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    Jane the Hippie Vampire: Love Beads
    Jane the Hippie Vampire: Love Beads
    Jane the Hippie Vampire: Love Beads
    Ebook71 pages1 hour

    Jane the Hippie Vampire: Love Beads

    By Lisa Lane

    ()

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    About this ebook

    She's broke and homeless. She's a vegetarian. She's undead.

    Jane has had one hell of a time ever since she bumped into the wrong guy during the Summer of Love, but she's taken it all in stride. Wandering from town to town, she seeks out the needy and the broken in hopes of breaking the curse that's left her bloodthirsty and forever seventeen.

    In this first novella in the dramatic horror series, Jane the Hippie Vampire, Jane crosses paths with a middle-aged man who's encountered her kind before--but he seems happy just to have the company. Of course, appearances can be deceiving, and his secret might just prove to be the end of her.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLisa Lane
    Release dateJun 15, 2015
    ISBN9781311306227
    Jane the Hippie Vampire: Love Beads
    Author

    Lisa Lane

    Lisa Lane has been writing for over twenty years. She has ten published novels dozens of published short stories divided among different genre-specific pseudonyms. For more information about Leigh M. Lane and her writing, visit her website at http://www.cerebralwriter.com.

    Read more from Lisa Lane

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      Book preview

      Jane the Hippie Vampire - Lisa Lane

      Jane the Hippie Vampire

      A Cerebral Books

      Original Publication

       Leigh M. Lane

      © All rights reserved.  With the exception of short excerpts used for critical analysis or literary review, no part of this text may be reproduced without the author's written permission.

      All characters portrayed in this book are fictitious.  Any similarities with known persons, real or imagined, are purely coincidental.

      Love Beads

      THE LATE afternoon sun negated any relief the light breeze might have offered, and the mottled shadow cast by the massive oak tree stretching overhead wasn't much more helpful.  Jane slumped on a park bench, dozing on and off, a wide-brimmed hat and boxy sunglasses obscuring her face.  Her backpack sat beside her, one arm threaded through the shoulder straps to deter potential thieves, and she crossed her legs at the ankles.  She wore a ragged pair of blue jeans and a Doobie Brothers tee shirt so old the applique had cracked and faded beyond recognition.  Her bare feet were calloused and in desperate need of a good scrub.

      She'd find a decent place to crash soon.  There was at least one Good Samaritan in every town, and they were usually easy enough to spot.  Patience was the key.  That—and a practical sense of when the local heat had decided she'd overstayed her welcome.  Hanging around anywhere long enough to be recognized was a bad thing.  Recognition led to suspicion, which led to a slippery slope that began with harassment and ended with the gas chamber.  She'd seen it happen before, and it was a pretty hellish fate for those on the difficult side of killing.  There was no respectable place left in this world for vampires, not at least that she'd found, and it was not at all hospitable to a burned-out flower child who couldn't seem to pull her head out of the sixties.

      A handful of adolescents infiltrated the park, putting an end to the peaceful quiet she'd been fortunate enough to have enjoyed for the last couple of hours.  The disruption had been inevitable, and she took it in stride despite her exhaustion.  She sat upright, watched the kids play flag football for a few minutes, and then donned her backpack and made her way to the sidewalk.  It was a sunny day, not at all comfortable, and the heat instilled an aching desire to curl up on the side of the street and slip quietly into a coma.  Such extended exposure would undoubtedly do just that—before it reduced her hide to burnt leather—so she moved as quickly as her sluggish legs would take her to the shady overhangs of the buildings across the street.

      The town she'd found herself in was small and quaint, with boutiques and small shops packed within a tiny radius.  The smell of fried food permeated from a nearby greasy spoon.  She considered going in, but she only had a few bucks and some change on her.  Moreover, a diner was far from ideal for mingling with the locals.  Mingling was the objective; luxuries like food—people food—were secondary.

      Not like food wasn't a necessity in its own right, just like water and doobage.  A girl could only go so long without her doobage.  Life was mundane enough as it was.  A little variety, beyond blood type, was all that stood between her and insanity.

      She continued forward, picking up the pace when she saw a sign up ahead reading Nick's Café.  The place had a covered patio, where a couple dozen hipsters and the like sat in small groups enjoying their mochas and cappuccinos.  Light jazz played through an outside speaker; despite it, a middle-aged man with an acoustic guitar strummed a tawdry ballad for a few interested onlookers.  A couple nearby played chess on a board painted onto their table.  Both stared at their pieces as though their lives depended on their next moves.  A few tables over, a twenty-something woman with platinum-bleached hair and black skinny jeans sat alone smoking a cigarette.

      Jane went inside to order a coffee, hoping the house brew was within her price range.  The music was much louder indoors, and the sitting area was crowded and stuffy.  Although it was comfortably dim, the no smoking sign was a bigger deterrent than the shaded daylight outside.

      A barista with a dozen piercings between his ears and face gave her a lukewarm smile.  Hi.  What can I get for you?

      She glanced up at the menu on the wall behind him before answering, I'll just have a small coffee.

      For here or to go?

      Here, please.

      Room for cream and sugar?

      No, thank you.

      He filled a small, glass mug with coffee from a two-foot-tall holding tank and set it on the counter between them.  He rang up the order.  That'll be two and a nickel.

      She pulled the small wad of singles and change from her pocket, paid the man, then assessed what she had left before pocketing the change.

      The barista looked annoyed that she opted not to leave a tip but said nothing.  Have a good one.

      She nodded her thanks and returned to the patio.  She found a seat near the smoking woman and leaned toward her to ask if she might bum a cigarette.

      The woman handed her two then offered her lighter without needing to be asked.

      The extra show of generosity was a good sign, one she'd

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