Vampires in the Lemon Grove

 "Are we monsters now?" Tooka wants to know....

Dai considers.

In the end she tells the new reelers about the juhyou, the "snow monsters," snow-and-ice-covered trees in Zao Onsen, her home.  "The snow monsters" --Dai smiles, rushing her white whiskers --"are very beautiful.  Their disguises make them beautiful.  But they are still tress, you see, under all that frost."  "Reeling for the Empire" p. 31

This is a short story collection which I selected as a blind date at the library.  The snapshot I was given: collection of stories, supernatural, bone-chilling, fantasy and horror.   Like virtually every short story collection, you like some better than others.  For me the highlights were: "Reeling for the Empire", "The Barn at the End of Our Term", and "The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutus".

"'God?'

The man seemed a little on the short side to be God.  His fly was down, his polka-dotted underclothes exposed.  Surely God would not have faded crimson dots on his underclothes? Surely God would wear a belt?" "The Barn at the End of Our Term"  p.114

This was my favorite, "The Barn".  A horse farm home to 11 horses and 11 former presidents (re?)incarnated into horses.  The story focuses on the experience of President Rutherford Hayes. I was amused.  I had fun. 

"At dawn, Heaven is a feeling that comes when the wind sweeps the fields.  Heaven is the wind, Rutherford knows for an instant, bending a million yellow heads of wheat." "The Barn at the End of Our Term" p.130

While the appearance of the Eric Mutus scarecrow in "The Graveless Doll" may have a supernatural origin, the horror of this tale resides in the everday world of middle school and the bullies that need to beat you until the screaming stops. 

"At school, Camp Dark beat down kids as a foursome.  We did this in an animal silence.  We'd drag a hysterical kid behind the redbrick Science Building -- ususally a middle schooler, a sixth - or seventh- grader-- and then we would hammer and piston our fists into his clawing, shrilling body until the kid went slack as rags.  I heard those screams like they were coming out of my own throat and found I couldn't relax until the kid did.... We desperately needed this quiet that only our victims could produce for us, the silence that came after an attack: it was as essential to our friendship as breathing air.  As blood is to a vampire.  We'd kneel there, panting toether, and let the good quiet bubble out of the snotty kid and into our lungs."  "The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutus".

 p. 212