Melabeth the Vampire by E.B. Hood Read Free Book Online Page A

continued. “You’re not running away from home or anything like that?”
    “No sir; I am heading back home.” I said to the driver. There was something off about these two guys as they gave each other a quick look. Some unsaid understanding passed between them. The driver went back to looking at the road, while the passenger went back to looking at me.
    “My name’s Dave” said the passenger “and this right over here is my coz Jim… what’s you go by?”
    I paused; what is my name? I don’t think I should tell him my name is Melanie Elizabeth Dare. I was caught off guard; and I said the first think that came to mind “Melabeth”
    “That’s a real pretty name you have” offered up Dave.
    “I have never heard the name Melabeth before. Are your parents from around these parts?” asked Jim. He was definitely trying to find out a little background info.
    “No sir.” I was not going to offer up too much info.
    “Well it don’t matter none, Jim” Dave said as he spun himself forward in his seat. “And don’t forget my stuff at the hunting lodge; we need to get it.”
    Jim gave a look at Dave, but then he looked forward to the road again. “Oh, ya, I almost forgot. No problem Dave. Little girl...”
    Dave cut him off. “It’s Melabeth, Jim.”
    Jim said smoothly with his soft voice. “I am sorry; meant no disrespect Melabeth; I was just sayin; it will only take a few minutes to grab Dave’s stuff. Then we will be able to drive you all the way to the bus station.”
    Before I could respond, Dave added. “And you wouldn’t have to stand outside hitching.”
    “Maybe never again.”  Jim said with no real emotion in that soft voice.
    I wasn’t meant to hear that, but my hearing is amazing, so I just answered.   “Yep, no problem. Do what you need to; if you guys don’t mind, I am going to grab a little shut eye.” Not that I had to sleep. Far from it, I was wide awake. I just didn’t want to talk anymore with these men, and, if their intentions were not pure, well I guess I wouldn’t have to go hungry all night after all.
    As I lay there pretending to be asleep, memories of my past came to my mind as I thought back to the first time I was called Melabeth. My father wished for my name to be Melanie, something about being the music to his heart. That was the story he gave me, but it was probably the name of his ex-girlfriend. My mother wanted to name me Elizabeth, after her grandmother who had already passed away.
    I guess it's better than being named after my grandmother Norma. After my mother passed away and my dad was out on his drinking binge, I lived with my grandparents James and Norma Bergman, who were the closest things I ever had to real parents. My grandfather James used to sit me on his lap and tell me all kinds of stories; after my mother died I was a little too big to put on his lap.  Too big for the lap maybe, but never too big for the stories, he used to tell me the stories every night sitting on my bed, until I fell asleep.
    For a 12-year-old girl dealing with the death of her mother, it was the only thing that kept me sane. Every time my grandfather looked at me, you could see that I reminded him of my mother, his only daughter, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes that I feared would never leave him. One night my grandfather was sitting on the end of my bed, telling me a story about my mother and father. He had a great way of telling stories.
    *                 *                   *
    My grandfather started his story one night. “Well you see honey for years I believed you had a sister. I know I never saw her, but your father always called you Mel. And your mother always called you Beth. So see every time you came to visit, you liked to play hide and seek. And who were you hiding from? I don't know, but then I could hear your parents calling for you… MEL WHERE ARE YOU?  BETH COME DOWN TO EAT. And when you did not answer, they would call