Vampire Triangle: Unexpected Letter

Vampire Triangle

Unexpected Letter

Hunter N. Mackenzie

Copyright © 2020 by Hunter N. Mackenzie.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2020902092

ISBN:                Hardcover              978-1-7960-8610-2

                          Softcover                978-1-7960-8611-9

                          eBook                     978-1-7960-8614-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/27/2020

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Contents

Acknowledgement

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

About the Author

Acknowledgement

This is the first acknowledgement I have ever had to write. There are many people that are responsible for me completing this book. I would like to begin by telling you a few stories that may enlighten you as to why I had begun to write and why I chose to complete the Vampire Triangle first.

It all began when I was in grade school, just like everyone else, I took spelling and grammar. I was never a big fan of writing stories. I always felt the teachers were trying to invade my thoughts by getting me to provide them with a What I Did This Summer essay.

I always felt that these were personal and if I wanted to tell them I would. Needless to say, my grades were not favourable. It wasn’t until I was in my mid-teens when I became, somewhat, serious about my English Classes.

My first year of high school didn’t start out very well. I went from an athlete to a no-body in the first two months. Children can be cruel and callous. Fortunately my life was about to change. As life does.

We moved to a different city. A different high school. A new beginning. I met new friends and everything was great but I still had no interest in literature. I excelled at math and science. I even grew a little and changed my sport. I went from my usual Basketball and Volleyball to enroll in wrestling. I was never the best at it but it gave me pleasure and we did win a few meets along the way.

Then my life changed again. It would seem that the city had each of the high schools zoned and I was attending the wrong one. Grade Ten would be at a different institution once again. Making friends, as everyone knows becomes more difficult as you get older. Once again, I became more introverted.

To become more accepted by my new community I bowed to peer pressure. I experimented with a few different drugs but I never got into anything hard core. It came to the point that I didn’t pursue the week-end social high but habitual usage was my normal daily routine.

My life was about to take another turn. I do not know who she was but this is the first person I would like to thank. Hopefully she will read this and know that for the short time we met. She changed my life for the better.

As you recall, I did say, it was habitual usage. Part of my daily routine was to go to the local corner family store. I would walk in through the front door, grab a bag of chips then a Ginger Ale or which-ever cola I was in the mood for. Then I would head over to the freezer and get a quart of Ice cream, usually Butterscotch or Vanilla. I would walk up and get my favourite chocolate bar and put it all on the counter. When I got to the counter there was always a pack of cigarettes and a package of rolling papers. I would pay with a twenty and get my change and walk out the door.

This night was different. The path was the same. The items were the same but no cigarettes and no papers. I was perplexed. I looked up at the person behind the counter and saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen staring back at me.

I was speechless. My mouth went dry. The only sound I could produce was uma nah eh Blah blah heh. I don’t recall ever being able to spit out a consonant. My face turned red and all of a sudden, I was extremely self-conscious. I was so embarrassed that I turned and walked out the door and never returned.

As I left that family store, realising I left all the products and cash behind and possibly the love of my life. My embarrassment prompted me into my next life change. I quit one of my habitual habits that evening, stopping the use of the so called recreational drugs. My thought was, If I can’t even talk to a beautiful woman, what was this stuff doing to my mind?

Through my own decision of giving up my habitual nature, it cost me some of the friendships I developed. I tried to keep the friendships but when I would decline offers to indulge, I would be pressured and called NARC. Eventually all things work out and you discover who your real friends are.

Slowly losing touch with the lesser friendships created more time for school work. Homework was never one of my strong points because I would be off to this place or that. I am a social butterfly at heart.

It was one of these, homework moments, that was forced upon me by my Grandmother. God bless her soul. She is the main reason for my writing addiction. She replaced one habit with another.

An introduction would be in order here. Meet my Grandma. I cannot remember a time in my life without her in it. Grade three education and the smartest person I have ever met.

She spoke and wrote two languages fluently. Her math skills were impeccable. She was a carpenter a plumber a beautician a chef a teacher and a mother of six. Without a notebook she remembered all the names and birthdates of all of her family including husbands and wives of, including phone numbers. She kept the family together.

She enjoyed board games and cards. I cannot recall her ever losing a game of scrabble. There were very few instances where she would lose at Yahtzee.

She taught me to sew, knit, cook and write. I remember the night she taught me the latter. I don’t find much use for sewing or knitting even though I know I can if it came down to it. Cooking and writing is what I do on a regular basis. My friends have enjoyed my renditions of my Grandmothers recipes and a few have given me critique on my writing. Well appreciated.

Now that the introduction is complete, I will tell you of that night she taught me to write. It was shortly after my encounter with fate at the family store. An essay was due the next morning in my English literature class.

Grade 11 literature proved to be my Achilles heel. Shakespeare was a headache and I mean literally. I must have stared at the paper for over an hour. I would read the prerequisite for the assignment and stare at the blank page.

Supper was on the stove. Grandma was sitting in the living room, watching a game of Jeopardy and winning again. An advertisement spot opened, giving her time to check on her latest culinary creation. She noticed my page was still void of ink, my thoughts were not conveyed. She asked what I was doing and I informed her of my predicament. She told me to hurry, that supper would soon be ready. I said to her, I didn’t know how to put down on paper what was in my head. She asked if I read the chapters we were to cover that week. I answered yes and that I did pay attention in class.

My sister was at her friends place and my mother was at work. It was only the two of us. Grandma told me to put it away and give my brain a rest. We sat and had the best hamburger stew I had ever tasted. Just the right amount of spices. I didn’t even pollute it with my usual dowse of ketchup. We talked as we listened to the end of Jeopardy. She got the final answer correct, which amazed me because I was a teenager and thought I knew everything.

When the meal was over she took my bowl and told me to get my homework as she did the dishes. I didn’t want to do it at all and began my usual start into a tantrum. I was willing to get another D or F on this assignment as usual.

I am glad she was a persistent woman. I was insistent that I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know what to say. She looked me in the eye and reminded me of our dinner conversation. I said yes, I know it but I didn’t know how to put it down on paper. I was not a writer.

This is when she gave me the most profound tip I ever heard. Write it as you would say it. This was the best sage advice I had gotten in my 18 years.

I wrote down our dinner conversation almost word for word with a few new thoughts thrown in for good measure. I cannot remember the grade I attained from this one lesson but I will say that from that point I began to enrich my vocabulary. I passed my finals with a 96%. I could just imagine what I could have done if I paid attention to her earlier.

If there is one thing I am positive about in this world. Nothing could shake me from this belief. My Grandmother loved me. Unfortunately she passed. She passed away on my 19th Birthday of cancer. She was riddled with it from head to toe. My Grandmother’s {Marie-Ange}, last month on this earth was spent in and out of consciousness.

The nurses woke her up on a daily basis to asses her cognitive abilities. If it wasn’t for her sister and children giving her the date she would have failed these daily exams. I was present for a majority of her final days and unwillingly watched as Orderlies treated her with disrespect. I became agitated at one to the point where I refused him entrance and requested his dismissal.

Due to her condition guest privileges were extended and family was present around the clock. Then came the fateful day, my Birthday.

I arrived at 8am. She was surrounded