Inbred Blood: An Amish Vampire Love Story [Part 2]

It had been a week since Amos returned from Rumspringa, and people were starting to talk. He remained cloistered in his bedroom with the curtains closed all day. He had missed twelve barn raisings, 32 butter churnings, and 3 buggy joy rides. Worst of all, he never paid calls to young Fannie Hershberger anymore. People were starting to talk, wondering if Amos, like so many a rumspringa returnee, had left his heart in Cleveland.

Fanny was a comely young thing with excellent birthing hips. She was preparing for Rumspringa herself and wasn't so sure she wanted to come back.One night, while visiting the woods to read her hidden stash of dirty magazines, she felt a cold presence watching her from behind.  Her hands clutched tighter on her copy of Wired Magazine. "There's an article about hand-stitching. That's the only reason I'm reading it, I swear!" Fanny called out.

"It doesn't matter to me what you read, Fanny" said a sad, masculine voice.

Fanny turned to see a handsome figure standing in the moonlight, a figure she would recognize anywhere. "Amos!" she yelled with joy. She ran to his arms, embracing him firmly.

"I'm sorry I've been so stand-offish lately, Fanny. I promise it's nothing to do with you. I just don't much care for daylight anymore..."

"Oh Amos, I thought that I'd lost you forever. There's something I want to tell you. Something I've been needing to express for so very long. Amos, I love you."

Fanny looked into Amos's eyes. Her heart filled with excitement. She was being so naughty expressing her feelings for him, but her love was so deep she could hold back no longer. Amos gazed longingly back at her. Some part of him would have expressed love back, but he was now a vampire, and vampires don't fall in love. That's idiotic.

He bit her neck and feasted on her blood. It tasted pretty good, like butter and wheat.

The End.

Inbred Blood: An Amish Vampire Love Story [Part 1]

It was the final night of Amos's rumspringa in the Sodom known as Cleveland, Ohio. All in all, it had been a satisfying journey in which he accomplished most of what he set out to experience: a ride in a motorized buggy, room cleaning service by a Hispanic cleaning maiden, and the amazing stain fighting power of OxyClean™.

On this, his final night, Amos wished to cross the final item off of his list: a kiss on the cheek from a loose woman. He dressed in his Sunday best and stepped in the door of the most evil place in town, the Cleveland Community Bingo Center. In his youth, his parents warned him of the evils of games of chance and how the young wasted their lives away in bingo parlors with loud music and raucous acts of sexuality.

Amos sidled up next to the gal with the most make-up, an obvious whore named Millie. Her milky, lined, liver-spotted skin had been powdered to the nines. Her cheeks were rouged redder than Solomon's most prized concubine. Her silvery hair was coiffed high in seductive glory. She winked one eye, caked with fuchsia eye-shadow, at Amos and nodded toward the back alley exit. She wheeled her Jazzy™ out the door and Amos followed willingly, entranced by her sexual prowess.

Once outside, Millie wasted no time. "Get them young neck veins over here, boy. I need to be finished in time to get home for Jeopardy," she said. Obediently Amos leaned down toward her awaiting fangs, gleaming from nightly use of Polident. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then bit deep into his neck. Amos's vision began to blur. He became dizzy and fell, hitting his head on the frame of the Jazzy™.

He awoke hours later, well past his bedtime, with a splitting headache and a handful of Werther's Originals in his pocket. Confused, and for some reason hungering for blood, Amos stumbled back to his room at the motor lodge. It had been an immensely satisfying rumspringa, but it was time to go home.