Invitation to Mina from the Count

Renouncing heaven was easy
once I heard they renounced you.

A heaven that mandates
who and how I should love,
a heaven that deems you unworthy
has no hold on me.

The only hell I fear
is eternity with no hope
of seeing you again.

So I amassed these petty atrocities,
strung them together, like the pearls
that nestle around your irresistible throat.

Each bloody jewel
gave me another moment, another chance
to find you again, truest jewel of my heart.

Did you expect me to apologize for that?
No, dear Mina, I’d fill ballrooms with such pearls
if it meant you could remember
a time you loved me as much.

That doesn’t matter now—your remembering—
all that matters is I’ve found you.
We will make new memories.

I’ll forgive and forget everything,
including the little fool fluttering around you
(as if he could possibly know you
the way I once did).

You must have been lonely too. I understand.
I’ll always forgive you,
only you,
my Mina.

There is nothing you could demand from me,
no penance or perversion too vile,
that I would not cheerfully perform

if you would just take my hand again,
accept the life I remade
for us,
and smile for me, 

only me, 

again.

Scene from 1992's Bram Stoker's Dracula

Song Choice: What else, but Love Song for a Vampire by Annie Lennox

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Friday Writing's prompt given at Poets and Storytellers United, Toxic Love. I've been lucky enough never to deal with anything truly toxic in my love life, so I decided to take some inspiration from a story, specifically the 1992 film, Bram Stoker's Dracula. Drinking the blood of a bunch of people for hundreds of years and being obsessive/ possessive definitely puts him in the problematic boyfriend camp. 😂

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Worthy Battle

My monster must feed
on heart-bloodied bits
of memories
when battles were chosen
because honestly loving
demanded no less.

Photo by Neil Rosenstech on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice:  Héroe by Enrique Iglesias

Monster Heart

Here is my monstrous
heart. I remember
when bile didn’t mix with blood
as it traveled through
un-gouged walls.

I don’t trust it
not to alarm the unwary
with its feral beat
and shadow roaring
reverberating around old scar tissue.


But I will trust you, always,
with the truth of the stories
behind each scab and bloodied bit,

because this truth,
odd and unshapely,
is the most precious thing
I have to give.

Photo by Dušan Veverkolog on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Broken But Beautiful by Kelly Clarkson

Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt given at Poets and Storytellers United. I chose to work with the phrase "Love can be a monster, or not."

Something True

Later she wondered how the needle came to her in the first place. Surely something that powerful would never have been tossed in the trash. Was it an accident? Still, she had never heard of any Legitimus wielding power like this. The theory that made her smile was that maybe it was a combination of the needle and some spark in her, something more powerful than even a Legitmus could wield.

She found it on a cold night, rummaging through the trash. Shouts of ‘Mendacium’ were accompanied by the usual hurled objects and she fled, taking what she salvaged, none of them big enough for a blanket. Then she saw the needle. A pull on a ragged edge got her the thread she needed to stitch the bits together. The resulting blanket was the warmest she’d ever felt.

Next she tried making it into a coat. It was more beautiful than the blanket. She wasn’t surprised when a Legitimus accosted her, demanding to know how trash like her had such a thing.

That’s when the true power revealed itself. A portion that was part of an animal pelt tingled. When she struck back it was with a lion’s paw, leaving a bloody claw mark on his chest. She didn’t remember too much afterwards, but when it was over she sewed in new bits of cloth and bone. Those made her stronger too.

After that, she started frequenting the fight arenas. There was no shortage of cloth and bone there. She wept over the discarded corpses, but took the choicest scraps—skulls, wings—even an ogre’s eye and a lion’s head to match that first piece.

She knew when Legitimus mothers whispered to their children about a monster they were talking about her. Good. She understood there had always been fear behind their contempt. But now here was something true for them to fear.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Emperor of the Dawn
Quincy Washington
Used with Permission

Song Choice: Dirty Paws by Monsters and Men

This flash fiction piece was created for Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads' Art Flash 55 and Poets United's Telling Tales with Magaly Guerrero. 

Closet Monster

I wish you believed

I lived under the bed.

Dust bunnies aren’t bad

conversationalists, once

you get them talking.

and there’s a better variety

of books and toys there.

Of course it isn’t you

who decided I’d be a resident

of closets and nightmares.

Your parents did that.

Create something to fear

and you create obedience.

But what if you weren’t afraid?

What if you liked looking

into all the dark spaces

and asking hard questions

with complex answers?

What if you learned

to trust yourself in the dark?

Then child, you’d know not to fear

me. You’d have your own teeth

and voice to make the world listen.

  

Until then, I’ll pass the time

with your special occasion clothes,

giving the occasional growl

so you’ll hear how it should be done.

Song Choice: Goodnight Demon Slayer by Voltaire 

This poem was created by the prompt I gave over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: The Boogeyman. It is also linked to Poets United: Poetry Pantry 351

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Odd Girls: A Halloween Treat

From time to time I like to record some of the poems I write. The most recent Prompt Nights had Halloween as it's theme and I remembered a fun piece I created back in April that really suited it well, Odd Girls. I had so much fun re-reading it, I thought it'd be fun to record it and share it again in time for Halloween. Just click on the link below to listen to the poem. Enjoy!

Odd Girls

Come and play where the odd girls go.

Come, play the games that only they know.

Fall down, follow down, do come soon.

Come play along in the light of the moon.

Follow me, follow me to the forest where it’s dark.

Don’t be afraid of the teeth that are sharp,

for I have sharp teeth of my own,

and those that bite me will never go home.

Come and play where the odd girls go.

Come, play the games that only they know.

Fall down, follow down, do come soon.

Come play along in the light of the moon.

Please come play. I have stories to tell,

ones that are familiar and some you don’t know so well.

Stories like wind through ancient bones.

Stories that cause screaming in stones.

Come and play where the odd girls go

Run to the place between delight and woe.

Some come home, wiser than they left

and some linger on as permanent guests. 

Song Choice: Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Odd Girls

Come and play where the odd girls go.

Come, play the games that only they know.

Fall down, follow down, do come soon.

Come play along in the light of the moon.

Follow me, follow me to the forest where it’s dark.

Don’t be afraid of the teeth that are sharp,

for I have sharp teeth of my own,

and those that bite me will never go home.

Come and play where the odd girls go.

Come, play the games that only they know.

Fall down, follow down, do come soon.

Come play along in the light of the moon.

Please come play. I have stories to tell,

ones that are familiar and some you don’t know so well.

Stories like wind through ancient bones.

Stories that cause screaming in stones.

Come and play where the odd girls go

Run to the place between delight and woe.

Some come home, wiser than they left

and some linger on as permanent guests. 

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Creepy Doll by Jonathan Coulton 

This post is in response to a prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Eerie Nursery Rhymes

The Opposite of Indifference

Yuuki yawned, opened his eyes, and again was amused by the pains taken to make the room look more like a guest suite than a hospital. He supposed there must be some initial comfort to the humans who entered here, but looking at the young couple’s tired and strained faces, he imagined whatever soothing effects the pastel print wallpaper or ruffled duvet offered were forgotten hours ago.

He helped himself to a discarded glass of water, hoping it wouldn’t be much longer. Yuuki had never been to a human birth before, even though he had plenty of opportunity. Births were reminders he was still a captive, still bound to a family he detested and who grew to detest him back. Hatred eventually faded to forgetfulness on the humans’ part.

Yuuki could never forget – there was no getting around the oath he swore - though he too had let go of hate, for the most part, decades ago. His oath required him to serve one hundred generations of this family, whether they acknowledged his existence or not. Three centuries to the day he made his promise the newest in the family line was about to make her grand entrance.

“Do you know how many of your kin’s deaths I’m responsible for, small one?” Yuuki said out loud. 

No one in the room noticed, as none had the skill to hear him. Though one nurse must have had a small sensitivity to fae creatures as she gave a tiny shudder and crossed herself after he spoke.

Yuuki smirked under his kitsune’s mask, pleased to see any reaction, even a small one. Being ignored for over a century was demoralizing. If the nurse could truly see him, kimono clad with a sharp toothed smile painted on his fox’s mask, she’d probably run out of the room screaming prayers. So would the young man holding the hand of his laboring wife. It was not an unwise choice when dealing with kitsune.

But fae-blind Fernando had never once in his life seen Yuuki for what he was, and likely never would. Yuuki slumped on a plump chair, resting his face in his hand and addressed an unaware Fernando. “To be fair, I’m responsible for saving a few lives too, as well as helping you look away from your books long enough to find a woman to create this one.” Yuuki nodded towards Angela’s swollen belly. “Fernando you are a good, but sublimely boring and unimaginative man. I don’t hate you, but I certainly won’t miss you. Hopefully your spawn will be somewhat more interesting, though that is hardly a high bar to reach.”

By the fussing of the various hospital staff and yelling coming from Angela, Yuuki realized the time had come at last. A few moments later, what looked like a slimy gore and membrane covered raisin emerged and shrieked her first cries into the world. The staff jumped to clean off most of the mess, and once that was done, laid the child in her mother’s arms.

“God has been good to us Angela,” Fernando said.

Yuuki rolled his eyes behind his mask. “You’d never have met your wife if it wasn’t for me. I’ll let you call me Jesus Christ if you promise to give me some sake every now and again. Or tea. I’ll accept tea,” he said.

“He has. Look at our little princesita  Fernando, our little princess,” Angela said.

“I’m a lucky man," Fernando said, stroking the fuzzy patch of  hair on the baby's head. "I've always felt like I've had more than my fair share of good fortune. But whatever luck or divine grace has guided me to this moment, I wish it all go to our little Ana. May whatever saint or guardian angel that has been watching over me give themselves completely to the care of her. I want nothing else from life.”

Yuuki felt a strange shift at Fernando’s words. He looked from him to the baby girl and realized that his time protecting Fernando had come to an end.

“If you wish for a diaper change, I am not doing it. That is still your parents’ job,” he said, making a horrible face appear on his mask.

The girl child looked up at Yuuki and smiled. Yuuki blinked and waved his hand in front of her. A tiny fist grasped his finger tight.

“You see me,” Yuuki whispered.

“Look at that Fernando,” Angela said. “Our girl is smiling!”

“It’s not a real smile,” one nurse said. “She’s too young for that. It’s likely gas.”

“It’s not gas, you simpleton,” Yuuki said as the nurse walked out of the room. “This girl sees me. After all these years…”

When a plush fox doll appeared among the gifts for Angela and Fernando’s new daughter, no one noticed it among the sea of toys that arrived from family and friends. By the time she could walk, it was a joke among her family that you could offer her the fanciest doll in the world, but the only thing that could calm her was that toy fox. Once she was old enough to talk, Ana practiced most of her new skills babbling to her favorite toy.  The plush fox presided over every tea party Ana held, though she insisted on serving real tea instead of pretending over empty cups.

“Tell me again about the day I was born,” Ana often asked.

“You were covered in blood and guts, not minding it a bit. And you were smiling. That is how I knew we would be friends,” Yuuki always replied.

"Cool," Ana said.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood

This blog post is part of May Monster Madness, hosted this year by Little Gothic Horrors, Magaly Guerrero, Holly's Horrorland, Maynard's Horror Movie Diary, and Not This Time, Nayland Smith. Be sure to follow the link and enjoy more monstrous fun with the other party goers. 

Singing in the Heart of the Labyrinth

He says the sound of my voice

striking fear into mortals

are the loveliest shrieks he’s heard,

worthy of slaying kings.

He’s built out a special part of his labyrinth,

to make the acoustics perfect for my practice.

I spend my mornings serenading him

while he plots the doom of hapless adventurers.

Some mornings my throat is sore;

then he brings me tea and honey.

Some mornings concocting traps vexes him;

then I bring him coffee,

rubbing his head and horns,

offering my ideas for mayhem.

Certainly, a few of his ways are strange.

I still am getting used to his eating customs.

But I know wherever my minotaur is

in these winding paths,

that is the heart of the labyrinth to me.

This cute Highland Minotaur sculpture was made by Kelsey Wailes.

See more of her whimsical creations (including some fun geek culture stuff) 

at her store on Etsy, Eat Toast. 

Song Choice: Evil Love from Phineas and Ferb

This poem was created in response to the prompt given by Magaly Guerrero's Dark Poetry for the Cruelest Month: Legendary Beings In Love.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Fangs, Sheathed

The scratch of colored pencil on paper was the only sound in Grandmother Amaryllis’s conservatory. Xander sat beside one the massive pillars that framed the center of the indoor garden. The moonlight shone through the glass ceiling on hundreds of exotic night blooming flowers from around the world, but he only had eyes for the Arctia caja he was sketching.

Xander stopped to examine the shadow of the moth’s wing as it sat on the flower of a sprawling Queen of Night plant. He pulled out 5 different hues of purple, appraising each until he settled on one and blended it into the matching shadow in his sketchbook. Satisfied, he flipped to an earlier attempt to draw the same moth, before Mother noticed his interest and gifted him with the professional quality colored pencils. There was no doubt; he had grown better, just as she said he would.

He started contemplating shades of cream when a howl shattered the peace of the conservatory.

Emma, he thought, gritting his teeth. She and Grandmother must have returned from their outing. There went any chance of finishing this properly – unless Grandmother distracted her with something. Maybe she would. He took a deep breath, went back to his drawing when a second howl knifed through his ears, followed by an agitated Grandmother Amaryllis.

Her dark eyes found Xander’s. “I cannot believe how ungrateful your sister is!”

Xander didn’t say a word. He wondered why adults said these things. It’s not as if Emma hatched from a cocoon last night and the whole family hadn’t endured a century’s worth of her tantrums, her whining, or her leaving half eaten body parts lying about.

Grandmother Amaryllis cleared her throat, letting Xander know a response was expected. “What has she done now?” he asked.

“Well, I had such a lovely evening planned. We went to her favorite café. I bought her a doll.”

Spoiled brat, thought Xander.

“And then when we arrived at the dentist’s office, she just about embarrassed me completely!” Grandmother said.

“The dentist?”

“Yes,” she said. “I know she can be difficult there, so I just didn’t tell her until we arrived.”

“Um, Grandmother, are you sure that was wise?”

She gave him a withering look. “What was I supposed to do? Emma tantrums even when it’s a normal appointment. I could only imagine what she would have done if she knew she was getting braces. Thank goodness I told them to have extra sedative on hand. I had to pay extra for the sharpshooters, but it was worth it. She was out for the whole thing.”

Another howl interrupted Grandmother Amaryllis.

“But she’s awake now,” Xander said.

“She’ll thank me later – I told her that – when she has a nice smile like yours she’ll be properly grateful.”

Xander started packing away his art supplies.

“Xander, darling, if you are leaving could you find Bradford and have him bring me a restorative? I am simply worn out. Tell him to bring it to my sitting room”

Xander nodded and then went to look for his sister.

She was slumped, sobbing by the statue of Vlad the Impaler in the foyer. Xander reached out and touched her shoulder. She drew away snarling.

“Braces, Xander, braces! They’re awful and they hurt and how am ever going to bite anything again? I’ll have to have blood in a cup, like some kind of toddler and I’ll never strike fear into anything like that!” She howled again.

“Emma, take it easy. Yeah, Grandmother should have told you first but –“

“But what? She just wants me to be just like you, and I’m not. I’m me. And I don’t want braces!”

“There’s nothing in the world, not braces, not even Grandmother that can stop you from being you. You’re kind of annoying like that. And you’ll be able to hunt again. There’s a bit of a trick to getting the blood out, and it will be messy at first, but I’ll show you how. We can go hunting tonight even,” Xander said.

“Will it be terribly messy?” she asked, sitting up. “With blood everywhere? And screaming?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes," he said. "It will take a little longer so there will be a lot of mess and screaming.”

“Let’s go now!”

“No, first I have to tell Bradford to get Grandmother a snack. Then I am I going to finish up my drawing.”

Emma crossed her arms. “Weird bug pictures again?” she said.

“Moths. And they’re not weird they’re awesome. And no complaining while I finish or we won’t go anywhere.”

“I guess that’s fair. As long as you don’t to talk me about them until I fall asleep. No more naps tonight.”

“Actually, I was going to talk to them and you won’t fall asleep, you’ll learn something,” he said, offering his hand to help her stand up. “Did you know some of the moths in the Saturniidae family are considered pests, while some make silk? One genus is poison to the touch.”

Emma took Xander's hand and got up. “OK, you can tell me about the poison one, but that’s it," she said. And together they walked back to the conservatory.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Dance Little Sister by Terrence Trent D'Arby

Author's Note: This story can certainly be read alone, but readers might find the earlier installments in Xander and Emma's story, Like Kids in a Candy Store and Tea With Grandmother, enjoyable as well.