My red wine

                (painting by Adrian Borda)


It is the end of Spring,  just before Summer burns the buds and dries the fields that I first feel that my blood is clogging my veins making me all sleepy. Summer is coming and I feel heavy and full, content and bored.
No, No. This won't do me any good.
A strange artistic desire popped out from within me just as I was staring at the white walls of my humble flat in the suburbs.
I need colour, I need new life.
I was never much of a painter though I have tried it on several occasions in my life, more for therapeutic reasons rather than driven by the fire of artistic expression.
I'm guessing that my need for change, for colour, for new life is founded on psychological grounds; the artist within me has yet to awaken. However, the drive is strong and so is the ice-cold light reflecting from my walls, especially the wall above my bed.
This is the wall I must reform first.
Yes, yes. I need to see life and colour and feel passion the very moment my eyes open.
And blood it is, for blood should be; so, out of me it goes and on the wall it splashes.
I slice both wrists and lay on my bed, two buckets on either side. Soon, too soon for my liking, my wrists heal and I have to cut them open again...such as waste of time.
Too bored after a while, I bite them open, the taste is good but I am getting seriously bored.
The buckets on either side of me are half full; if my calculations are correct this is enough for one wall.
Ah, the delights of creation!
My paintbrush soaks and drips on my hand. I lick my fingers, I lick the wall, I make love to the wall.
Why hadn't I think of this before?
My wall is blood red I roll on it, eat it and take a few pictures perhaps? I don't see why not, I haven't looked or felt that good since the glorious 90's!
This is colour, this is new life and passion and freedom; my body is empty and light and bendy and needy...
Oh, so needy. I ache, I am hungry and thirsty again. What a glorious revelation!

I quickly pick up the phone and dial her number.

"No, no don't come, I'll meet you outside. We can go to the restaurant you fancy so much. I can watch you eat and then drink..."
"You sound different tonight; delighted, happy, refreshed!"
"Oh I am. I painted my wall red!"
"Are you thirsty a lot then?"
"Yes, but I won't drink, just a sip, just for the buzz."
"Just a sip eh? Well, I'll pack up some juice, just in case."
"Yeah, you do that!"
"Don't be late again!"
"No, I won't, the thirst is too strong for that!"

I hung up the phone and change the filthy rag that used to be my dress.
 Something black perhaps...and lacy and dark just so that I can absorb as much of her light that I can.
She'll be the spring, the green and red, I'm sure.
She's my fine new wine, all mine to drink, all pure!

爱 AI (Part II)

                         ( a story by Macy, scroll down for part I)

A few days ago Alex had found a crystal necklace on the road. Just as she was picking it up a car sped towards her.
BANG!
She knew she was dead before she felt it and now this.
"I'm just a girl in the 21st century! Why did this strange thing happen to me?" She felt desperate and helpless. In the end she started to cry. After a while she realised the situation in which she found herself now; she was a princess and had a fiancee who didn't like her, he just needed power and wanted to control her. Alex didn't want to die again. She knew she had to play the role of Victoria and no one could know the truth.
If you can't change the things in your life, you might as well enjoy them and since she had died once she felt she should treasure this second chance. But first she had to find what was going on between Victoria and Vincent and what the real plan was.
"The altar!" she said. "I have to go to the altar!" She didn't know why but something told her she had to go to that place again but how? She didn't know where that place was.
"Servant!" she said imitating the voice of the princess she once saw in a film.
"Princess Victoria, what can I do for you?" a young bowed girl said as she came quickly into the room.
"I want to go to the altar to thank God I am not dead!"
"Yes your highness, I will prepare your clothes.."
"No, we must go now! And I don't want anyone to know but you. Can I trust you?"
"Yes, your highness." the servant said with a trembling voice, she could never refuse the princess.
"Lead the way!" said Alex climbing down the bed.
The servant was very surprised by this because the princess had been to the altar many times before but she was too afraid to ask the princess.
Once they arrived at the altar Alex felt the certainty that should find something very important here and there is was, the crystal necklace, on the ground. She knelt to pick it up and was instantly lost inside a dream. Victoria and Vincent's life unfolded inside her head.

                                                            (painting by Sonya Fu)


"Victoria, are you alright? They told me you fainted again! I have lost you so many times already I don't want to lose you again. I love you no matter what." Vincent said as he leant over her.
"I know, and I love you too." Alex said with a smile.
Vincent was taken aback by Victoria's reaction.
"Can we have the wedding in two days then?"
"Sure" she said.
Two days later,they had their luxurious wedding. Alex was the happiest girl in the world.. On their wedding night Alex was in their room waiting for Vincent's big surprise.
"Are you happy today?"Vincent asked when he came into the room.
"Of course Vincent. And I want to tell you something."Alex didn't want to lie him anymore she wanted to tell him who she was.

"Shh.....Don't say anything now. It is time to party!!!"Vincent laughed loudly.
"What do you mean party?"Alex could think of what was going to happen.
"Alex!I knew you who you were when I saw you  the first time!"
"What?!" she cried.
"I have no time to explain now.Give me your blood or you will died again!" he said wrapping his hands around her throat.
"Please.....stop...give me some..... "Alex throttled.
" You have no right to refuse me! But for your sweet magic blood I would have never laid eyes on you." His sharp teeth pierced Alex's white neck felt her blood being drawn out of her.

                         (painting by Sui Yumeshima)


When she opened her eyes, he was there sitting on the bed beside her.
"Now I have what I want." he said. "Now I can live forever, Victoria's royal blood was the key to immortality, I read it in the sacred book.
 And just for your information, I loved her too. I told her the truth about what I was and what I wanted from her and she didn't love me enough to grant me my wish...I didn't want to kill her, just replace her and this is how you came..but unfortunately...you need to die too."
Alex had no time to react;his dagger was much faster that her. she died without words.just after her eyes closed for the last time Vincent's body collapsed on the floor cold and rigid.
The truth is that Vincent was a lazy man. If he had gone into the trouble to read the book carefully and from page to page, he would have read this:

                                  " ... to take her blood you are her are two parts of a whole. You must protect, and love her forever for her life is your own."

                                     (painting by Sonya Fu)

GU

                 ( painting by Cornacchia,  www.conrnacchia.ru)
18 poisonous creatures.
 Scorpions, frogs, snakes, centipedes, spiders.
All trapped inside my old, copper pot without food or water. A heavy rock keeps the lid on its place.
At first they struggle to get out of their cage but they soon realise that they are there for good.
Only the strongest will survive.
My heart is on the scorpion, my beloved Ku, who has been the winner of the arena so many times before. He is the only one who does not move towards the lid. He knows what needs to be done and waits his turn. Victorious Ku.

The constant scratching and shaking of the pot keeps me awake at night. It shakes on the kitchen table and fills me with anticipation; the strongest Gu is always produced from the most furious of battlefields.
I fear for Ku, he's been my protector and provider for so long, we are bound in life and death. What if he leaves me now? I sit by the kitchen table and sing for him, to know I care:

From thy false tears I did distil
An essence which hath strength to kill;
From thy own heart I then did wring
The black blood in its blackest spring;
From thy own smile I snatch'd the snake,
For there it coil'd as in a brake;
From thy own lip I drew the charm
Which gave all these their chiefest harm;
In proving every poison known,
I found the strongest was thine own.
(Incantation, Lord Byron)

The morning finds me next to a silent pot. I close my eyes and feel the cold copper, nothing stirs, there is only death. My hand shakes as I remove the heavy stone.

 From thy false tears I did distil
An essence which hath strength to kill;
From thy own heart I then did wring
The black blood in its blackest spring;
From thy own smile I snatch'd the snake,
For there it coil'd as in a brake;
From thy own lip I drew the charm
Which gave all these their chiefest harm;
In proving every poison known,
I found the strongest was thine own.
(Incatation, Lond Byron)

Ku stands above the dead, he is the winner yet again. Now the only thing that needs to be done is do draw the Gu out of him with the gentlest hand I know he loves.

The deed is done, the witch is spared. Now it's time for the wheel to spin again.

爱 AI (Part I) A story written by 17 year-old Macy.

(Macy)

There was a very beautiful and sexy girl knelled at the altar. She was wearing a flamboyant attire and there was a crown on her head. Nobody knew who she was and why she had come to the altar at midnight but from her clothes everybody guessed she was a princess. She closed her eyes and bowed her head in prayer. After a long time, she stood up, smiled happily and ran down the steps.

Suddenly, she tripped and fell, her head smashing against the stone.

" Are you ok? Hey, wake up!"

"Victoria, are you ok?"

"Open your eyes please."

There was a girl on the bed and a crowd around her. The girl had disappeared two days ago.

Finally, a servant found her fainted at the altar but nobody knew why. They were very worried about her, some of them were even crying.

There was one person who didn't say anything; he just held her hand sitting at her bedside. It seemed that noone could take him away from her.

In a moment full of anxiety, the quiet man felt the girl's hand move.

"Doctor!" he said " She is waking up, hurry!"

Everyone smiled happily, they crossed themselves and thanked their God. They waited for the doctor to say something and prayed that the girl would get better.

"Your Serene Highness Prince Vincent, Princess Victoria hasn't got a serious problem but she needs silence in order to sleep. So, apart from one person who can stay to accompany her, all the others must go out." The doctor said to the quiet man.

Until all the people left the room, they could still see the man holding her hand. They thought of the girl's luck to have such a good man.

"Are you ok Victoria? Would you like to drink some water?" He asked her in an anxious voice.

The girl opened her eyes and looked at them man blankly.

"Victoria?" she thought "Who me? No!!! Where am I? What happened?'

"What is it?" he asked "Why aren't you talking to me? Why did you go to the altar at midnight? Did something happen there? Why did you faint?" so many questions, he asked so many questions.

"Stop! Who are you? Why are you asking me so many questions? This is none of your business!" the

girl said angrily.

"I am your fiance! Obviously there is nothing wrong with your body." he said with a smile.

"My fiance? Can you tell me where this place is? No, no please leave my room!"she said puzzled.

"Are you kidding me? This is my palace! I am going to leave now but I will come back tomorrow. Have a good rest BUT I will tell you this one last time; don't try to destroy my plan again! No matter what you do, we must have the wedding in two days and if you play tricks, you will die in a very cruel way. I need that power!" he said his soft manners gone. He was another man now.

This change shocked the girl. Vincent walked out of the girl and she slumped in the bed.

"Who is Victoria and Vincent? I am Alex! Why did the people call me Victoria?" the girl was talking to herself now, all this confusion was driving her crazy.

The fact is that the girl's body was Victoria's but the soul inside was not. That was Alex.

She thought for a long time and began to remember things; her mind travelled over the last thing that had happened to her.



Paperfire

" I miss you.
Today I put petrol in the car; I know it's something you don't like doing so I did it before you run out.
I miss you.
I poured coffee in your mug, hazelnut with caramel just how you like it."

Friction inflamed the match. He held it under the small page; so vulnerable and willing, it instantly surrendered. The flames devoured it completely, it only a black lump on the wooden table now, the message was sent.

He puts the matches in his back pocket but keeps the tiny notepad close. He pulls the mugs towards him and brings one to his lips without taking his eyes off the other one; the one he calls hers.

The plastic clock on the wall announces the death of the next second . He sips again and stares inside the mug. It is the sound of thunder that tears him from his thoughts.

The wind blasts inside the room knocking down the china vase on the mantel; it was her favourite piece.

"Damn!" he says and rushes to shut the French windows. The wind is so strong it pushes him back so he tries again.

He kneels to pick up the broken pieces of the vase she loved so much when his eyes fall on a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. He smiles at it and waits for a moment before picking it up and placing it gently on the table.

He unfolds it and spreads it open with his hand.

"Please come." it said.

The man picks up a box from under the table and opens it. Inside, dozens of or tiny pieces of crumpled paper are piled neatly. All of them written in the same curvy handwriting, all replies to his

paperfire messages.

"I'll be home soon." said one

"Don't forget to fill up the car." said another.

"Don't wait up."

"See you soon."

He throws the last message in the box and pulls the notepad and pen in front of him.

"It won't be long now." he writes and pulls the matches out of his back pocket.

The paper burns with haste.

I didn't know it could be.

A vampire doesn't haunt. Instead he is haunted; by tales and memories by the company of death wherever he goes. A vampire never haunts.

As a member of the undead, I have come to discredit the supernatural completely since I am part of it and quite frankly, there's nothing supernatural about me.
I have lived for 700 years in various places, I have accumulated wealth and death and...that's that.

                      (painting by Benjamin Lacombe)


The story I'm about to narrate is different from the ones I usually tell, because the victim and pray is not some juicy, seduced youth but yours truly. In fact, to my utter disappointment, and I am sure to yours too, this story has no end since I am in still in the midst of it and have not decided how to proceed.

It all started a year ago.

After 20 years in the beautiful town of Sicamore feeding on the local folk and killing a few of them too, I felt it was time to either leave or die, and due to the fortunate fact that I hadn't died for a few decades, I decided the latter. Nothing fancy, a rather painless and unnotable death of accidentally jumping off the wuthering cliff at the edges of the city. I know it is rather dramatic, but it is the way women usually choose to go.
I had already done my search for a humble lodging where I could stay low for some time until it was time to move freely again.

The humble lodging in question is a forgotten, broken house in the middle of nowhere, one I found derelict, mouldy, all-surrendered to the nature around it.
I know what you think, this is definitely not a place for someone like me, yet, do not forget that my initial plan was to rest underground so I really couldn't care less of its aesthetic value.

Upon arrival, I noticed the small cemetary at the back of the house, but this was common practice in the old days and since I have nothing against the deceased, being a close relative of theirs, I made my small hole right next to them so that they could keep me company. 
On the very first night fall I felt all restless so I decided to look around what was left of the house which wasn't much to begin with.

So here I am sitting in a gutted, smelly, upholstered chair in the roofless living room, looking up at the sky go pale and then black, then the little stars popping here and there. I know you like that kind of thing too but don't get too comfy because then, one by one, they appeared out of thin air.

A young, silvery woman appeared right in front of me. My jaw dropped an inch.
She stares at me and raises an arm. I gasp as she slowly opens her mouth. Thick gore oozes to the floor. Did I scream? I really don't know and I hate to think that I did.
The young woman smiles at me and moves closer. An invisible something slashes at her wrists and she bleeds. Instictively I feel drawn to the blood dripping in front of me and I move a little but
just then a man materialises on my left. The woman is still looking at me.
The man has a big gunhole in his chest. So big it is, I can see the remnants of the fireplace behind him. The man fills me with disgust, his face is distorted, a fiendish face it is. It reminds of gargoyles and hell.

I try to collect my wits, I can taste the fear in my mouth and blood; I bit my own tongue. I start to move wishing to leave, to run perhaps but I cannot. Something mighty is pinning me to the damn chair. How terrifying this is.

"I cannot die." I say aloud. My voice is broken and smells of death.
"You cannot harm me." My voice falls to a whisper.
"You cannot harm me."

Then I see something silvery move in the dark. It moves until it comes under the broken roof. A young boy it is, not older than 10. And then all the blood I had in me retrieved in the most secret place of my body leaving me cold and helpless; for the boy has no jaw. His face is....
He walks towards me and what is that in his hand? A knife?
“What is this?” I shouted.
The boy looked at me full of muted accusations.
“I didn't do any of this.” I shouted.
The boy wants to hand me the knife. I can see his exposed tongue move, is he trying to speak?
I stretch my hand going for the knife but there's nothing there to take. My arm remains outstretched.

We all stay like this till morning. When the first sun rays hit the floor they all disperse and then I can move again.

It's been like this every night for the past year. You might be wondering why I stay but the truth is that I don't know. I have never felt so weak and helpless in my whole existence and to be honest, it reminds me of my living days when my father used to come from work drunk and take it out on me and my mother. I was that scared back then.

I know it is pathetic to have something like this make you feel alive again but there you are.

I didn't know it could be and I still don't understand how it is.

And that is the end of my story.

I love you.

"Talk no more about love

'cause love is everywhere

in our hearts, in our eyes

it's eating our lips

it's feeding on our eyes

and when we would have suffered enough

love will say 'goodmorning'

and then love will leave us

and will come back again

and everything will start all over.

Yesterday it was a dream,

golden rain.

Yesterday was the sea,

seagulls dancing with the morning.

Now it's silence,

now it's oblivion

and death

and it seems that the sky

extinguished all the blinking stars.

Your master is inside me now

but we have each other,

and you will never die.

Sleep tight little dolly

you have me now

talk no more about love

because your master's love is now within me

and I will love you always."

Affected. A story written by 12-year-old Ageliki.

A happy family lived in Boston in 1970. Every day, dad, mum and their daughter Alicia spent their time happily. Despite the girl being a teenager, her behaviour was very good.
She had long, blond hair and pretty blue eyes. Her cheeks was light pink and her lips were full and red.
The family was very polite but they didn't go to church and the girl hadn't been baptised. They believed in good but not specifically in God.
One day they girl felt very sick so her parents called the doctor. The doctor said that it was just a cold and it would pass in a few days.
But the doctor was wrong!
The girl was ill for one week. She started to change. Her beautiful eyes became big and red, her face turned wild and with many scars. When was talking, her voice was thunderous and angry, she knew everything about you, she could predict the future and she didn't sleep at all.

Her parents called the priest to come and see their child. When he arrived and saw the girl he said:
"Oh my God..It can't be. There is evil inside this child." Then he took an ancient paper and started reading it and reading it, all night, all day, all week.

The girl was swearing at him, she was throwing things and she was hitting him but the priest continued to read the paper. He was trying to take evil out of her.
Two weeks later the priest was reading the paper again. Suddenly the lights went on and off, outside it started to rain and an earthquake happened. A minute later all the things stopped and the girl fell down and slept quietly all through the night. The next morning the girl was normal again. The priest had taken evil out of her.
The parents thanked the priest and they baptised their daughter because they know that God could protect her.

The white Chariot.

There were only a few people who would argue the case of Mrs Elliot and even fewer who would question her beauty.
The daughter of a third class merchant, Adele, was taught by her father that personal security and prosperity are the highest goals in one's life. Needless to say that his  rules were almost as tight as Adele's corsets, leaving no room for breathing, let alone talking. At the tender age of sixteen, she found herself married to twenty-six years older Mr Henry Elliot, the local tycoon and slave driver, a charming upper-class womaniser who happily took Adele under his wing.

In the ten years of their marriage, Mr Elliot has turned richer, fatter and more disreputable than ever before, yet Adele's efflorescence has stunned the populace beyond repair.

The blasphemous cretin; he is the only one her beauty never touched, the only one who can ignore her adorableness, the only one not dazzled by her light. He is partial to bedding the filthy harlots of the harbour, and go to his wife drunk and begrimed whom she accepts without expostulation.
The word has it that it is because she never gave him an heir for his cotton factory. Barren, infertile, sterile they call her out of jealousy and spite but I know.

I know that I am the only one who can fill her womb with life. My seed inside of her will produce a dozen strong sons and a fairy daughter for I am young and full of burning love,
I am the one who knows.

(Lady Alice Mary Kerr, Portrait of Wilfrid Scawen Blunt c1870)


Who am I?

"Hello cousin!" she says whenever I find the courage to reveal my presence to her.
"Adele." I whisper and bow to peck her icy, gloved hand. Our eyes meet and then she pulls away.
"I intend to call on you and your husband..."
"But you never do.."
"I..."
"You don't like him..you never did."
"Maybe when he is absent.." I mutter.
"I do not think that's possible cousin.." she says and pulls away. I watch her as she turns round the corner.

If only was strong enough to kill the bloody beast.


In my sleepless nights, she walks into my room and lays next to me. I wrap my arms around her and keep her warm. Her belly is swollen and her breasts are ripe. She's mine and we are together. The room is breaking at the seams, the windows burst open and sweet, night breeze creeps under our sheets. She sighs softly and I weep.
If only I was strong enough for her, strong enough to kill the bloody beast.

I start to follow him at nights, I find no rest in my own room. So it happens that he is more corrupted then I thought; he gambles, drinks and smokes together with a throng of whores.

I sit at a table opposite him and in my head his neck bleeds dry, I see his eye sockets crack and empty on his vest, his guts already hung outside to dry.

(Claude Monet - Houses of Parliament)

I decided to rent a room in the building that faces her house. That way I will find out more about his daily habits. From my bedroom window I can see her silhouette walking back and forth. He's there beside her, her head is bowed, she nods and leaves...with tears no doubt.

Tonight she came into the bed and talked to me, she's never uttered a word before, only sighs and tiny sounds escaped her lips. Tonight she called my name.
"Wilfrid..." she said, not cousin Wilfrid. I am taking this as a sign.

The corset leaves deep marks on her pale flesh..
"I don't want you to wear this thing ever again...not ever, you are with me now.."
..............................................................................

It was midday when I heard his shouts, the window was open. He was screaming at her. I have discovered that he does this often, however, this time he is out of his right mind. Again not a sound from her. The maid sped to shut the windows and saw me staring in. I know she's seen me before but I don't care, I will be her master someday whether she likes it or not.

My spirit is dead, my fist shatters against the wall, I'd rather jump out of the window and die that endure this pain.  I lean and prepare to let go and right then I see something I had never laid eyes on before;
a white, riderless chariot with two white steeds is galloping on the High street below, whiter than the clouds, fastest that thought and then I just knew what I had to do and suddenly I felt strong.

There were only a few people who would argue the case of Mrs Elliot and even fewer who would question the brutal circumstances of her husband's death.

The local newspaper gnawed on Mr Elliot's severed limbs for months, even though  his murderer, or 'butcher' as the locals call him, remains obscure. Mr Elliot's head was found floating in stinking river Fleet while his torso and leg were scavenged by dogs in an alley near the flesh market. His two arms and left leg are still missing though. Even the butcher himself doesn't know why they haven't been recovered yet though, truth be told, he couldn't care less.

All the sawing, biting, flaying and gutting...Mr Elliot WAS a very beefy man you see... was worth it...she was worth it and she still is.

At the funeral, Mrs Elliot looked absolutely devastated in the arms of her beloved cousin, the only family she has left since the death of her beloved mother a few months earlier. Wilfrid has made all the necessary arrangements so that Adele is comforted, entertained and though she doesn't know it, she will grow in love with him and soon grow out of her corsets too...that is after all the miracle of love and the omnipotence of persistence.

La double vie de Veronique