was something I picked up when I was young. Aiden was always into to comics as a kid, that’s how he learned how to read. We used to draw together, make our own comic books and stuff. He would write them and I would draw them out. That was our thing. Then he found out what a PlayStation was and I discovered oil paint.
People used to compliment my talent, but it was always just a recreational thing to me and today I was in the mood to be recreational.
I plugged my iPod into the speaker system and started to blast Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin, throwing on my favorite worn, black leather jacket. It was what I always painted in.
I don’t know what made me do it, choose the subject matter that I did. In the beginning, I didn’t even know what it was I painting. It was more or less me just putting oil to canvas, yet as I continued, I slipped into that zone that I get into when things just perfectly click. I’m just there doing what I do, no longer checking the time to see how long I’ve been at it, but rather, just doing what needs to be done. That’s when I finally realized what it was I was painting.
It was the Vampire from my dream. The one that’s been chasing me every night for the past thirty days nonstop. I’m not sure why I chose him as my muse. Honestly, this was the first time I’d ever gotten a clear and defining look at him. I could never really remember his face upon waking, even though he haunted my every move at night. There he was, in all his wicked glory, staring at me with those lifeless glowing orbs.
I continued to paint, going into detail now, the forest behind him, the dark clouds swirled together just moments before the lightning struck his body. I poured my soul into it, oblivious to the outside world around me, only focusing on the task at hand. I tried to get every detail I remembered into the painting, every little snapshot that had escaped me before.
“Wow, that’s really amazing.” Abigail’s voice made me jump. I almost dropped the paintbrush I had been using on the carpet.
I exhaled, catching my breath. “Jesus girl, you scared me the shit out of me.”
“Sorry Madison, I thought you knew I was here.” She replied sincerely.
“Nah, I just...when I paint, I kinda just get into this, I don’t know, zone I guess. I just block out the world and nothing else exists. How long have you been standing there?”
“Few minutes.” Abigail crossed her arms coming forwards. “It’s beautiful.” She admitted. “Who is he?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know really.” I admitted. “Just some guy, I guess.”
I hadn’t told anyone about my dreams. Not even Aiden. I’m not really a confessional type person, plus, my dreams were intimate, personal. They were mine; they belonged to me and only me. Some things you just don’t really want to share with other people. Some things are just yours and yours alone to do with as you see fit.
“Well, whoever he is, he’s cute.” Abigail admitted.
“Abby, you think everybody is cute.” I responded.
“Uh, no not really. Only the ones that are.” She exclaimed. “You still coming with us to The Dave’s?”
“Yeah, but I thought that wasn’t till later.”
“Madison, it is later. It’s already ten p.m.” Abigail headed towards the door. “Aiden wants to be there before eleven.”
Abigail disappeared around the corner. I must have really zoned out, because we got home around two in the afternoon. I took a step back and really looked at the painting, at the amazing amount of detail I had poured into it. I had lost myself inside my mind again. I do that sometimes, getting so wrapped up in artistic outlets that hours pass like minutes to me.
I simply stared at the canvas, at the Vampire who has been trying to kill me in my sleep while he stared back.
It didn’t take me long to get ready. I had to shower of course, rinse the paint that had splattered all over my body down the drain. Abigail had taken it upon herself to pick out an outfit for me. Something extremely skimpy that, honestly, I don’t remember ever buying. I put it on anyway. Sometimes it was better to just appease the beast then to antagonize it.
I came downstairs and Aiden took one look at me and almost shit a brick. Back upstairs I went to change. This time when I returned, he was a lot more satisfied. Just a pair of shorts and a faded Rainbow Brite tank top. Abigail threw her hands up in disgust. She was, by far, a diva when it came to clothes. The fashion Nazi. That was who she was, so it was back upstairs I go to change yet again.
This time I went with a pair of super tight jeans and a green polo shirt. If either one of them doesn’t like it, they can bite me.
“Who is gonna driving?” I asked, coming down the steps for a third time.
“I will.” Aiden volunteered. “Cause I am not driving back.”
“Please! Don’t fool yourself; you’ve been banned from driving. For life.” I stated
“Besides, nobody ever drives back from The Dave’s.” Interjected Abigail. “Their house is like the universal crash spot.”
“Well I don’t care if we crash there overnight or not, but I can’t miss another day of school tomorrow.” I announced.
“Don’t get all 1984.” Said Aiden. “The Thought Police will still be there in the morning.”
“Shut up Aiden, Madison’s right, I’m not missing class again either.”
“Whatever-whatever, well burn that bridge when we come to it. Let’s get the hell out of here though.”
“I don’t think we should take Dads car.” I said. “You know how he is; I don’t want it to get messed up.”
“What’s the point of having a car like that if you’re not gonna drive it? It’s like buying a brand new computer that only has a floppy disk drive and no Internet.” He complained.
“Hey, like you said, Dad left you in charge, not me. Let the chips fall where they may on that one.”
“Then I get to drive right?” He asked.
“No.” I didn’t even wait to hear him cry about it, but he didn’t.
We took The Rolling Stone anyway; Aiden did have a point about that. This was a once in a lifetime deal we had going on here with that car. I don’t know what possessed Dad to leave the keys with us, I wasn’t even
allowed to look at The Rolling Stone with my eyes directly, only at a tilt, but I doubt if we would get another chance like this again.
So we piled into the car and hit the blacktop with a vengeance.