Readers sink their teeth into vampire lore

It never fails.

Once the darkness begins creeping in earlier and the evening chill becomes brisk, Las Vegas sheds its comforting summertime sheen and becomes, well, a bit more foreboding.

Still, even we had no idea just how forboding Las Vegas could be. But you've reminded us of that -- and, really, thanks ever so much -- via your entries in our 2009 VampireFest short story competition.

In celebration of Halloween and the current pop culture craze with all things bloodsucky, we asked you to craft vampire tales with a Las Vegas bent. In response, we received about 180 stories penned by authors of all ages, including budding Stephen Kings from about a half-dozen valley schools.

Our thanks to all. But only one story can win the $100 grand prize. After spirited debate ending just short of bloodletting, we chose Donna Diaco of Las Vegas who struck a vein with her melancholy tale of a Las Vegas vampire who has seen it all.

Here, we present Diaco's story, along with our other finalists. If you hunger for more, visit our Web site (www.lvrj.com/vampire).

Happy Halloween!

'A Night at the Stratosphere'

By Donna Diaco, 53, Las Vegas

 

The tourists had gone. It was dark, quiet. The pale woman peeked out into the dead of night -- her only friend. She stood at the top of the Stratosphere, a gust of desert wind pulling at her long copper hair. She hated to say goodbye to the lights far below shimmering like a diamond necklace encased in black velvet -- the shining jewels of Vegas.

She could have chosen the Luxor. The top of the pyramid was as dramatic as the vertical beauty of the Stratosphere, reminiscent of the now imploded Landmark Hotel. Oh, how she missed old Vegas! The Thunderbird, the Dunes, the Stardust -- the glamour, the glitz, the romance.

She reminisced further of the days when a lady in high heels and red lipstick could safely stroll the sidewalks of Las Vegas Boulevard ... the night winds playing with the skirt of a girl passing a stranger, tugging lightly at his jacket, whispering a polite invitation into his ear, then awaiting a shake of his head or a nod as to whether she walked on or took his arm in satisfaction.

The glorious nights of Vegas, where the iridescent jewels shone like sparklers on the Fourth of July, like rows of Christmas lights. The Stardust had the most beautiful sign she'd ever seen -- like a giant Christmas ornament. Her favorite, now gone.

Yet, it was beneath that very sign before dawn, decades ago, while walking the streets on business, that she had encountered the stranger.

She had awakened, piled in a heap, the stranger gone, a gaping wound in the left side of her long white neck. That was the last thing she remembered about her old life.

Thereafter, she no longer required anything -- not makeup, not food, not even water in the desert. She hadn't even aged. She was frozen in time ...

Now at the top of the Stratosphere overlooking her beloved city, she pondered her great loneliness. Even the stranger who had sucked the life out of her had disappeared. She apparently was the only vampire in Vegas. And when she fed, she never allowed her prey to become the undead -- not even for companionship.

Below, the twinkling gems beckoned her. Yet, jumping would do no good. She had tried that at Mandalay Bay.

The stranger who had made her this way hadn't left a manual, a self-help book, not a clue as to how to aimlessly wander around Vegas as a vampire.

She missed laughing, eating food, being with friends ... and sunshine.

She walked around the tower until she faced due east overlooking Sunrise Mountain. She waited ...

Since that dreadful night long ago beneath the Stardust sign, she had longed for just one thing, no matter what: To see another sunrise.

Saying farewell to the dimming lights of Vegas, she faced the glorious hues of red, orange and yellow blazing the sky as the sun came up over Sunrise Mountain. She smiled happily, and vaporized into the new and final day ... finding peace at last.

 

'The Big Test'

By Brie Gorter, 10, Tomiyasu Elementary School, Las Vegas

 

First, I thought I was at home sleeping. All of a sudden, I woke up running! At first, I had no idea where I was. Then, I looked around. I realized that I was running around my school, Tomiyasu Elementary School, in Las Vegas.

I didn't know why, or what I was running from, until I looked back. I was running from a bat, but not just any bat. It was a vampire bat! At once, I started screaming and ran faster. "Aaaah!"

A few minutes later, it stopped. I wondered why. In a blink of an eye, it transformed into what I thought was a human but was a vampire! I slowly backed up and he started at me. I started running again, but it was no use. I was as slow as a turtle! He caught me and bit me!

I laid there as if I died with my eyes wide open. But I wasn't dead. I was breathing perfectly. A couple minutes later, I stood up and just stood there like a zombie, completely still and looking into lala land. The mysterious vampire told me to meet him every night in that exact same place were I stood and to act like a normal human.

So, I skipped back to my house. When I laid down in my bed, I tried to close my eyes but my body wouldn't let me! I knew that I can turn into a bat. Just then, I realized that bats are nocturnal! So, I just watched TV. All night.

The next night, I met the vampire as told, and he told me his name. He said, "My name is Bobert!" I burst into laughter. He then commanded, "Stop!" I did as told. He told me that Bobert is his real name, and that was a test, and that I didn't pass.

So, he turned me back into a human. It was like being a witch on a broomstick, then instantly turned back into a human, and you fall because you're not able to fly any more. Then, of course you fall, right? And that big thud? That's what it felt like. "THUD!"

I always pass on all of my tests! This was my first BIG fat red "F"! Now, I live a boring, dull, plain life full of "A's."

'Victor the Vampire

Video Poker Machine'

By James Altman, 30, Las Vegas

 

Ouch! This machine is red-hot."

That was all it took to bring a flood of fortune seekers out of the buffets and movie theaters. The multitude spread out over the whole of the casino floor looking like honeybees searching for nectar in a field of neon flowers. Gradually, the noise of the initial rush died down as patrons laid claim to the machine they believed most likely to hit the next big jackpot. At length, everyone was happily humming along with the clanking of coins that is Nevada's real state song.

The gaming machines hardly noticed the commotion, since silicon chips and copper wiring are not usually known for their powers of observation. That is, except for one. Somewhere in the middle of the tangle of ordinary video poker machines sat Victor, a machine with much more than ordinary artificial intelligence. He had noticed every detail of the rush because he had been the cause of it. He had bitten the fingers of the gambler whose cry had brought everyone else running.

While your average video poker machine can't bite anybody, lacking teeth or even a mouth, Victor had the means around that particular problem. Victor was a vampire. Mind you, not that he started out that way. He began his life (such as it was) like any other gaming machine, on an assembly line in some factory the name of which he had forgotten. He'd been brought to the casino some years ago. He had performed his duties well; paying out thousands of dollars until one night about six months ago, when a pale-skinned fellow dressed all in black, after one too many Bloody Marys and losing hands of video poker, showed his fangs and bit down hard three times on the machine in front of him. Thus, Victor came alive.

As yet another unsuspecting tourist, a pretty, green-eyed, 20-something blonde in a wedding dress, sat down in front of Victor, his familiar procedure began anew. First, he dealt a succession of small winning hands. While none of them was a major jackpot, they were enough to keep her playing.

Gradually, the various cards were replaced on the screen by words. First "relax" then "drift away" and shortly thereafter "surrender." Though she had been at first shocked by the strange words, the young lady found herself unable to look elsewhere, and gradually the words became her thoughts. Victor's mechanism played a lullaby so soft only she could hear it. As her eyes closed, her muscles relaxed and her fingers stretched out over the buttons. Two had sharp ridges like fangs. As a small amount of blood dripped from her fingers down through a hole into Victor's inner workings the words "Yum Yum" flashed across the screen. In a few moments, she awoke and, making the same cry as her predecessor, walked away nursing two inexplicably sore fingers.

 

'Salivating Salvation'

By Isabelle Bellinghausen,16, Green Valley High School, Henderson

 

I love my job.

Surrounded every day by quarts of easy-to-access ruby-red liquid is all it takes to get my heart racing (in theory at least).

In this era of "modern innovation," quenching those little hunger spells involves a new level of ingenuity for my kind (vampires for those slower readers in the audience). Those days of nibbling-daintily-at-the-neck-of-a-scantily-clad-woman have, alas, come to an end although, living in the sin city of Vegas, it's not for lack of half-naked women, let me tell you.

The problems, my friends, lie in the fact that women are no longer the eager-to-please ninnies of the past. Once the initial seduction passes, they start working at you with commitment, marriage, and possibly the chance to eat garlic bread at the nice little Italian joint you took them to on your last date. I thought I knew torture before, but now I know the true meaning of the word.

So as I was walking to my dark-tinted Mini Cooper, the solution to my woes literally fell into my lap. An A positive (interesting trivia fact: once one has been turned, knowing your potential dinner's blood type from a distance is included in the package) young girl tripped over the curb, sending a volley of papers into the air. One copy fluttered its way over to me and stated in crisp, clear print there was a job opening at United Blood Services. If I were capable of having a heart attack, I would have.

I was a shoo-in for the job; steady with a needle, exuding an air befitting of Dracula himself (without the cape), and open for business. I feel like an alcoholic locked in a wine cellar. This is heaven.

My first night, I popped the plastic top on a lovely O negative (from a hobo looking for an easy way to make a buck, who was heartbroken to hear this was a nonprofit organization). I poured it in my favorite martini glass and put in an olive to complete the image. I realized at that exact moment ... how much I hate olives. Ah well, I tried.

Now my nights are spent with the precision and dedication a perfumist displays when searching for that signature scent. I mix, experiment, gag, and create a new concoction whenever it strikes my fancy.

My results: Never mix a cheerleader with a dentist (under any circumstances); historians provide a nice, smooth consistency perfect for deep meaningful thoughts; and gym teachers always leave an aftertaste likened to that of gym socks.

My late-night snacking has led to my pants becoming increasingly tight. I suppose one would obtain more exercise with the old techniques of stalking one's prey. But then again, as an American vampire, I have the right to join the ranks of the obese (in lieu of the ranks of the undead).

 

'Chairman of the Brood'

By Mark Onspaugh, 55, Los Osos, Calif.

 

The day Frank's sub died, he was so depressed he canceled his show at Tut's Tomb.

"Here," offered Dean, "have a Bloody Shirley."

"What the hell is that?" Frank growled.

"Oh, just some vodka, Worcestershire sauce ... and a shot of Shirley."

"Surely you jest," cracked Sammy, shooting pool with Joey and Peter.

"Nay, nay. I have several Shirleys on tap: Temple, Bassey and MacLaine."

"Is that what you do all day," Frank groused. "Invent drinks?"

"Well, I can't play golf, can I?" Dean said wistfully.

"Frank, my man," Sammy said, "you gotta get out of this funk. We all lost our subs years ago."

"Except me," Joey said, raising his hand.

"Dear boy, who would notice the difference?" Peter quipped. Joey adopted his signature look of wounded surprise, but Frank didn't laugh.

Everyone in "The Night Shift" had trained mortal look-alikes to carry on their careers topside. Vegas' hippest vamps had then used their millions to build Under-Vegas, a subterranean version of the Strip where no one need fear the harsh Nevada sun.

"I need to see the Sands," Frank said, "and the Sahara."

"The Flamingo," smiled Dean dreamily.

"You know it's dangerous to go topside," Sammy said.

"One night, my miniature friend," Frank replied. "If we're spotted, we'll deny that we're a tribute act."

"Which will convince everyone we are a tribute act," agreed Dean.

"We could call ourselves 'The Bat Pack,' " Joey quipped.

Frank looked at Joey. "I should stick a stake in you myself."

"Ring-a-ding," Joey said, opening his shirt to expose his thin chest.

Frank laughed and retrieved his coat and hat from the curvaceous banshee working the coat check.

Sammy frowned. "I'm telling you cats, the place has changed."

Frank chuckled. "It's Vegas, baby, what could change?"

* * *

"The Dunes was right here," Frank exclaimed, standing in front of Bellagio.

"What's with all the kids?" wondered Dean.

"It's a family place, now," offered Joey.

"Vegas? That ain't gonna fly, brother," declared Frank.

They discussed their options at the Sahara, the only place they found familiar.

Frank, it turned out, had real vision. They would raze the Strip and re-create the splendor of the '60s. Family-friendly attractions would be moved to a sister town, "Nuestra Familia," along with a water park, amusement park and zoo. The two would be connected by monorail, and no one under 18 could get into Vegas.

Casino owners were anxious to comply, once they realized Frank and the others were not only legit, but undead. The only holdout was a young upstart who owned several large properties. "The Night Shift" and their gleaming fangs could not sway him.

But when Frank's attorneys walked out of a flaming pentagram, documents impaled on their forked tails and horns and teeth glinting, the upstart lost his nerve.

Later, the boys laughed over martinis.

"I think the kid wet his pants," laughed Frank.

"Oh my," said Dean. "Guess he thought you were being metaphorical when you said you had friends in the Underworld!"