Page

The vampire leaned over her victim. Her silhouette is beautiful and in direct conflict with her appearance. The time between feedings left her skin wrinkly. The avocado color is even repugnant to herself. The dead body, drained of the life-giving blood, stared blankly into nothingness. She knew she would be young and beautiful again after a good day's sleep in her coffin.

"Erick, this is crap." Page's words were both harsh and true. "You used all five words vampire, dead, coffin, victim, and avocado in one paragraph didn't ya. Great job!" The sarcastic tone removed any idea of a compliment.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Calmly, "Dear Erick, don't try so hard. Try being yourself more."

Erick sees his reflection on the computer screen. "There's nothing about me that's scary. This is a horror story contest. I haven't experienced anything horrifyingly scary in my life."

"No?" asked Page.

"What about sleep paralysis, huh?" smugly, "Or, when you were closing the store. Your back turned to the street, carrying the day's deposits to the bank," taking one of her signature dramatic pauses, "TAP on the shoulder." Laughingly, "Even you said you nearly shit yourself."

"Oh," she continued, "and the story of the woman's husband sitting next to you in the bar. She and her friend had conned you into going out the night before. You got drunk and 'made love' on her couch." The mischievous grin growing broader, "You sat there and bought him how many beers? Three …all the while listening to him cry in them. He didn't know who the man was, but he watched the shadows 'bump uglies' from his car. You can't tell me you haven't been scared before."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know she was married." Erick drank from the long-neck Miller Lite. "But, um, well, no one wants to read about that."

"Imagine," Page started typing,

Elaine could see the shadows formed against the curtains. Through the sliding glass doors, two people embrace on the tiled floor.
The flooding rain had slowed to a drizzle. Soaking through Elaine's clothes while standing aside an elm tree behind her home. She could see him on his back. His head resting against another woman's breast. The shadows outlined enough detail. Elaine knew the woman was nude and beautiful.
Holding each other's arms. They could be the cover of a cheesy romance novel. Neatly framed by the sliding door. Textured by the sheer curtains.
A droplet of water traveled down Elaine's spine. Spreading like the wake of a boat, she felt the chill from her neck to the small of her back. Her fears were true. "He's a cheating bastard!" she whispered through gritted teeth.

"Damn, Page ....."

"See, Erick," a sexy note running along her whispered words. "Everyone is afraid of something, and it's not always a monster."

Erick could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising. His breath quickened with Page's encouragement. Impotent, he stared at Page again. Her disappointment was clear as she recognized that, yet again, Erick could not cross the threshold to meet her.

Erick left her alone in the small room. This wasn't the first time.

...

"Erick ....."

"Erick ...." the sultry voice breathed. Elongating the name, "Eeerriick ..."

"Erick, you are staring." Her voice contained no trace of annoyance. She actually sounded pleased.

"You haven't stared at me like that for a long time." Erick felt the skin tingle at the nape of his neck. A softness caressed the tight muscles in his shoulders.

Blinking, "Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"That's okay. You were thinking about me?" Page's presence hypnotic, Erick seemed frozen in time and place when she spoke. "or, are you thinking what you want to do to me?" Not disguising the innuendo in her words.

Erick needed more air. He inhaled. Page always spoke the truth. He was, indeed, thinking about what he wanted to do. Exactly where he would place his hands. The practiced motions of his fingers. But, like so many times before, the confidence to act on Page's invitation faded. Then sputtered, then petered out to a dull ache of failure.

Page didn't show any emotion. However, her disappointment was clear in the blankness she displayed. Ready, naked, and again left wanting.

Disappointed in himself. Erick stood and left the room. He couldn't look at Page without feeling the shame of another opportunity passed by.

...

"Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can't see," Erick mumbled.

"What the hell?" Brian looked up from his desk. The desks, more like long tables, are arranged in side-by-side horseshoe configurations. Brian and Erick sit opposite each other on the ends of their respective shoes.

"Oh, what .."

"What did you just say?" Brian asked.

Chuckling, "Sometimes when I close my eyes I can't see." Erick repeated. "I guess I saw it on a meme. It just popped into my head."

"Well, as your lead tester, I can't see anything with my eyes open," winking at Erick, "I didn't know coders could get writer's 'block.'" Emphasizing the word 'block'. "Get that code 'block', unblocked and finish." stressed again, "We both need to eat. Speaking of eating, let's go to lunch."

...

The two men sat at a high table, the waitress standing at the perfect height for eye contact, though the uniform begged you to look down. This place plays a wicked game. She took their order. Brian started talking before she got two steps away.

"Erick, you know what you need? You need to get laid." Started the same monolog Brian gives at least once a month. Erick had heard his stereotypical theory many times. Tuning Brian out this time is easier than the last.

Fumbling with his pen. Erick turned the napkin to a better angle.
"Bared my soul upon her skin."

Erick remained focused on the written words. The waitress returned with plates of food. He slid the napkin to the side, making room for his burger and fries. The waitress read what Erick had written.

"That's sweet," the young lady motioned toward the napkin, "short and sweet." Smiling.

"Oh, thank you," Erick says, muffled by a french fry.

She politely turned and left. Looking back over her shoulder to survey the table one more time.

"See ...?" Brian patted the table. "See, even she knows you need to be laid." Pointing at the napkin, "and that creepy ah, ah "Six Word Memoir" as you call them opened the door. But, NO! Erick won't ...."

Shaking his head, Brian starts eating his burger instead of further ranting.

In Erick's mind's eye, he could see Page smiling. He could feel her flesh. The small imperfections massaging his fingertips. Stroking the napkin lightly. Erick thought to himself, "She would like these words."

Brian never understood Page, so Erick knew not to mention her. Folding the napkin into his pocket, he wanted to remember the words later.

...

Erick sat in front of the familiar blank document, thinking, "Well, Brian, I believe you will be a victim tonight." The sounds of clicking keys started a rhythm.

"Erick," Page whispered, "Touch me, Erick. Touch me like you did at lunch."

Erick pulled the napkin from his pocket. Gently smoothing the square out. "I knew you would like these words." Erick smiled.

"Are they a promise, Erick? Will you bare your soul for me?" soft as silk, Page's words played in the currents of Erick's mind.

'Brian could feel the cold stone floor against his back. He needed help moving, but he was unable to fight or scream.'

Page exhaled a moaning breath.

'The vampire cradled her victim to her chest. Hungry from a long fast. She didn't know how long she was entombed in her coffin. Released by flood waters, the box surfaced above the dirt and clay. The night was wet and cold. She found this house close to the long-forgotten cemetery she once called home.

Brian looked into dead eyes. His mind begged his body to respond. Yet, his breathing remained shallow and steady.

The creature's wrinkled hand opened his collar. The vampire turned his head and tilted it to her left. Exposing the pulsating carotid artery.

Nor could his heart beat faster. The old avocado-like skin filled his view of the world. The fear is only in his mind. His paralyzed body is unable to manifest a twitch. Screaming without making a noise. Involuntary submission is his only option.'

"Don't stop now. Erick .…", her voice quietly trailing off. Her soft and silky voice, "Erick … oh Erick ...", the computer screen's glow tinted a whitish blue. Emulating a piece of paper. Keystroke after keystroke, adding words to the electronic document.

Erick could see the time passing on his computer's clock. Friday gave way to Saturday. Page continued to encourage him. Whenever he started to slow down. Page would repeat the words from the napkin. "You promised me your soul." He continued to write.

"No more impotence. I give you my soul Page. Upon your skin, I will write it." In a trance, Erick continued to type as Saturday surrendered itself to Sunday.

---

"Ok officer, keep everyone out of the house for a little while longer. We will let the coroner remove the body as soon as the pictures are done."

Detective Daniel Lion looked at the sparse room. A body slumped over a keyboard. Click and flash as the camera saves another image. The PC making pinging noises, indicating the character buffer is full. "Christ, sake, it's Friday. Why don't people look for their friends sooner?" asking rhetorically sarcastic. Click, flash.

"Erick Leemen. He's a .. uh, he was a computer programmer." The officer stopped talking when Dan tensed his brow. The small gap between his eyebrows disappeared, making a fluffy black unibrow, speckled with some gray.

"So, as usual, he has no friends, and his work," click, flash, "waited four days before reporting him missing." Dan knew he would be doing paperwork on Saturday for sure now.

"No signs of forced entry. No struggle. What did he do, write himself to death?" asked rhetorically again, click, flash.

"I guess, sir. The printer light is flashing for more paper." Officer Aniece pointed to the printer. "Half a ream of paper is in the out tray. It looks like he needed to add more pages."

Letting the camera dangle from his neck. Dan opened his notebook, writing, "Another tortured writer."

Dan heard a soft hum. Looking at Officer Aniece, "Excuse me?" he asked.

Puzzled, "Excuse what?"

"Did you make a noise?"

"Not that I know of, sir," he replied courteously as he left the room.

Dan started writing again,

-Lived alone.

-Clothing appeared unchanged.

-The room's atmosphere is dry. The man has little or no imagination.

"Oh, Dan …you can do better," a female whispered in Dan's ear.

Turning around. Dan didn't see anyone in the room. Both officers had left. The stiff definitely wasn't talking. "Damn, flies. Why can't these guys be missed sooner?" Dan mused.

Using a ruler from the desk organizer. Dan lifted Erick's hand off the keyboard. The incessant beeping stopped. On the computer screen, a document with rows of "c's."

The words "Bared my soul upon her skin" were written on a restaurant napkin. Dan used an evidence bag to capture the napkin. He reads "Bared my soul upon her skin" out loud.

"Poor Erick," a sexy female voice. Followed by a sultry moan.

Dan looked around again. That was not a fly buzzing. He secured the napkin in the bag before placing it in his breast pocket.

-Look up the phrase written on the napkin

Dan held his notepad in his right hand, gently sliding his thumb on the paper. "Yes, Dan, touch me ..."

Dan looked around again; no one else was in the room. Tentatively, Dan dragged his index finger lightly across the page of his notebook. The slight imperfections and warmth felt disturbingly like flesh.

"Oh, Dan ...…my name is Page"