Twilight Children Episode 11
Vlad falls in love.
Twilight Children is a horror serialization about care giving, family, and consuming stories. Episodes are released weekly. If you’re new here, you can catch up on episodes on the Twilight Children homepage.
Writing Skins is a reader supporter author newsletter that shares excerpts from Aigner Loren Wilson’s writing journal. Aigner is an award winning and nominated author of literary speculative fiction and nonfiction.
Previously On: In last week’s episode, Vlad changes for a new desire just as the corporate book store begins to take roots in the town.
Faithfully
VladThere was another month or so before The Book Haulers opened, and Vlad could go see Carmen again. The weeks gave Vlad enough time to fully prepare for her and Carmen’s second meeting. She even enlisted the help of Ryth, who led with one simple question.
“What the hell happened to you?” They stared at Vlad among the stacks of Elaine’s.
“I grew.” She twirled around, knocking down several of the books lining the shelves. “Sorry. Still getting used to all this flesh.”
“Flesh,” Ryth said, taking Vlad’s hand and slowly, gently guiding her around in a circle in a proper twirl. “Bitch, you got body.”
“Do you think she’ll like it?”
“She who, babe?”
They walked back to the counter overflowing with books that Ryth hadn’t decided where their perfect home would be. Vlad picked up one and placed it near her mouth but knew better than to start chewing on it in front of Ryth. They were close. Friends, even. But that part of her, the part that made her a monster, was only for family.
“Carmen.” The name fell out of Vlad’s mouth like caramel, sticky and thick.
Ryth eyed her up and down with a smirk. “Ron’s daughter? The college fuck up?”
Stepping closer to where Ryth stood beside the counter, Vlad walked them up against the wall. In a low growl, she asked, “What did you say?”
“Chill,” Ryth said, placing a hand against Vlad’s protruding belly.
Could they feel the churning within?
“Her sister said that’s what she calls herself. Wears her shit like a badge of honor or something.”
Vlad’s upset quickly changed from anger to starving curiosity, and she stepped closer, letting her folds take Ryth’s hand. “What’s the story?”
“Jesus,” Ryth hissed, squeezing away from Vlad and taking a seat in the broken, creaky office chair behind the register. “You got it bad, girl. There’s no story. At least not one I’m curious enough to figure out. She’s probably just another one of those Gen Zeros who realized college was a scam but had to wait until she wasn’t daddy’s dependent before throwing in the towel. You’re seeing it more and more these days. Honestly, it makes one’s cold heart hold on to some hope that we’re all waking up to the hells we’re forced into.
“Speaking of hell,” they said, looking at Vlad over their glasses. “That’s exactly where you’re heading with all that ass and heart. Slow down. Take a deep breath. And forget about Carmen.”
Playing with her fingers like counting the days until the next time she would see Carmen, Vlad said, “Can’t. She got in. I’m keeping her.”
Concern inched into Ryth’s voice. “Have you even talked to her?”
“Her voice sings me to sleep.”
“Oh, wow. Okay.”
Again, Vlad spun. “I think she’ll love it.”
“Oh yeah? Is that what she’s been singing to you at night?”
“No, but also yes. It’s hard to explain.”
“Love always is.”
“Love?”
“That thing in your heart right now making it feel like a supped-up crotch rocket with only one destination in its GPS. That’s love.”
Turning the word over between her teeth, Vlad tasted the circumference and wreckage of the small word. Love. Is that what she felt, groaning against her bones? Love, like Ryth said, like a supped-up rocket? But that’s not how it felt. There was not just one feeling in the small racing place of her heart. She felt Carmen everywhere. Beyond the spaces she even knew existed within herself. Carmen spanned away from her and all around her, inside and outside.
“No,” Vlad said.
And surprisingly, Ryth accepted the answer. “So, you’re not in love. But you want her to notice you?”
Vlad nodded furiously.
Eyeing her again, Ryth nodded. “Well, I don’t think you’ll have a problem getting noticed. By Carmen or anyone. Babe, honestly, your body is rocking, and girls aren’t even my thing usually. You’ll catch whoever’s attention you want.”
Whipping the doors to The Book Haulers open, Vlad strode in, Elaine’s black trench coat trailing behind her. The coat encased her large form in just the right way to show off what Ryth called mountains only the bravest would dare scale. Their voice echoed in Vlad’s mind.
Don’t go right up to her.
Make her chase you.
Always have a book in your hand.
If you’re not moving, you’re leaning against something.
And as the words came, they went. All the hours of extra help Ryth put her through flew away like doves in the snow to get lost in the music of the book store’s radio. A man belched about living faithfully and a girl standing by him, also, faithfully. The melody threw Vlad back in time to that first day, that first moment of seeing Carmen sitting at the piano, her fingers moving across it with such diligent attention—
Vlad’s thighs twitched.
Like Carmen, the large corporate bookstore was like nothing Vlad had ever seen. It stretched out so far Vlad could barely read the signs hanging in the way the back. A mural wrapped around the upper parts of the wall with painted people sitting in a busy, almost overcrowded cafe that resembled the large restaurant off to the left of where Vlad entered and stood examining the store and quietly sniffing out any traces of Carmen on the air. There were noises Vlad could pick up underneath the strumming of the guitar. A steamer spluttering and spitting over in the restaurant. The sound of someone cursing—also in the restaurant.
Following the sounds, Vlad went like a spider toward the cafe tables and circular counter. Despite all the noise and the obnoxious volume of the radio overhead, the person working behind the counter was absorbed in their work in an almost transfixed way. His green apron had his name Christopher and pronouns he/him embroidered on the chest.
Someone like Carmen would never exist in a place like this. Vlad pressed on, abandoning the loud food area for what could only be described as the Disney vomit section. Bright colors and twinkling costume dresses made Vlad dizzy. She stumbled away from the assault of gender norms toward the only place she thought she’d find safety: the books. But instead, she caught a tail.
Collin Barnes they/them or he/him hovered so close to Vlad she could smell the cigarette perfume clinging to their skin.
“Can I help you find something?” they asked, eyeing Vlad’s pockets and hands.
She didn’t respond and drifted through the rows of books, trying to shake him like an annoying fly.
“Collin,” Ron’s voice cut through the music overhead, sharp and booming. “To the registers. Collin, to the registers.”
He mumbled under his breath something Vlad could care less to overhear and shuffled off toward the front where Vlad had entered. In Collin’s place, Ron appeared right before the self-help books and hovered between the science and cookbook section.
“Vlad,” he said, smiling. “I was hoping I’d see you in here.”
Vlad’s tongue slipped out quicker than she could think better of the words, “I’m here for your daughter.”
His eyebrows raised. “Of course you are.”
Dropping his shoulders and letting his eyes drift toward the far section of books behind Vlad, Ron pointed toward a sign in the middle of the store. Help Desk. And like a secret kept so quiet in her mind, Vlad locked eyes with Carmen standing at another circular desk with computers surrounding the inside and outsides.
Carmen’s eyes did what Ryth’s did at her appearance, except slower. Carmen traced Vlad’s form paying delicate attention to each curve, belt, buckle, and heel.
“Come find me before you leave. I have something for you,” Ron said as Vlad drifted toward Carmen.
“Can I help you?” Carmen asked when Vlad got close.
“They’re playing your song,” Vlad said.
Carmen’s face screwed up, fully awake and alert for what seemed like the first time all day. “My song?”
“The one you played.” Vlad mumble-sang the words she was able to pick up from the classic rock ballad playing out in the store.
This made Carmen’s light brown skin burn red. “Oh, please, stop. That’s horrible.”
Luckily, the song changed, and Vlad stopped. “It’s your song.”
“You never heard Journey before?”
“A journey from one person to another is called home,” Vlad said, reciting a line from one of her favorite poetry books.
“No,” Carmen said, laughing loudly, a cruel glint in her eye that only pulled Vlad in more. “Journey as in the old band from the ’80s. They play that classic rock shit all the time in this place or places like it.”
Vlad stared blankly at Carmen, listening with every ounce of her being. She wanted to remember this. Hold onto it like the bones of a story.
“Safe to say, maybe you should visit the music section.” Carmen picked up a small handheld tablet and clipped it onto her name tag lanyard. “Come on.”
And Vlad did, close enough to smell the sweat and dust on Carmen’s skin. She led Vlad down wide rows of books, all neatly organized and alphabetized by name and categorized by subject, sometimes even more detailed than that. There were tiny signs with the names of the books resting above them. Everything here was different, almost in opposition to Elaine’s. Ryth would have a fit. But Vlad knew even though Nos worked here, Ryth would never step foot in the large bookstore out of principle.
Vlad’s only principle at the moment moved away from her quicker and quicker until it felt like Vlad was walking at a near run, hunting Carmen through the store. And after several right turns, Vlad realized that’s exactly what she was doing.
Carmen was playing a hunt.
Vlad laughed. She knew how to hunt in a bookstore.
She fell away from Carmen’s quickened pace and doubled back, looping around bookcases. Through the small spaces in-between the shelves, Vlad watched Carmen try and locate her again.
A smile played across Carmen’s lips when their eyes met through several rows of books.
They broke off, each fleeing. Vlad didn’t know where she was going but knew wherever it was, Carmen would be there, waiting, panting, wondering what the end of the game would bring.
Vlad had several ideas of how to reward the winner and punish the loser. But she didn’t know which one she wanted to be. All she knew was Carmen—
“Got ya,” Carmen said, grabbing Vlad by the waist and spinning her around.
No one had ever touched, let alone corralled, Vlad like this except for Elaine when Vlad was young and small. But Vlad wasn’t young and small anymore, and Carmen was nothing like Elaine.
Vlad’s head ducked forward before she knew what it meant to press her lips against another. It wasn’t like chewing on pages or hearing a story. It was worse. It didn’t satiate her hunger but built a pain in her. The only way she could think to stop the hurt was to kiss Carmen more and more, bringing teeth and tongue and hands to the fight of her life. And Carmen fought, too.
After Carmen shoved Vlad away and told her to go home so she could get to work, Carmen gave Vlad her number. Vlad stared at it as she walked through the parking lot of The Book Haulers. The number was like a secret code to get into Carmen, but Vlad wasn’t sure where she’d punch it in.
“Vlad!” Ron chased her down in the darkened and relatively empty parking lot. “Vlad, wait.”
Still eyeing Carmen’s phone number, Vlad stopped. When Ron caught up to her, he had a book in his hand that he tried to hand to Vlad. The 36-Hour Day.
“There are 24 hours in a day and an infinity in the seconds held within,” Vlad said, quoting another book.
This made Ron laugh. “No, it’s a caregiver help book. You know, for those who are caregivers for people with dementia or Alzheimers, like Elaine.” He pressed the book into Vlad’s palm, where she held Carmen’s number. “It’ll help you. It helped me.”
He gave another smile, this time sad and understanding, before placing a hand on Vlad’s shoulder and wishing her a good night. On the way home, she ate both the number and book. One was helpful, the other not.
Winter Wonderland
VladAnd that’s how it went for weeks. Vlad would come into The Book Haulers. Hunt down Carmen in the empty store, and together they’d run their lips over the exposed flesh of the other in some corner or up against some bookshelf.
Vlad wanted to know where Carmen lived and what the snow looked like falling past her window. Was it static or a snow globe? Vlad wanted to taste the sweat and shampoo stamped into Carmen’s sheets. She wanted to know what it felt like to toss a stone up at Carmen’s window and be let in.
Vlad wanted in, in every way, but Carmen only gave her small pathways to her. The smallest being that they could only meet at the bookstore or outside of it, but never at Carmen’s home.
“It’s always empty here,” Carmen said. “And we’re never bothered.” She nuzzled against Vlad’s neck as she pinned her against the autobiography section. Eleanor Roosevelt stared out at Vlad as Carmen continued to kiss and bite and press against her. “I like having you all to myself. Is there something wrong with that?”
All Vlad could do was moan.
“I’ll take that as a no. Now stop and let me catalog you.”
Kisses in the stacks is what Vlad got, and though it wasn’t much, it was everything. It was what she thought about while wrestling Elaine into a bath. The soundtrack over Elaine’s constant deteriorated yelling.
If it wasn’t for the small, tight moments wrapped around Carmen, Vlad wouldn’t know who or what her life was. And though it chilled her to the bone, her dependence on the other young woman, who was so wild and dangerous she could taste it on her tongue every time it dipped into her mouth, Vlad couldn’t stop herself from showing up every day to stand in the parking lot and wait for that giant red and blue sign to turn on and let her inside.
As the days waned on into snowier, colder, and darker winter days, Ron began implementing new programs and procedures to get the town and people from outside to come into the store. When Carmen would allow it, Vlad would drive with her down the road that led out of town and to the highway, where cars zoomed by faster than anything Vlad had ever seen in her life. Together they’d place signs and posters along the snowy banks of the highway.
“Where are all the cars going?” Vlad asked as she hammered in her 10th sign of the day while Carmen stood beside her.
Carmen had wood stakes tucked under her arm and posters laying in her outstretched forearms. “Shit, V, I don’t know. Just hurry up. I’m freezing.”
Her black SUV sat idling with the heat cranked to ten back down the road.
“Go sit in the truck. I’ll finish up.”
Carmen dropped the supplies in the snow before throwing over her shoulder, “Don’t get hit by a car.”
Vlad didn’t mind the cold and loved watching the cars zoom by on their way to someplace Vlad couldn’t even imagine. When she finished hammering in the last poster advertising The Book Haulers, Vlad looked at her work along the highway. There were markers everywhere stating how far away and where the large bookstore was located. It even said what types of books they sold. Along the blue and red posters, there was one mention of Ghostwoods and no mention of any of the other stores in town, let alone Elaine’s.
Carmen inched her SUV up to Vlad and honked, waving for her to get in the truck. It took a moment, and another horn honk to break Vlad out of her concentration. Vlad climbed into the black Toyota but kept her eyes on the signs.
“Why not mention stuff other than your bookstore?” Vlad asked.
Carmen shrugged and placed her warm hand against Vlad’s frozen cheeks. “Vlad, it really doesn’t matter.”
“But the people who come to your bookstore won’t know about The Wandering Woman or how to keep from getting lost in the woods.”
“Those are kid’s stories. And The Book Haulers deals in purely capitalistic fantasies of draining everything dry.”
Taking her eyes off the signs, Vlad considered Carmen. “It’s the history of Ghostwoods. The Wandering Woman is real. Her children are real.”
As though she didn’t hear Vlad, Carmen said with a wink, “We should get you someplace warm.”
She peeled off fast and headed back toward the turn-off toward Ghostwoods. The snow grew heavier, casting a sheet of rippling white over the windshield. Carmen tried to keep hold of the wheel, but a few times, the large truck veered out of her control. Each slip on the road made Carmen squeal, but Vlad watched the pines become distorted in the snow as The Wandering Woman’s shadow stretched over them, casting them in a crackling cloud of hail.
Golf ball-sized ice pellets fell from the sky, putting spiderweb fractures in the glass on Carmen’s SUV.
More fell, showering them in danger.
Carmen screamed, letting go of the wheel. They spun out of control. In a storm of a spin, the truck whirled, picking up so much speed Vlad felt the wheels leave the ground before bashing back onto the road. At a certain speed, a truck stops being a truck and becomes a rock in the hands of a careless kid.
The SUV ricocheted with a nasty crunch and groan, popping up like it weighed nothing, like the young women inside were just debris lost in an upshot of wind. A tree finally stopped the truck once it slid down off into a deep bank, shaking up all the contents inside and sending Vlad into a darkness she’d never met before.
Next Time: Vlad’s want for Carmen reaches disastrous heights.
Twilight Children Episode 12
Twilight Children is a horror serialization about care giving, family, and consuming stories. Episodes are released weekly. If you’re new here, you can catch up on episodes on the Twilight Children homepage.
What did you think? I’m trying things out and everything is an experiment. I’d love to know your thoughts? Love it. Hate it. Absolutely indifferent and confused?