Love Sucks! My Halloween Ghost Story...takes place in a little bar in Montmarte, Paris...

Hi everyone!

If you're looking for Joy Campbell's blog tour post, it's one down!!!!!

It's time for those Halloween creepy stories. Here's one of my stories I posted three years ago for RomanticFridayWriters. I've had a fresh look at it, revamped it, lol, and post for your reading pleasure. I really love these guys!

When you’ve lived on this earth for 400+ years you crave excitement. I was done with sleeping all day in a dark room with the velvet drapes drawn, hiding from the sun, waking up to microwaved blood. 

What’s a vamp to do all century?

Haunt the streets? 

That gets so old after awhile.

I slammed the hotel door and sashayed along Montmarte’s glitter strip, my current Parisian suburb of interest. Tourists gawking, homeless hawking, blackboard artist chalking. "ETERNITY". Cool. Same old, same old. Then right next door to Moulin Rouge, I saw it: ‘A VENDRE’. 

My synapses zapped. My planets aligned. A contract to sign.

I’d accumulated a tidy sum over the centuries, you know. Compound interest compounds, so before you could say ‘More blood and make it quick,’ the business belonged to moi.

The little bar was perfect -- vamp chic – blood-red carpet, black walls, red bar counter, black furniture. Suited my little black er, heart. The pictures clinched the deal – horror-movie posters proclaimed murder and mayhem on every wall. 

Now I no longer have to prowl the mean streets at night. I got me a hidey-hole. 

‘Ya not going to run this place all by yaself, are ya?’

I turned from admiring my Dracula poster which was a bit like looking in the mirror, black cloak and super handsome face, but like, wow! Look what's just promenaded down my little 15th Century wonky stairs! Flowing black tresses, lush curves poured into a little black dress, black fishnet stockings. Oh so tastee.

‘You offering to help, er, miss?’

“Ya, moi, who else d’ya see? I thought those black glasses were just for show.’

‘You know bar work? You look, like twelve. Show me some ID.’ 

I was only kidding but she whipped out the plastic.

‘Looks can be deceiving. You look, like, nineteen.’ 

She winked at me, cheeky minx.

I flipped the ID back to her. Fake as, who cared? 

I want this girl-child.

‘What d’ya think? I been working bars for many a year. Know some tricks.’

‘It’s not that kind of bar. It’ll be a clean operation.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Drink, tapas, music…’

‘Boring as. But I can be boring if ya want.’

 ‘What’s your name?’ I clasped her black-gloved hand. ‘I’m Drack Kulah.’

‘Really?’ 

‘Really.’

‘Well I’m Ruby Black, but go by -’

‘Snow White?’

‘Right on Drak. Hilaarrious. So, whatcha think?’

‘You’re hired. No funny business or you’ll be out on your pretty butt.’

‘My butt’s pretty?’ She twirled, black lacy dress flowing like waves, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of shapely snow-white leg and a flash of lacy black knickers. Pity about those ugly Doc Marten’s.

‘You want stilettos, you got stilettos,’ she smirked, ‘but that’s not all I got.’ She sidled up and grabbed me around the neck. Her gloved fingers stroked my black curls.

Who needs to go hunting? She was mine, right here, right now. A gift.

I took her in my steely arms, aiming for the jugular, then…wow! She's got no throbbing pulse! 

That was that then. Of course I knew the minute she walked in...

At least one female in the bar's out of temptation’s way.

Bring on the next one...

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Thanks for reading!

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