I ran accross a Halloween writing prompt. Let’s just say that it was fun. I may have to turn the piece into something longer. I have tentatively titled the piece BAR LIMBO.
As always feel free to leave your feedback and
“It’s almost time,” said a transparent, portly figure in a three piece, striped suit. His hair was slicked back on his head while a dark scar provided contrast to his pasty pallor. A half-smoked cigarette hung from his mouth.
“Of course it is Mr. Capone. It happens annually,” a female in a burgundy and gold mediaeval dress dryly implied. Her hands were covered in heavy gold gloves.
“It’s All Hallow’s Eve, Countess. A rock of ages such as yourself should be walking in full munitions with the air breathers,” Capone finished with a leer.
“Mr. Capone, I will not dally amongst those plebeians,” the Countess finished imperiously.
“Hey Al! You gonna peek in on the bone bags next week,” a pale figure wearing board shorts and a bright floral print shirt shouted from across the hazy room.
Al Capone smirked as he replied, “Yeah. Gotta make sure the girl hasn’t turned into a clothesline. Make sure the entire family is taken care.”
The countess next to Al sniffed daintily, as though she smelled something rotten. “You don’t like Old Donn, do ya Milady?”
The countess sniffed disdainfully before replying, “Mr. Capone, I barely tolerate you. As for Mr. Beach, let us say that a mead brewer has no place in this society,” the countess finished with a dark curl to her lips.
“You do realize that before Old Donn joined us he had a fortune to rival yours. Besides where would you go to get your Bloody Tiki’s,” Al asked the countess snidely.
“I suppose he does have his uses,” the Countess consented.
“You’re a real dame, you know that,” Al sarcastically replied.
The Countess rolled her eyes. “Mr. Capone I am the Countess Bathory and you will treat me with the respect due my rank,” she commanded sharply.
“Loosen ya girdle. You ain’t alive anymore Countess.
“That air breathin’ family of yours might be, but you ain’t. You don’t have rank in this world,” Al harshly informed.
Countess Bathory took a deep breath as her dark eyes blazed, “Mr. Capone that is one insult too far. You will apologize or face someone who has greater power in our world than you could ever dream of have when last you felt the sunshine on your pasty skin,” she threatened.
“Ya girdle’s too tight,” Al sneered.
Countess Bathory trembled at this outrage. When she opened her pale lips another voice spoke, “Mr. Capone. We’ve had this conversation before. You are not to upset those of us who are of a different view than you. I would hate to be forced to take action for this so close to All Hallow’s Eve.”
The person who spoke paler by ten shades than the Countess although he was just as transparent. On his head was a bejeweled and fur crown over long dark hair. His features were narrow and he radiated cold.
“Impaler Lord, nice of you to join us,” Al greeted with a wince.
“We had an agreement, Mr. Capone,” the Impaler Lord softly intimated as his eyes glowed red from the low light in the bar.
“Impaler Lord, the dame was sneering down her nose at Old Donn. She enjoys his product as much as the rest of us,” Al reasoned.
The Impaler Lord curled his lips at Al, “I sincerely doubt that the Countess said a harsh word towards the brewer, Mr. Capone. Even if she had, you are not the one to call a superior on their actions. This is the way things have been since we ghosts started crossing the barriers,” the Impaler Lord softly thundered.
Al scrunched his portly features in vexation. Without saying another word Al faded from view leaving a red glow behind.
“Pitiful man,” Countess Bathory whispered disdainfully while the Impaler Lord chuckled.
“True Countess. But he did make a valid point,” the Impaler Lord pointedly stated.
“What, pray tell, was that,” Countess Bathory sniffed.
“Twill be All Hallow’s Eve soon. You have fresh blood you should check on,” he quietly stated.
The Countess quietly shook her noble head as she answered, “They have forgotten my name and blood. Never did they try to regain what was taken. ‘Tis best to leave them to their own devices on this holiday.”
“Here you are Countess,” a cheery voice announced as he walked up to the table that both renowned figures had taken after Al left the bar.
Old Donn had left his place at the bar and neatly placed a bloody drink in front of the her on an embroidered silk napkin. Donn placed the same drink in front of the Impaler Lord.
The Countess nodded her in thanks as Donn walked away. “Our world is depressing Countess. We only get one time a year to cross freely. You should take advantage of it,” the Impaler Lord tried again.
“Milord, in your lifetime you were a well known prince of men. You ruled effectively and while circumstances decreed that times were harsh you are not remembered as a man who ended hunger for a time. All you are thought of today is as a ruthless tyrant who craved blood as Vlad Dracul, Prince of Transylvania.
“Me, they call the Blood Countess. None of them know of the plagues and famine I faced, instead they know me on trumped up charges of torture and murder.
“What have they given us to go back to,” Countess Bathory demanded as she grabbed her drink.
“So much hatred and you don’t even raise your voice. What intrigues are you plotting Countess,” Vlad enquired.
“Intrigues, Milord? I have no considerations for the world of flesh and bone,” she quietly stated.
“Seeing the sights of the Old World doesn’t interest you,” Vlad tried again.
“Nay. The sweet winds of my youth left me long ago,” Countess Bathory confirmed.
“Countess, we both come from a darker age where intrigues were easier to hide,” Vlad insinuated.
Countess Bathory pursed her lips as she thought. Letting out a ghostly breath she replied, “The church in Annaberg is holding a masquerade is to be held on the night of All Hallow’s Eve. In my youth it was lovely this time of year, surely it still must be,” the Countess answered wistfully.
“Indeed,” Vlad asked with a raised eyebrow.
The Countess confirmed with a nod of her head.
Vlad’s red eyes glowed brightly as he queried, “Would you be in need of an escort for such an occasion?”
Countess Bathory coyly smiled at the ancient prince as she bowed her head and said, “‘Twould be a shame for me to attend the event unaccompanied.”
“In that case will you allow myself to escort you to the masquerade under the glow of the moon?”
Countess Bathory nodded her head regally as she sipped from her drink.
Vlad raised his glass and toasted, “To All Hallow’s Eve, Milady. An evening sure to filled with dancing under a carpet of stars enhanced only by the beauty of a moonlit path.”