Misspelling Love

Based on the Prompt:  Write about someone who finds a way to pull a vampire character from fiction into reality.

about 2,590 words

Ryan rubbed at his forehead and then at his eyes, took a deep breath and sighed loudly.  The story he was writing was not working out.  He needed Isabelle to fall in love with Evan but she simply refused.  She was happy to drink his blood, but she didn’t want to love him, didn’t even really seem to like him.  Ryan stretched and stood, heading over to the sink to get a glass of water.  A thought struck him and he began laughing softly.

“Yes, a spell, I will cast a love spell,” it was a silly, whimsical idea, pulled mainly from the fact that his sister had recently announced she was a witch.  His parents had grilled her for hours about just what that meant, and then asked Ryan to speak with her on their behalf.  As it turned out she was a witch of the Wiccan variety.  It wasn’t Ryan’s first encounter with Wicca, as a writer he’d researched it at one point.  Anyhow, he’d loaned his parents a reference book and told them the more they bothered her, the less likely she was to change her mind.  Ryan didn’t personally care if she changed her mind at all.  Religion didn’t figure highly into his daily concerns.

“Hmm, let me see.”  Ryan gathered up some candles, a lighter, a low bowl and a bag of potpourri his mother had given him.  She’d insisted it would make the apartment smell better.  He wasn’t casting a particular spell.  They probably didn’t have one for making two fictional characters fall in love anyhow.  He was improvising.  He had read somewhere that improvisation was an honored tradition among witches.  Grinning he lit the candles.  If this worked maybe he would convert and become a witch too.

“We have gathered today to talk of this thing called love,” he snickered at himself.  Wasn’t that the introduction to a song by Prince?  Clearing his throat and gesturing grandly with his hands he continued.  “The love of Isabelle the vampire, for E…” he had been waving his hands around mystically and mistakenly splashed water on the computer keyboard he used for writing.  “Oops,” he ran and grabbed some paper towels to dab up the water.  “Now, where was I, right, Isabella’s love,” he lifted the potpourri, "may it truly bring life to her, may her love make her bloom into a new person, a real person, one who will fully love E…”  This time he stopped because the fire alarm was going off.  “Well, shit.”

Ryan blew out the candles, but as the fire alarm was still going off, he joined the rest of the tenants in evacuating the building.  An hour later he was heading back into the building with the knowledge that his candles had had nothing to do with the alarm.  Evidently someone had forgotten they were baking cookies.  He was glad it hadn’t been him.  Yawning, he set about cleaning the mess he’d made.

“Well Isabelle, I hope you’ll be good to me anyhow,” he commented as he climbed into bed later that night.

*

Ryan smelled the mysterious scent of pancakes.  It was a mysterious scent wholly because he lived alone, and he was just in the middle of waking up.  Waking up was always a bit confusing, but the pancake scent was definitely making it more difficult than usual.

“Mom?”  His mumbled question brought him completely out of sleep.  His mother didn’t have a key to his apartment, did she?  Was it an ex-girlfriend, stalking him?  If it was, what would he do?  He’d do what any sane man would do of course, eat the pancakes, and  then tell her he still wasn’t interested in going out.  Armed with a plan Ryan got up and went straight into the shower.  Once he was clean and dressed he’d pretty much convinced himself that the smell must have risen from the apartment below.  That was why he jumped when he reached the kitchen.  It was one of the reasons at any rate.  The other reason had to do with the fact that a fictional character was grinning at him, her sharp pointy fangs glistening in the daylight.  He screamed.

“Get out of the sun!”  Grabbing her wrist he pulled her with all the force he could muster out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.  Scanning the room his eyes fell on the closet.  Still pulling her by the wrist he shoved her into the closet and closed it.  A lock of her black, curly hair stuck out of the door for a moment then disappeared.  Ryan was still in the middle of panicking.  What if sunlight seeped in through the cracks and killed her?  He went to his hamper and started pulling out clothes to stuff in the crack under the door.

“Ryan!”  It was Isabelle.  Actually, as he thought about it, she’d been yelling his name since he’d grabbed her wrist.

“What?”  He began stuffing a pair of jeans into the crack.

“I’m fine.”

“Good,” he nodded.  At least the sunlight hadn’t killed her.  What if she died?  How would she ever get together with Evan if she… Wait…  “Hold on, how can you be?  That is how… What… Wait!”  Ryan pulled the jeans out from under the door and threw the closet door open.  Yes, this was Isabelle, slim with wicked curves, pale skin, almost translucent, large deep blue eyes that were almost black, hair that fell in long black spirals to the middle of her back.  Even her lips, painted in a deep red, like blood, full and sensuous, that was Isabelle.  He found that he couldn't take his eyes off her for several minutes.  She really was more like a doll than a real person.  Those eyes were too big for her face, with long thick eyelashes.  Her arched eyebrows were pencil thin and her nose slightly upturned and a bit too small for her face.  She was completely enchanting, exactly as he'd imagined her in his mind.

“Impossible.”  He sat down on the ground with a loud thump.  She held out one of his blue plastic plates, covered in steaming pancakes.

“Good morning Ryan, would you like some pancakes?  I made them fresh.”  She was smiling again.  Ryan reached out and took the plate.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  Isabelle was taking this all in stride.  Of course he’d created her that way, and it was one of the things he loved most about her.

“You aren’t real,” he blurted.

“I am too.”

“No, I mean, no, just no.”

“How can you say I’m not real?  Haven’t I always been real to you?”  Her lips were drawn together in a pout.  Ryan could see she was no longer happy with him.

“To me you’re real, well sort of.  I mean you have your own characteristics, flaws and merits, a distinct appearance, a wardrobe, a past, and a present.  I mean you’re real like that.”  She was wearing his favorite outfit, a long form fitting red satin skirt with a black velvet top.  He liked to put her in it for special occasions.

“You aren’t this kind of real though.  You aren’t walking and talking in my own world without me writing it kind of real.”  He took hold of the fork, which was tucked neatly under the pancakes, and used it to take a bite of them.  They tasted very good.  “Sunlight is supposed to kill you, you know.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem to be working.  Maybe I’m immune to the sunlight.  You’ve never actually put me in it.”

“Of course I haven’t.  It would kill you!”  Isabelle offered him her hand.

“It isn’t, so stop worrying over it.  Come on, you can’t eat breakfast on the floor.  Let’s sit together in the kitchen at that cute little plastic table of yours.”  Bemused, Ryan allowed her to help him up and made his way to the kitchen table with her.  Was it cute?  He supposed from her point of view it would be.  Her home was filled with antique wood furniture.  She lived in a huge airy manor with a few trusted servants.  Modern day had only touched the place with the addition of a telephone and more recently a TV.  What was he doing?  He was thinking of the place like it was real.  He sat down at the table and looked across at her.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Of course I can.  I even cooked for Evan once, that pathetic little weasel.”  Suddenly Ryan saw a window of opportunity.  Here he was, talking to Isabelle.  What if he was hallucinating?  Who cared?  He should be willing to do anything for his art, right?  This was the perfect opportunity to try to change that attitude she had about Evan.

“About Evan, you know, he’s really not such a bad guy deep down.”

“You don’t think so, well then, why don’t you date him?”  She rolled her eyes, crossing her legs and sitting back in her chair across from him.  “I mean honestly, he has no sense of self.  The little twerp doesn’t even know exactly who or what he is.  He’s spineless, stupid, occasionally greedy, always feels sorry for himself, what’s to like?”

“He’s also sensitive, caring, occasionally very sweet, and he’s a really good lawyer, who could get you out of the fix you’re in.  You know you’re in a lot of trouble for losing control and killing that bartender.  People saw you.”  Ryan looked down and realized he’d eaten half of the pancakes already.  He got up and opened the fridge, pulled out the milk, opened it and stopped just short of drinking from the carton.  Isabelle was waving the back of her hand at him.

“Don’t worry about that, people don’t know what they saw.  I mean, they do, but nobody believes in vampires.”  Closing the fridge he opened a cabinet and took down a glass, which he filled with milk.

“How can you say that?  It doesn’t matter if they understand how he died.  They all saw you attack him before he keeled over.  There are government officials who have become very interested in you.”  Ryan snapped his mouth shut.  She wasn’t supposed to know about that part just yet.  Isabelle’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, are there?  Well, let them come and get me.  I have some scores to settle with them.  How could they even consider coming after me after all of the work my husband did for them?” 

“Is that the problem?  Are you still not over Richard after all these years?”  Ryan put the milk away and sat down, taking a drink and draining half the glass.  It had been 72 years since the death of Isabelle’s husband Richard.

“Of course I’m not over Richard.  I’ll always love Richard, but that has nothing to do with Evan.”  Isabelle paused and ran her finger across her lips, the way she always did when she was making a decision.  “I will never love Evan because I’m in love with someone else.”

“You’re in love with someone else?”  Ryan put his fork down, a bite of pancake hanging off of it, forgotten.  There weren’t very many other men in the story.  There was the police officer, the man at the grocery store, her best friend’s husband, her best friend’s lover, and a secret agent.  “Who?”  He didn’t like the way she smiled at him when he asked.

“You.”  Ryan stared at Isabelle, Isabelle stared back.  The kitchen clock ticked softly in the background.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you.  You’re perfect for me.  You have clear goals, a good mind, and you know who you are and what you want.  You’re actually a lot like Richard.  Besides, you’re in love with me too.”  Ryan found that it was hard to think.  He was in love with her.  He was often in love with his female characters, but it was never a big deal.  It helped him write.  When he loved them, he wanted to write their stories.  He enjoyed seeing them succeed and find love.  Isabelle was perfect for him, of course, with just two flaws.  One was still true, Isabelle was a vampire. 

Vampires lived forever, something which he would not be able to do.  Also, vampires took risks that he wouldn’t normally approve of someone he loved taking.  Then, there was the eroticism of feeding.  Vampires tended to not be monogamous.  Still, he shouldn’t need to sort out his feelings about that at all because of the second flaw.  The second one was increasingly under question, however.  Isabelle was a fictional character of his creation.  She was, wasn’t she?

“Isabelle, you can’t have me.  I’m not in the story.”  Ryan wasn’t sure if he was even making sense anymore.

“Well, I can have you now.  Take me out.  Let’s go do something.  How about a movie?” 

Leaving the rest of his food out on the table Ryan took her out.  They went to a movie, took a walk in the park and held hands.  When they returned he kissed her and the two of them fell into bed together. 

She drank his blood.  It was the most amazing feeling in the world.  It was just as he'd described it when he'd written it yet something more as well.  First, was a sudden burst of pain.  Then, there was the warmth which spread from his neck where she'd bitten him slowly out, washing through his body.  Next was sheer pleasure and that was where everything he'd ever written fell short.  There was no explaining the bliss that followed.  It was unspeakable, there were no words which conveyed the way his body felt.  He was floating, yet his senses were sharper than ever.  He was more aware of his body then ever before and of hers pressed against it.  The feeling seemed to last forever and yet it ended way too soon.  When she stopped he simply couldn't think, it was like his body and mind had done and felt to their limit.  As he fell into sleep Ryan thought he heard her speak.

“If you write yourself into my story, we can always be together,” her voice was soft and enticing.  When he woke Ryan was in bed alone.  There was a pair of jeans lying crumpled near his closet.  In the kitchen a plate sat on his table with shriveled, half eaten pancakes on it and a half full glass of milk.  He washed the milk down the drain quickly as he could already smell it from the doorway.  After, he went to his desk and booted up his computer.

Did he really want to be with a vampire?  Even if he did, could he live in Isabelle’s world?  These were questions he asked himself as he typed his new entry.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he should call his sister, or his parents but a part of him really didn't believe he'd be leaving.  Who ever heard of an author disappearing into his own book?  Of course there had been fiction on the topic but something like that couldn't ever really happen, could it?

Ryan’s parents never heard from him again.  Three months later they were forced to collect his things from his vacant apartment.  By that time they’d already reported him missing.  No one in town knew what happened to Ryan, but Ryan was happy with his decision, very, very happy.