Mongweet: The Mosquito Vampire. And Other Short Stories.

By John Bartlett

"Mongweet: The Mosquito Vampire. And other Short Stories." is a collection of eight, adult short stories of mixed genre, macabre and action.

"Mongweet, The Mosquito Vampire": A stressed-out woman gets bit by a mosquito and morphs into a creature that loses her sense of morality and threatens the lives of her family. Have you ever been so stressed out that you made monstrous decisions?

"Skullduggery": A motorcycle biker, down on his luck, gets caught in a scheme of drugs, money and murder. Is there someone you care enough about that you would do anything for, even murder?

"The Tarot Hypnotist": A tarot card reader hypnotizes her client during a card reading and follows her into unknown spiritual territory, as she deals with her own fears. Have you made the decision that there is a spiritual dimension?

"Moon Man": A father tries to protect his son in a forest cabin from a creature spawned by energy from the moon. Where do YOUR children's monsters come from?

"Jacob's Laughter": Young man believes that he has outsmarted the devil, but the last laugh may be on him. Your true beliefs come out when you're ashamed.

"Bank Vault Aliens": Bank manager uncovers a secret plot in an alien labyrinth that explains the insane condition of the world today. Remember those childhood dreams of yours? Maybe they were real.

"Woof Man": After a terrible battle to the death, a faithful dog transforms into the master. Are your actions as moral as your words?

"Zombies: The Exhibition": A married couple goes out for a pleasant night at the museum, but bizarre life can flourish in unexpected places. Express your true feelings before they express themselves to you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Bartlett
• Release date: Aug 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311767493

John Bartlett

John Bartlett is a long time student of psychology and martial artist. He grew up in Los Angeles County, La Puente, California and now lives in Clallam County, Port Angeles, Washington--From the city of angels to the port of angels.John has had several work experiences from; mental-health counselor, social worker, hypnotherapist, martial arts sensei, locksmith, construction framer, car and motorcycle salesman, to working on a farm and horse ranch. Then all the way up the hierarchy to janitor. The consistency in these various settings is found in his search for freedom and equality. Rarely found privileges. These experiences help him create characters in settings that give his stories authentic and diverse perspectives. He writes to express the feelings of the common person. Life is varied and so is his writing. He does not write for one genre only, but writes what comes to mind and what moves him.Life is about learning, and John's stories, whether horror, sci-fi, action, drama, or whatever, state some lesson that we learn in life, or what happens when we do not learn."Once upon a time, I thought I would write serious self-help books and 'realistic' short stories. But we have deeper learning experiences from metaphores expressed in stories, because metaphores sync with our internal natures. I feel that I am continuously dreaming, although not aware of the dream archetypes when awake, and so when I'm writing, my subconscious characters often want to take off and do something 'mythical.' So I let them."His philosophy: "Exercise, study, love."His ethics: "Respect, discipline, peace."Thank you.

Book preview

MONGWEET:

The Mosquito Vampire

And Other Short Stories

****

Copyright  2017 John Bartlett

About 30,000 words.

Edited by John Bartlett

All rights reserved.

No part this book may be reproduced without permission from the author.

Collection of eight adult fiction short stories of mixed genres.

Life is about learning, and these stories, whatever the genre, state some lesson that we learn in life, or what happens when we do not learn.

Please enjoy this entertaining ride of macabre, murder, monsters and love.

****

CONTENTS

MONGWEET The Mosquito Vampire

SKULLDUGGERY

THE TAROT HYPNOTIST

MOON MAN

JACOB’S LAUGHTER

BANK VAULT ALIENS

WOOF MAN

ZOMBIES The Exhibition

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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MONGWEET The Mosquito Vampire

Margaret awoke to the sound of a mosquito. It seemed terribly large, judging by the sound, the buzz, the deep loud humming sound moving from right to left, from over her head to the other side of the room. The side of her neck itched; she must have been bitten before she woke up. Margaret had finally gotten her eighteen-month-old son, Tyler, to bed and knew she had to get some sleep tonight. She might have been more apprehensive and curious about the unusually intense humming sound if she had not been so tired and frustrated with everything that has been going on in her life. Tom, her husband sleeping next to her, has been working long hours, sometimes late into the night, since Margaret was laid off two months ago. That did not help their relationship and it has been getting harder and harder to keep things together with the family. Now this, this stupid bug, was keeping her awake.

She started to dose again when she heard Tyler whining in the adjacent bedroom. Tyler has been wetting his bed again, like Margaret used to do until she was five and started kindergarten. Her mother had been less tolerant than she was. She heard the humming from somewhere across the room and was momentarily amused at how it seemed to be in harmony with Tyler's whining. As his whining increased, her amusement rolled into anger like stepping from an air-conditioned room into hot sunlight. She repressed an urge to tighten her fists, grit her teeth and let out a groan. That would feel so good, allow her to vent, to release her built up stress before going into her son's room. However, she ignored the urge by telling herself it was not necessary or appropriate.

It would be a big mistake to begin dealing with Tyler through anger, she thought. And I don’t want to wake Tom; he might wake up horny, and I’ve had enough sex for one night.

Margaret scratched her neck and found blood on her fingers. She licked the blood and went into Tyler’s bedroom, naked. She could have been pretty if her shoulders did not slump forward, and if her legs were not so skinny. She was twenty-eight, brunette, with brown eyes. Her skin was smooth and her breasts and hips were firm and nicely rounded. She had high cheekbones, a small chin and nose, a pleasant face except for the anger and dark ready-for-a-fight look in her eyes that disappeared when she was depressed, then the darkness and anger focused inward and left a dull luster over the irises.

Mommy’s here, Baby, she said softly to Tyler in a lullaby voice as she picked him up and held him against her breasts. Everything’s okay. We’ll clean you up and feed you, and give you whatever you need, Baby. Okay, Baby. Margaret was being comforted as much as Tyler was, maybe more. She felt his supple warmth against her skin, smelled his breath and his skin, and did not mind the urine smell that mingled with his young, potent body odor. She remembered her parents used to run around the house naked, late at night. Her mother was too lazy to dress, but her father had other motives.

She cleaned and fed her son. Even though she decided to quit breast-feeding months ago, she liked to let him suckle her occasionally; tonight it felt especially good. She actually got a little sexually excited, then imagined, only playfully, how good it would taste to take a bite out of his neck and smell the hot fluids spilling out around her mouth and nose. She put him back to bed.

Margaret wondered if her newly intensified feelings were caused by her pregnancy. She was two months pregnant and undecided about when, and how, to tell Tom. He had a vasectomy after Tyler was born.

Sleep good, Baby, she whispered. Mommy loves you.

The swelling on her neck did not keep her awake for long. She slept good and dreamt of happy things, like honeybees buzzing between the beautiful flowers in a garden of violet tulips. In the morning, she woke up refreshed, except for a stiff muscle around the mosquito bite. She must have been bitten again, right in the same spot, because the wound was larger now, like a single-fanged vampire sucked her blood. This pain and stiffness caused her to turn her torso along with her head to look around. With her hunched shoulders, this made her look like an insect ready to pounce.

Pancakes are ready, Margaret said as she pulled Tyler’s highchair up to the breakfast table. How many eggs do you want? she said to Tom. He was drinking coffee and reading the local paper.

Two, please, he said.

I like that you still read the paper, Honey, she said, but why don’t you just read it online? You have a laptop and smartphone.

Probably just an old habit, Tom said. I feel more in touch with the news. It seems more real and personal when I can feel the texture and crumplyness of the paper. And if it’s bad news, I can tear it up!

Tom was always physical. He was strongly built, with brown eyes and brown hair that got rather long before he thought of cutting it. He built model airplanes as a boy, but not to put on a shelf; he flew his models. Before he got into wireless, remote controlled planes, he used small, gas-powered motors to run the propellers, and hand controllers with string cables to control the wings. Later, he did his own mechanics on his motorcycles and then a ski boat. His latest large project was restoring a 1971 Plymouth Roadrunner.

It’s got Dodge’s famous 440 big-block motor with a 6-pack, Tom had explained to Margaret, who was actually interested, if only because of the excited school-boy look on Tom’s face, which means that it has three, two-barrel carburetors. He planned to keep it for a while, but had to sell it last week to pay some bills.

He worked at the shipping docks, loading and unloading containers. Tom ran a forklift and hand truck all day, and lately, into the night. He did not complain often, but it was wearing on him.

It’s going to be another long night, Tom said after he finished his pancakes and eggs. I don’t mind because of the overtime. It’s only for awhile, anyway. He forced a smile and kissed his wife and son before leaving for work. Take care of that bite, it looks pretty uncomfortable. His gaze fell from her neck to her breasts.

After he left, Margaret poured half the bottle of syrup onto her plate and sucked it off. She must have gotten a swollen taste bud in doing so, because now she felt a protuberance on the tip of her tongue.

Margaret was glad that Tom has been busy. It often kept him too tired at night for lovemaking. She liked being close to him, feeling him, looking at him, and of course, her favorite, smelling him. She would rub her nose in his hairy chest until she got sexually excited. They even made a game of it. She would cling tighter and tighter into his back with her nails, and press her nose harder into his chest the more excited she got, until her heart beat fast and her pheromones burst out of her pores. She wriggled, twisted and moaned, and clung even tighter. Then Tom would try to pry her off, pretending he did not like it, as though he was disgusted and trying to rid himself of a leech. They would wrestle like this and laugh long and hard before actually having sex. Sometimes they were so hedonistically involved, like mating animals, that they would fall off the bed in each other’s arms without making any human-like sounds, only grunts and moans.

But lately, Margaret only wanted his touch and smell. She never told her husband that she was not playing a game. Her father, Don, taught her how to make love, have sex, anyway. Don was bigger, more brutal, hairier and smellier than Tom. She felt anger and humiliation at the things Don had her do. These childhood feelings were barely under her conscious awareness, until lately. She felt self-loathing about