Blurred Visions

By Jeff Brown

It might be a trick of the light. Or it could be someone, something, hiding in the shadows. Reality isn't always what it appears to be. Perception isn't always clear. Sometimes the workd is deceptive, thing concealed by shadows, but the truth is always there. It's just not always the truth you want to see.

- Perhaps the vampire is just another serial killer, and perhaps not

- The sexy teacher is more than merely an exhibitionist

- Not all zombies are created in the same way

- The biker chick might be more than she seems

- The friendly co-worker might not really be your friend

- Technology might not be the answer to everything

 

Find out just how deceptive reality can be and witness the dark truth of what hides in the shadows of the mind and soul. These seventeen stories will show you that reality can be blurred by the truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff Brown
• Release date: Jun 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201627720

Jeff Brown

Jeff Brown created the beloved character of Flat Stanley as a bedtime story for his sons. He has written other outrageous books about the Lambchop family, including Flat Stanley, Stanley and the Magic Lamp, Invisible Stanley, Stanley’s Christmas Adventure, Stanley in Space, and Stanley, Flat Again! You can learn more about Jeff Brown and Flat Stanley at www.flatstanleybooks.com.

Book preview

Blurred Visions

An Anthology

Jeff Brown

Other Works by Jeff Brown

Vampire War Series:

Nemesis

Corruptor

Dark Nation

Fallout

Resistance

Ascension

The Princess Agenda:

Revelations

Rescue

Exposition

Development

Recapitulation

The Last Mage series:

The Last Mage

In The Dark

The New Kid

Seven Wishes

Storm Warning

Dead Time Books I & II

The Revolt

Reunion

Campus Crusade

Finding Suraya

Second Chances

Retaliation

Vessels

Refugees

The Veteran

Thirst

Special Thanks

Jamie Adams, Jodi Albritton , DeAnna Allen, Kevin Barr, Jo Renee M. Bass, Karen Bates, Suraya Birkhoff, Kayla Bruce, Ramona Burrow, Michael Collins, Faith Cooper, Stacey W. Day, Rachel D. Fagan, Catherine Farrell-Kelly, Kim B. Farris, Lynn B. Greene, Johanna Gremillion, Monique Hibbs, Pam C. Hopkins, Dorothy Howell, Angela Jones, Eugene Lee, Magan McClellan, Scott McGehee, Regina C. McGovern, Tommy McMorris, Victor Merritt, Jennifer Miller, Pete Mullens, Brittany Ollie, Carol Price, Myra Reeves, Jodie Regan, Mandie Ritchie, Linda Roberts, Francis Rodriguez, Braxton Rushing, LaTisha Rushing, Eric Schilling, Melinda Slemaker, Penny Slemaker, Theresa D. Smith, Susan Solomon, Chris Starnes, Cheri Stringer, Melissa Summersell, Steve Vowell, Melissa Wallace, Chris Waller, Sydney Woodson, Tammy M. Wright

Additional Thanks

THANKS TO MELISSA SUMMERSELL for the use of yet another incredible cover photo. She has a great eye, but an even better voice. Check her out at www.melissasummersell.com

A Taste of Blood

Halloween in New Orleans was the second biggest party the city hosted, second only to Mardi Gras. People filled the streets of the French Quarter and spilled over into the surrounding areas, most dressed in elaborate or almost-too-revealing costumes, and the alcohol flowed freely and plentifully as it always did in New Orleans. Music filled the air, emanating from the open doorways of each bar along Bourbon Street, creating a miasma of sound that felt almost palpable to each passerby, enticing some to enter and others to continue on their way. Between those open doorways, the music became muted and was overpowered by the throngs of people cavorting and yelling drunkenly to someone who was apparently not listening.  Most of them were staggering in the street, blocked off to traffic as it always was, leaving the sidewalks almost vacant.

Frank Valente took advantage of the near-chaos and strode along the sidewalk almost casually, heading toward the darkened end of the street, where the final block of strip clubs gave way to a fairly decrepit section of urban sprawl. He wasn’t interested in that area just yet. He had work to do first.

Frank was a tall man, just over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a runner’s physique, lean and sleek. His coal black hair was slicked back with hair gel to an exaggerated Widow’s Peak and his face, sharp and angular, was covered in a thin layer of greenish-white makeup to go along with his black pants, pristine white shirt, and red velvet-lined black cape, giving him the appearance of a traditional movie-type vampire. A narrow stripe of red at the left side of his thin, wide, mouth represented the blood that suggested he’d already consumed his prey for the night. He knew it was hokey, but it somehow just seemed to fit with the atmosphere of the night and his plans.

The sound of his hard-soled black shoes, polished to a reflective sheen, was overpowered by the steady roar of the crowd and the cacophony of intermingled musical styles. He ignored all that and kept his bright green eyes focused on his task, looking around quickly and carefully.

He was, like the vampire, on the hunt for prey.

His job as a typesetter for the city’s primary newspaper kept him in the loop and let him know in advance what the authorities knew about the serial killer that had been plaguing New Orleans for several months. The method used to kill the victims had earned him the nickname of The Vampire Killer. Frank liked that and had quickly adopted it. Unlike most serial killers that he knew about, he’d so far made no attempt to contact the police and flaunt his ability to remain at large.

He took precautions, knowing what the police and their forensics unit would look for, and he felt completely safe in continuing his operations just as they were.

He didn’t know why he did it or why he’d started. He’d been raised in a stable home and had been given every opportunity imaginable. He was the definition of white privilege, but he didn’t see that it had done anything for him other than make him a little biased toward those that claimed he reached his position because of his skin color and not the work he’d put in. He had worked hard to get that far in life, struggling through a college degree in Journalism that hadn’t yet paid off and fighting his way up the corporate ladder from his beginning as a mail clerk. He considered that it had something to do with his extracurricular activities, taking quite a bit of attention away from his job. He just wanted to prove himself and he believed it to be the only way he could do that. He planned to eventually find someone, most likely a homeless person, to pin the murders on and take full credit for the discovery, earning him a promotion that would then lead to his becoming a true journalist.

He walked slowly along the wide sidewalk, his posture expressing confidence, his demeanor expressing a desire to be left alone, and it worked. He wasn’t bothered as he strode along, his eyes scanning the crowd for the perfect woman, the ideal victim. There were plenty to choose from, but he was looking for one in particular, one that stood out from the rest. Many of them were clad in traditional costumes, zombies and such, but that didn’t interest him. Others were scantily clad, revealing nearly as much flesh as the women in the strip clubs lining the street, but they were focused on the party and were working hard to get laid.  He was in need of someone that looked ready to be seduced.

He soon focused on a tall redhead that was showing quite a bit of cleavage and a lot of ass. She was dressed as some sort of barbarian warrior in a brown leather bra and something akin to a loincloth that was more thong than anything else. He looked at her analytically and knew her garments would be easy to remove, taking less time, and that was a big benefit. She was walking in the middle of the street, apparently alone, with a large plastic cup of some green liquid and a lit cigarette in the other. She wasn’t loud, but she was flaunting what she had.

After a moment and nearly a block of following her, she turned her back to him and garnered the attention of several males walking in the opposite direction by lifting the front of her loincloth. His eyes narrowed as he focused on her exposed buttocks and the sight brought a frown to his face. Her ass sagged quite a bit, but he continued staring as she turned around and exposed her uncovered crotch to him and the others around him. The frown became a scowl as he saw the tangled mess of dark red hair between her legs. He shifted his gaze to her upper body and her face. That one look told him all he needed to know. She was too old for him, probably in her early fifties, and her body was a little too loose for what he liked.

Shaking his head, he moved on. All of his other woman had been young, barely into their twenties, with firmer bodies. He actually preferred those that were athletic or at least appeared to have at least done some work in a gym. Thankfully, New Orleans had an abundance of women like that. They just typically appeared at events like that in groups, making it more difficult to get one alone without being noticed.

Still, there were always loners, the women that wanted the attention and didn’t have a flock of like-minded women to accompany them. Those were the ones he looked for and knew he could handle.

Trying not to look suspicious, though he was sure no one was paying attention to him in such a standard, bland costume, he continued looking at the available women. A scowl creased his features a few moments later as he began to see that the women in the area were all being accompanied by either a man or other women. It looked like he would be out of luck for the Halloween festivities and that didn’t quite fit in with his plans or the future of the Vampire Killer.

Then, just as he was nearing the end of the street and his hopes of finding one more victim, he spotted her.

She was coming out of one of the strip clubs on his side of the street, one with a pair of legs, mechanical, swinging repeatedly from narrow gaps in the wall over the door. She didn’t look like one of the girls that worked there, or had worked there when he’d tried finding his victims from that particular group of people. That hadn’t worked out well at all.

This woman was exactly what he was looking for. She wasn’t overly tall and wasn’t what he would’ve called short. She was just right. Her blond hair, just a shade darker than platinum, fell in gentle waves halfway down her back. She was dressed in silver, a reflective bra and a thong, something he would’ve expected from a stripper, but she wasn’t wearing the platform shoes those women were required to wear. She wore heels, silver to match her outfit, that showed off the taut muscular structure of her lean legs. Her deeply tanned skin made the silver stand out even more. Her buttocks were nicely rounded, taut and firm, and the brief glimpse he’d received of her chest had shown him large, firm breasts. Her face, though, was exquisite. Cheeks that seemed almost sculpted, a slim nose, full lips that were an almost perfect Cupid’s bow, and the biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen made that face an absolute masterpiece. He had to have her and picked up his pace as she moved toward the corner and the end of the block that was the last without vehicular traffic.

He was within ten feet of her when she reached the corner and stopped, looking from left to right along the darkened side street as if she expected someone to be there. Seeing her looking confused and lost brought a smile to Frank’s face. His prey was practically isolated from the other revelers and seemed more than a little vulnerable. He cleared his throat and pushed the smile from his face, replacing it with an expression that he knew would convey concern.

With the expression set on his face, he moved up on her left and stopped beside her.

You look lost, he said, glancing at her and smiling as warmly as he could.

She gasped lightly surprised by his arrival, then relaxed a bit and shrugged, I guess. My friends were supposed to be waiting for me here, but I don’t see them.

He shrugged as well and said, Well, they’re pretty strict about traffic around here. You must be from out of town.

Does it show? she said and smiled lightly, somewhat embarrassed. Yeah, we’re from Utah on our way to Orlando. We thought it would be fun to experience Halloween in a really haunted city.

Frank nodded, New Orleans is definitely that. But it’s just another big party around here, like Mardi Gras with different costumes.

She faced him then and said, That’s really when I wanted to come here, but we couldn’t get away from school. It was before spring break.

That’s too bad, he continued to nod, thinking she was either a college girl or possibly a teacher. So, how’d you get separated from your friends?

She shook her head, hair flowing around her smooth cheeks and lean shoulders, They didn’t want to drink too much and went back to the hotel. Brandy, the one with the car, said she would be here at eleven-thirty and would wait here for me.

He nodded sympathetically and said, The cops probably wouldn’t let her park and traffic around here is awful. You might be better off walking back to your hotel. Which one is it? I can point you in the right direction.

The Bonaventure, she said. We weren’t there very long and I don’t remember exactly where it is.

He pointed toward the darkened street and said, The quickest way is that way. You go about eight blocks then turn left. Go three blocks and it’ll be on your right.

She looked into the darkness and frowned, It’s awfully dark out there.

He shrugged, Well, you could go back to Canal Street, turn right, go three blocks, and turn right again. That should take you right to it, but it’s a longer walk.

She shook her head, And my feet are killing me in these shoes.

Right, he said and faced her, leaning a little closer. Look, I’ll walk with you, just to make sure. Some pretty sketchy things go on out there at this time of night.

I don’t know, she said and frowned. It looks like you’d rather stay here with the party.

It’s no problem, he said and smiled again. This party will go on for hours and it’ll only take about half an hour to get there and back. And I don’t mind at all. I work for the local newspaper and I’d hate to have to work on another story about something happening to a tourist because I failed to help out a visitor to our city.

If you’re sure you don’t mind, she said, smiling shyly.

I don’t mind at all, he said. Whenever you’re ready.

Then let’s go, she said. I can’t wait to get out of these shoes.

He nodded and smiled again, feeling almost embarrassed about his constant nodding, but it seemed to work. She seemed somewhat relaxed and fairly comfortable with him. She folded her arms across her chest, pushing her large breasts upward a bit and closer together. He glanced at them frequently, but he really wanted to stare. He would do that soon enough anyway.

By the way, he said as they crossed the street and entered the darkness. I’m Frank Valente.

Nice to meet you, she chuckled a bit nervously. I’m Heather Beaulieu.

Beaulieu? he asked. Sounds like you could be a native.

She shrugged, My grandfather was from this area. I think it was Grand Isle.

Yeah, he nodded. I know the place. That’s cool.

She shrugged, I guess. I don’t know too much about it.

No big deal, he said. There’s not much left there, after Katrina. Let’s just worry about getting you back to your hotel.

Sounds good, she nodded. I’m ready to hit the bed. We’ve got one more day here and I’m going to spend most of it in the room. I probably won’t be able to walk anyway.

He nodded yet again, unsure of what to say. She seemed like such a nice girl and wasn’t at all aware of what had been going on in the city, what he’d been doing. It was almost too easy, but that meant he wouldn’t have to put so much effort into the kill and would be able to enjoy a little more of the night life before returning to his apartment to get ready for another day of work.

He was glad she didn’t know the area and hadn’t caught his lies about the location of the hotel. He did know where it was, but it was several miles away, well out of the central business district to the west. It would take hours to walk that far and, if she could handle it, she wouldn’t arrive until shortly before sunrise. But if everything went according to plan, she wouldn’t have to worry about making it back to that hotel at all.

She kept talking, but he didn’t really listen. She told him things about her life in Utah, mostly that she was a little older than he’d estimated. She wasn’t a college student, but she was a teacher, elementary school, and she apparently loved it. She went on about that for a few minutes and about her life in the town where she lived, but he didn’t say anything, just let her talk. It kept her from noticing their surroundings and kept her focused on something other than their path.

After a couple of blocks, he took her arm gently by the elbow and led her into the street.

There’s some bad stuff on this side up ahead, he said. We’ll be better on the other side of the street.

She just shrugged and allowed him to lead her.

He released his grip on her elbow once they were across the street and onto the sidewalk, which was much narrower than those in the traffic-free area, and he began to grow a bit anxious and excited. He shifted position so that Heather was closer to the wrought iron fence and he was closer to the street, making it appear that he was doing the gentlemanly thing in placing his body between hers and potential harm from a passing car. Of course, there was no traffic at the time. There was never traffic at that hour and that worked to his advantage.

There was little moonlight and the height of the buildings around the block cast the area to their left into deep shadow. There was nothing but darkness past the fence and that would make his surprise a little more shocking.

As they neared the corner, Frank made sure exactly where the opening was and timed it perfectly. Just as they reached the spot where a gate had been, now a gap in the fence, he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her toward the gate.

Hey! she practically screamed. What’s going on?

Trust me, he said harshly and pushed her through the gate and into an old cemetery. Though he couldn’t see clearly, he knew the layout of the old headstones and crypts, odd for a cemetery to have actual graves in New Orleans, considering the water table. But the place was that old, so old that Frank was convinced that the city had been built around it. With the Catholic church being the predominant one in the city, he thought that not wanting to disturb what they considered sacred ground was enough of a reason for it to remain as it was.

Heather stumbled a bit as he pushed her forward, glancing over her shoulder as she protested and questioned what he was doing. He ignored her protests and kept a firm grip on her shoulders, pushing her forward until they reached his preferred spot.

It wasn’t quite a mausoleum, just a concrete vault above ground that was a little lower than waist high and perfect for what he had in mind. As they reached it, he roughly turned Heather around and pushed her back against it. He grasped her shoulders and pushed her back.

What the hell are you doing? she asked, struggling to get away.

He was too strong for her and had positioned himself so that she couldn’t pull any sudden moves against him. Moving quickly, he shoved her back with his right hand and grabbed her left leg with his left. With one fluid motion, he pushed her over and swung her legs onto the top of the vault. She tried to roll away, but he clamped his right hand around her throat, tightening his grip until she began struggling to draw a breath. He couldn’t see it, but he knew that her face was turning read and her body thrashed with the struggle to breathe. As he leaned over her, smiling in the dark, he reached into a pocket of his pants and pulled out his special tool.

He’d made it himself, having taken two rather large nails and attached them to a dental brace he’d swiped from his dentist’s office months earlier, when the idea had first struck him. He’d then ground the nails down to sharp points and polished them until they gleamed like chrome. He’d taken care to fit them to his teeth and he inserted them as Heather’s struggles began to slow and she began to lose consciousness. Finally, he was ready and leaned over her, looking for just the right spot.

Before he could, he heard a lush feminine voice speak to him from the darkness.

You’re doing that completely wrong, the voice said and he looked up. But at least I know you’re the one.

He looked around sharply, unable to locate the direction of the voice thanks to the walls of the surrounding buildings causing the sound to swirl.

Who are you? he asked, almost snarling. What do you want?

I want you, the voice said, sounding a little closer. I want you to stop what you’re doing.

He shook his head, No. She’s mine.

That’s where you are mistaken, the voice said. She’s not yours and she’s not mine. She is her own person and you’re going to let her go.

No way, he shook his head again. Show yourself or I’ll take care of you next.

She laughed, a rich, deep laugh, then said, You might try.

Then she stepped out of the shadows into the faint light filtering into the area. It was enough that Frank could see her and she was absolutely stunning. She was taller than Heather with long, curly brown hair and an exquisite face, soft and smooth, with full lips set in a smirk that cast an aura of confidence and power around her. She was dressed in black, a top that was cut low, revealing a bit of cleavage, and tapered into tight-fitting black pants that were tucked into black boots.

You’re the vampire killer, she said as she moved slowly toward Frank. I’m going to need you to stop.

He again shook his head, his mouth hanging open at the sight of her, Why would I do that?

Because you are not one of us, she said and moved still closer. You are close to revealing our existence and I cannot allow that.

Huh? he asked, his mouth closing as his face took on a frown. Who are you?

My name is Lena, she said. And that’s all you will need to know. Now, Frank Valente, aspiring journalist, you will walk away and never do this again.

He shook his head, I can’t do that. This is my life, my future.

Not any longer, she said and lunged