# The Indelible Mark of Baby Dracula-Part One



## Arcopitcairn (Oct 21, 2012)

To keep him at bay, Gran Helsing was always sure to strap Baby Dracula tightly into his car seat, lest he leap from the moving car, and on out into the night. Crosses on the backs of the front seat and on the car windows kept the baby just uncomfortable and confused enough to prevent him from changing into mist or a bat. And she had a spray bottle filled with holy water in case of vampiric emergency. She was not his real Grandmother.


  Gran’s wrinkled hands grasped the steering wheel and she strained to see anything past the twin halos of the headlights that scanned the oncoming blacktop. She adjusted her glasses. Her gray hair was done up in a tight bun, and her seatbelt stretched across a flower-print dress which hung loosely on her frail frame. Every now and again, she glanced back at the baby, just to make sure he was not trying to escape. She did not hold the baby’s gaze for long because more often than not he would attempt to hypnotize her.


  Baby Dracula was being a real fussbudget. He shrugged off his black velvet cape/blankie, and he winced at an inadvertent glance at one of the crosses that loomed. He curled his fat little fingers into fists and raged softly, tiny derisive snorts wiggling from his pinch-magnet cheeks, which were blushed with inhuman fury. His perfectly round and bald head swiveled back and forth menacingly, his red eyes scanning for signs of life in dark houses they passed, his mind imagining victims. He hissed and bared his little fangs at fellow drivers if they ever made the mistake of looking at him. He kicked his chubby feet and struggled. He could not escape his car seat, and it made him angry. 


  “Ba ba.” Baby Dracula demanded, his infant voice tempered with forbidden secrets. 


  Gran ignored him. She drove the car.


  “I want ba ba!” the baby repeated, this time with more gusto. “Sucky!” He cried.


  Gran reached into the baby bag in the passenger seat, keeping her eyes on the road. She found the bottle (Chicken blood and horse tranquilizers) and she carefully handed it to the baby. Dracula’s doughy mitts snatched the bottle and he greedily attacked the rubber nipple with evil, smacking cherubic lips.


  “The blood is the life!” he gurgled between sucks. Drops of blood spattered his roly-poly belly and painted his fresh, white diaper as his legs kicked in feeding convulsions. He drained the blood in seconds, and he hurled the empty plastic bottle into the front seat with authority. The tranquilizers kicked in and he drifted off to sleep, mumbling murderous burps.


  Gran glanced at the bottle and then glanced at hers, the bottle of peach brandy she went to the liquor store to get, along with several packs of non-filtered Camels. She sighed. Even a trip to the store was a major production. She could not leave the baby home alone at night. If she did, he would escape. She had to keep an eye on him at all times. Except in the daytime. She kept the monster drugged and chained at night, in his garlic and cross-laden crib. He was a real chore, baby Dracula was.


  She pulled the car up to her spooky old house on Darkly Lane and she shut the engine off. She quickly grabbed up the baby bag and her stuff from the liquor store. She opened a back door and she carefully removed the baby from the car seat. She had to get him inside in a short clip, before the drugs started to wear off. The baby was powerful in the night, and his little body burned up the tranquilizers like flash paper. She walked briskly towards the front door, her keys in hand. Up the stairs to the dark porch and she stopped. The front door was ajar.


  The door sprung open and a hand shot out and grabbed Gran by her flowered dress. She was pulled inside and thrown down to the floor in the foyer. Baby Dracula flew from her arms and rolled across the room, wrapped in his little cape. The baby bag spilled, its contents skittering on the hardwood. The front door slammed and Gran, on her knees, looked up to face her attacker. It was Some Black Guy!


  He stereotypically stood, dressed in tattered, red track suit pants and a Pittsburg Pirates hoody. The hood covered most of his black face, but his gold teeth caught the light in a wicked sneer. His big gold medallion swung back and forth hypnotically. He pointed a little .38 at her face. Gran had heard that Some Black Guy was committing burglaries and car-jackings around town, but she never thought that he would ever think of coming to her place. Nobody in their right mind would think that there’d be something in her old, run down house worth stealing.


  “Yo, where the money, Old Lady?” Some Black Guy said, as expected.


  “My purse is in the bag,” Gran cried as she cringed in fear, “take it!”


  Some Black Guy reached down and picked up the old change purse from the spilled pile of the baby bag. He rooted through it quickly, and was disappointed. Seven buck barely a robbery makes. “Ain’t even tryin’ to walk away wif seven dollars, Old Lady,” he slurred ebonically, “Where the jewelry?”


  “I don’t have any jewelry.” Gran said.


  Some Black Guy back-handed Gran across the face with his pistol, and she recoiled from the strike violently, her dentures flying bloodily from her mouth. Fake teeth and blood landed near Baby Dracula. His eyes opened.


  “You dead,” Some Black Guy said, and he pointed his gun at Gran.  She was flopped on the floor, barely conscious, only half aware that her long, sad life was about to come to an end.


  A tiny blur sped by Some Black Guy, and the criminal’s head was removed most sincerely. The body stumbled around for a few steps, the heart still pumping, and a fountain of blood spewed forth from the spasming neck-hole. The corpse fired off a shot before it fell, missing Gran by inches. The body twitched on the floor, a pool of blood forming around the headless maw.


  Baby Dracula tossed the surprised-faced head of Some Black Guy into a nearby trash can, and he waddled quickly on his stubby legs to the corpse. The baby shoved his face into the puddle of blood and he slurped, gorging himself on his hands and knees, his head dipping in again and again like a pig in a trough. Human blood empowered him, and he could feel his strength growing by the second as he lapped at the blood. He glanced sideways as he fed, and he noticed that Gran was crawling towards the spray bottle that burned him when he misbehaved. He hissed at her, and with his newfound strength, he flew at the front door, which exploded into splinters at his passing.


  Freedom, horrible freedom for Baby Dracula! He willed himself into the form of a tiny bat, and he flittered off into the night sky. It was time for terror!


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## Nemesis (Oct 21, 2012)

This piece had me in hysterics, it was silly and dark and all together humorous. Great job ^^


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## Arcopitcairn (Oct 21, 2012)

Thanks! It's a silly thing. Came from a dream. Glad you liked it!


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## mrs.mcphilia (Oct 22, 2012)

Haha!

It's stories like these where you find yourself imagining how every known villian of the face of the earth, real or unreal, looked like in their rompers 

Amusing little story you have written here. Cute and cruel at the same time (that poor granny) :] Loved the part where she fed him a horse tranquilizer. I made me laugh out loud. Haha!

You just made me want to pinch Dragula's fat, blood smudged cheeks.


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## FleshEater (Oct 22, 2012)

This was great and would make a great Troma film! Thoroughly enjoyed it!


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## Kevin (Oct 22, 2012)

^Oh dear, I think I'm converted to communism...must've been eating too much Pho' Ga.^


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## Arcopitcairn (Oct 22, 2012)

trandiem288796 said:


> Nu?c tinh khi?t Kana Thu?n L?i lÃ* cÃ´ng ty s?n xu?t nu?c tinh khi?t hÃ*ng d?u chuyÃªn phÃ¢n ph?i cÃ¡c lo?i nu?c tinh khi?t  cho khÃ¡ch hÃ*ng. CÃ¡c s?n ph?m cua Kana  du?c chi?t su?t t? ngu?n nu?c th?y c?c, du?c l?c  vÃ*  dÃ£ x? lÃ½ qua h? th?ng th?m th?u ngu?c vÃ* ozne, sau dÃ³ du?c thanh trÃ¹ng b?ng tia c?c tÃ*mvÃ* dÃ£ du?c c?c v? sinh an toÃ*n th?c ph?m c?p gi?y ch?ng nh?n lÃ* s?n ph?m d?t tieu chu?n . KhÃ¡ch hÃ*ng cÃ³ th? hoÃ*n toÃ*n yÃªn tÃ¢m v? ch?t lu?ng vÃ* giÃ¡ c? khi s? d?ng nu?c tinh khi?t c?a Kana Thu?n L?i .
> 
> V?i phong cÃ¡ch ph?c v? hi?n d?i vÃ* chuyÃªn nghi?p, d?i ngu nhÃ¢n viÃªn nhi?t tÃ¬nh, chu dÃ¡o, chÃºng tÃ´i khÃ´ng ng?ng hoÃ*n thi?n, m? r?ng quy mÃ´ ph?c v? vÃ* da d?ng hÃ³a s?n ph?m  nu?c tinh khi?t.  S? tinh khi?t c?a Kana khÃ´ng nh?ng cung c?p nu?c cho co th? c?a b?n mÃ* cÃ²n  d?n cho b?n m?t c?m giÃ¡c s?ng khoÃ¡i. Kana  khÃ´ng ch? t?p trung ? ph?m vi bÃ¡n l? mÃ* cÃ²n lÃ* m?t trong nh?ng nhÃ* phÃ¢n ph?i nu?c tinh khi?t cÃ³ uy tÃ*n trÃªn th? tru?ng. ChÃºng tÃ´i d?m b?o cung c?p cho khÃ¡ch hÃ*ng nh?ng s?n ph?m nu?c tinh khi?t  t?t nh?t v?i giÃ¡ thÃ*nh chu?n nh?t.
> 
> Kana Thu?n L?i  luÃ´n d?t l?i Ã*ch c?a khÃ¡ch hÃ*ng lÃªn hÃ*ng d?u, chÃºng tÃ´i d?m b?o giao hÃ*ng t?n noi trong th?i gian ng?n nh?t. N?u hÃ*ng hoÃ¡ khÃ´ng dÃºng quy cÃ¡ch, ch?t lu?ng s? d?i l?i. QuÃ½ khÃ¡ch l?y hÃ*ng v?i s? lu?ng l?n s? du?c gi?m giÃ¡. R?t cÃ¡m on QuÃ½ khÃ¡ch hÃ*ng dÃ£ s? d?ng nu?c tinh khiÃªt Kana .



Thanks very much! Glad you liked it!


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## Serenade (Oct 29, 2012)

Cute and amusing, for sure. Raised an eyebrow at Some Black Guy, since I'm actually some black guy...who writes, haha. But I saw what you were going for and you wrote the satire well. Overall, tight writing, good descriptions and characterization, and funny without trying too hard. Only question, is there going to be a continuation? And...you know what you have to do now that you've opened this can of worms, right? Baby Frankenstein! Baby mummy! Baby werewolf! I'm already chuckling picturing where you can go with all this. Great job.


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## Christopher_angels (Nov 7, 2012)

Wow saw title laughed, read it and loved it ha!


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## Cirse (Nov 8, 2012)

Very nice. I wish my dreams inspired stories like this. My favorite was was baby Dracula asking for 'sucky"...


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## QFMD (Nov 11, 2012)

I love this,  totally loved it.  It wont be I read it and go away.  I'll think about, Cause I love it so much,  I'll remember it weeks from now.  Well done, fab writing.


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## Arcopitcairn (Nov 12, 2012)

Glad you liked it! Thanks for reading it


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## Mumford (Nov 15, 2012)

Very funny and memorable, really enjoyed it! One thing that did irk me a little was that you sometimes reuse words a little too much, for example "bottle" or "blood". However, this is just a personal thing, it doesn't seem like anybody else seemed to mind haha. So other than that, great job!


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## Arcopitcairn (Jun 24, 2014)

Part Two: His Diabolical Machinations




 Gran sat Indian-style on the floor for a moment. She looked at the still-twitching body of Some Black Guy, the ruined front door, and her teeth. She picked up her dentures and fit them in her worried mouth. She scooted across the floor to her bottle of peach brandy, opened it, and took a healthy swig. She got to her feet, old bones creaking, and wiped the blood and excess booze from her lips.


 She sighed.


 She opened the door beneath the stairs, the one that led to the basement. She took an Adidas-clad foot in each hand and dragged SBG down the basement steps, leaving dribbles and globs of blood all along the way. When at the bottom, she reached around for the light chain and found it, and pulled it. There was not much revealed in the stark florescent snap of the tubes. There were a few dusty boxes, the ancient furnace, and the Hole of Forgetting.


 The house had been built around the Hole. It was round, set in the dirt floor, ten feet wide, and paved on the lip and the sides with various stones. A slight warmth radiated from the Hole, and if one were to look down over the edge, they would not particularly see expected blackness, but a distant twinkle far below, a world away, like a candle flicker across an ocean. There was something down there, some coiled, scraping, hissing thing. It never came up. It just stayed.


 Gran drug the corpse to the Hole and rolled it over the side. She did not hear it hit the bottom.


 She made her way back upstairs, cleaned up the blood, and she threw the rags on top of the head staring lifelessly up from the bottom of the trash can. She gathered up the scattered contents of her baby bag and she opened the foyer closet door. The tranquilizer pistol was there, as was her lucky crucifix, and also a large butterfly net on a long wooden handle. The netting was interlaced with garlic strands.


 Gran sighed again and dutifully, sadly, ventured out into the night.




 The little meandering bat smacked a tree limb and fluttered to the ground. Baby Dracula was not so good at being a bat. Wings and claws turned to hands and feet, and the confused bat-face morphed, in a whiff of brimstone, into the bulbous head of the baby. From a crawl, he pushed himself up with his chubby hands into a perilous standing position. His velvet black cape/blankie was sprawled out behind him, tied around his neck. His teary eyes considered the offending tree, and he shook a threatening fist at it. He was in somebody's back yard.


 A dog strolled up to him from the shadows and looked him in his red, evil eyes. The amiable mutt licked one of Dracula's pudgy cheeks. He drained the dog of blood in a horrible instant, feeding mercilessly. He bared his fangs at the moon and belched. His first kill of the night!


 “It begins!” He cried, and he waddled to the back gate, leaped over it into the alley beyond, and he stalked. Back yards all in a juicy row, a smorgasbord laid out before him. Who knew what unsuspecting victims lounged in those grassy squares? His unsure legs carried him along, malevolently tottering to and fro from bush to bush, trash can to garage, fat feet shuffling. And then there was a cat.


 The cat sat on the hood of a car, washing its feet. It was a black cat, unlucky for some, but just another snack for Baby Dracula! The cat, in its aloof way, looked at the baby standing in the moonlight.  


 “Kitty,” Dracula said with a smile, his tongue darting around his fangs in anticipation, his Vienna Wiener fingers wiggling with blood lust.


 “Meow,” said the cat.


 Dracula launched himself at the cat, but the cat was faster. The devilish baby, a soft and fleshy cannonball, bounced off the windshield of the car, cracking the glass. He flopped to the ground, but was back on his feet angrily in an instant, scanning for the offending feline that dared defy his unholy thirst.


 The cat stood ten feet away, watching him. Then the chase!


 Baby Dracula sprung again. The agile fleeting shadow of the cat darted through hedges, in between wooden slats of fences, and around rusty old trash cans. It was a graceful blur of fur and paw, a speeding black dot, and it knew exactly where it was going. Baby Dracula followed, hedges ripping at his cape, wooden slats bonking him in the face, and he bounced off trash cans as from bumpers in a pinball machine. The baby tumbled through the air, a frightful infant pinwheel, and he ended up lying on his back in another back yard. The cat was long gone.


 He stared up at the stars, his belly heaving with labored breath. His prey had escaped him, and he was ashamed. He lay in the cool grass, struggling not to make eye contact with the mocking moon. He was a failed creature of the night. He could not even catch a cat. He was about to cry. But then he noticed something out of the corner of his moist, defeated eye.


 He gasped and leaped to his feet, his baby fat jiggling even in his frozen stance. The dark gods that bore him were smiling up at him from the pit! There was an open window on the second floor of the house the back yard belonged to, an inviting dark square full of promise a mere leap away. He was not finished yet!


 Chubby hands grasped the lip of a hanging window flower bed. He pulled himself up, and then Baby Dracula's little feet were squishing pleasantly in the potting soil of the hanger, among the red flowers. He peered inside.


 Framed in the blue light of a television, Dracula saw a young couple sleeping, wrapped in blankets, blissfully unaware of the doom that had come calling to their window. A satisfied, sift hiss passed by his bared fangs, and his red eyes glowed with an otherworldly hunger. He carefully shredded the window screen with his stubby fingers, laying the mesh open, a portal that led to dark victory. He carefully reached one hammy hand inside.


 It started to smoke.


 He withdrew his burnt hand with a startled gasp and he cradled it against his flabby chest. He tried the other hand. Burned! He could not go inside, and it hurt to try. He did not understand, and it made him angry. The injustice! It was not fair.


 If the young couple had stirred from their slumber at that moment and cast an eye towards their window, they would been very surprised to see a dirty, disheveled, red-eyed baby in cape throwing a silent tantrum in their window flower bed. He writhed in impotent frustration. Denied again!


 Something stung Baby Dracula in the neck. Dizzy, he fell to the ground with a solid plop. He got up and hissed at Gran Helsing, who was loading up another tranquilizer dart. He was too groggy to run, and she shot him in the belly even as he pulled the first dart from his neck.


 “Kill...you...,” the baby slurred as he collapsed. “The...blood...”


 As he crawled toward her, losing consciousness, she put one more dart in his shoulder, just to be on the safe side.


 Gran scooped up baby Dracula in the garlic-laced butterfly net and carried him to the car, which was parked in the alley. She strapped him in his car seat, shot him with one more dart, and she drove back to the house on Darkly Lane.


 Her mind drifted back to the Hole, and how nice it would be to jump into it.


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## ussaid (Jun 26, 2014)

well now here we have a silly and cruel story. Nice! Just a couple more posts and I would be ready to submit my own work.


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## Kevin (Jun 26, 2014)

Another winner. Keep going. lol ... It's too funny.

Simple, declarative sentences that could be worded slightly differently, the order changed without changing the meaning. I wonder if you play with those, trying out different options? I know I would. There were a lot of 'She this...' and 'She that...' I'm not complaining.


> butterfly net and carried him to the car, which was waiting in the alley.


 This one read odd, 'which' sounded 'added' . _carrying him out to her car in the alley... which she'd left waiting... parked... (endless possible variations of...) _Could just be me.


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## apple (Jun 26, 2014)

I always love your off-center, surprising---go for it writing.  I like Part 1 the best.  Such a dandy story.  lol.  Part 2 is very good also, but doesn't quite have the spunk and feistiness as part 1 does.  Still good, good.


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## Jo3 (Jun 26, 2014)

This is great. Please post more soon!


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## Arcopitcairn (Jun 26, 2014)

Kevin said:


> Another winner. Keep going. lol ... It's too funny.
> 
> Simple, declarative sentences that could be worded slightly differently, the order changed without changing the meaning. I wonder if you play with those, trying out different options? I know I would. There were a lot of 'She this...' and 'She that...' I'm not complaining.
> This one read odd, 'which' sounded 'added' . _carrying him out to her car in the alley... which she'd left waiting... parked... (endless possible variations of...) _Could just be me.



Changed to 'which was parked in the alley'. Maybe that reads better? I'm beginning to like simple sentences. I would sometimes (And even still) try and make each sentence 'special', add punch visually, but if I use simple sentences I find that a little verve here and there stands out more. It's a fun exercise

I always figure that instead of overusing epithets, things like 'she did' or 'she that' kind of just glide over the mind when you read it, unless you're looking for it. Maybe, maybe not. I could just use her name a time or two more, instead of 'she'.

Thanks for checking it out. Glad you dug it!


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## midnightpoet (Jun 26, 2014)

Don't get me wrong. I liked this a lot.  I just kept wondering why Gran hadn't already thrown the little baby Drac into the "hole of forgetting" pit.  Maybe she'd tried already and it didn't work?  I'd definitely read more to find out.


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## Arcopitcairn (Jun 26, 2014)

midnightpoet said:


> Don't get me wrong. I liked this a lot.  I just kept wondering why Gran hadn't already thrown the little baby Drac into the "hole of forgetting" pit.  Maybe she'd tried already and it didn't work?  I'd definitely read more to find out.



I think that she has an important responsibility to the baby, and she will not kill him. Least ways that's what I thought while I was writing it.


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## Paulbee (Jun 27, 2014)

OMDs This was really funny. Someone else who doesn't think "drama=soap with fangs is the only way" It's so refreshing to read a writer not taking their Gothica stuff so seriously! More please or I'll send Godzilla in a romper suit to bite ya.


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## MsTerious (Jun 27, 2014)

Hahaha I have no idea why I like this so much, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. Perhaps it's because the horror spin on mundane life is so darn funny, especially combined with the dark humour used to characterize baby Dracula - appealing even when blood thirsty.  I think you could make a lot out of this. There's so much potential background for these characters. What is Gran Helsing? Is she human? How did she come to have sole responsibility of baby Dracula if she's not his real grandma?  Not to mention the whole new angle of Dracula as a baby. Is he the original Dracula? Is he the offsping? How did he become the most sexualised horror figure of all time? These are questions as a reader that I thirst to know more about. Like I said, a piece you described as being a 'silly thing' has so much potential! I really hope you'll decide to continue with this


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## AMiller (Jul 20, 2014)

Very cute and funny change up to the typical horror story, I could see the film running in my head a s I read. Your sense of imagery is outstanding and plays to your strengths as a comedic storyteller.


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## Yoten (Aug 12, 2014)

# "sucky" little baby Dracula~


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## Daniel Loreand (Aug 16, 2014)

lmao, this was a really fun read, well played! It reminded me of a sort of flash fiction you would find in a weird back ally anthology that only a few people have seen, great stuff!

Daniel.


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