Tales of Blood Clot Cafe

Directions Unclear (Part 1)

According to all known laws of aviation, the severed head of a vampire should not be able to fly. The vampire head flew anyways. Badly. Very badly.

The head floated through the air like a hot air balloon kept aloft by an invisible, and definitely paranormal, force. At least until the head decided to approach a lone individual wandering through streets that were not to be known of.

A sniff was all it took for the head to identify the wanderer as a fellow vampire. From their hesitant steps and the constant checking of something on smartphone, this other vampire seemed lost. And so the flying head decided to swoop in with all the finesse of a malfunctioning toy aeroplane.

- - -

Simon had had enough of biting into filthy unwashed skin just to get a quick meal. Not to mention that the neighbourhood cat lady was starting to question where the strays she fed every morning had been disappearing to.

Hunting for humans? Perish the thought! What if he made eye contact with the person? What if they asked him why he's trying to bite them? What if he messed up? No. He would definitely mess up. He always did. He'd mess up and he'd get reported.He could end up in the local paper as some bite-happy freak. What was left of his life would be ruined!

No.... No. No! This wasn't the time to go off on a tangent of anxiety. This was the time to figure out where he could get his fix of blood.

The last time Simon had visited the cafe, he had a friend to guide him. But, of course, he couldn't always rely on James to guide him around like some lost child. The guy had a social life anyways.

So here he was, lost in a maze of gray nondescript buildings at 2 am. How long had he been out here? An hour? Two hours? He was sure he had taken the same route he'd taken the last (and only) time James had taken him to the cafe.

He was looking down at the directions his friend had texted him earlier when something hit him. Physically. Right on the head. Simon let out a little yelp of pain and surprise. Rubbing the sore spot on his head, he turned around to see what had just fallen onto him.

It was an entire human head. Now resting on its side on the ground, it faced Simon with closed eyes.

"Jesus Christ!" Simon wheezed, staggering backwards away from the head. A cold sweat had formed upon his brow. He looked around with wide frantic eyes. Where did that come from? Was there anyone around to witness whatever the hell that just happened?

And then he a loud pained groan.

It had come from the decapitated head.

Eyelids fluttered open to reveal dark brown, almost black, eyes.

Simon froze.

The eyes blinked. And then the head stirred.

"Urghh..." The head tried to prop itself - no, herself- upright with a red glistening tendril that emerged from the gaping opening where her head once connected to her neck. She looked up to find a young man, either in his late twenties or early thirties, staring at her and looking like he was about to throw up.

He tried to step back, away from this strange and very alive decapitated woman, but his legs gave away. He landed on his rear.

"Uh...hey!" She chirped, trying to sound as alright as possible for someone who had just crash landed.

The man made a scared noise somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper. 

"Aw c'mon, dude. You're a vampire too, right?"

"..huh? Uh...yeah.."

"Right, so-"

"What...what are you?"