In the blue hour before full darkness and curfew, Annabelle and her current boyfriend and his friend walked along the path to the miniature golf course, under colored lights on strings like a Christmas-tree lot; the plaster creatures and landscape reared up strangely in the livid light. The miniature golf course had been created two decades before by eighteen local artists. A missile dangled nose down over a screaming mouth that formed one hole; displaced planes of highway tip-tilted, as if a Los Angeles apocalypse had befallen the interstate, trucks all awry, to set up a very tricky shot into a pothole two tiers below. The final hole was a reverie on the Day of the Dead, where grinning porcelain skulls with neon eyes all blinked when the ball settled into the cup.
Erika had always liked this folly, with its dark suggestions of what might live under the surface of everyday life, but she did not like the aimless chatter, as Annabelle clung to the boy’s arm, and he put his arm around her waist in a rather proprietary way. Nor did she miss the avid eyes of his friend, looking at them and then at her.
Six Sentence Sunday excerpts in June come from the most recent draft of Erika and the Vampire, currently being revised for release in July 2012.