This week’s prompt is
Presenting A Front
Little Tittweaking likes to see itself as an open minded and welcoming town. During the Wars of Religion, as Protestant and Catholic creeds took every opportunity to poke fun at the other, Little Tittweaking gave safe harbour to the one sect that straddled the two faiths, the Bouncing Nuns of St Hilda whose devotions were enhanced by their ability to leap several metres while debating the merits of transubstantiation during meal breaks. History might have forgotten these worthy women had it not been for the creation of an early Interfaith Basketball league. The nuns, despite being below average height outperformed all comers. It was only as a result of the removal of the ‘holy’ sourdough from the menu that led to their resigning the league.
Recently, the debate around the local trans community has become especially heated and caused that self-serving self-image to slip somewhat. Transylvanian vampires have been resident in the Copse of Bucharest for one hundred and forty years. Their home derives its name from the Corpse of Bucharest which the displaced Romanian vampires brought with them to sustain them on their journey. The sensitive Victorians, however felt this too graphic and on one especially sunny day removed the ‘r’ and buried the remains. Since then the Corpse/Copse has formed the site of Little Tittweaking’s overspill cemetery famous for its sinister aspect and blood oaks.
This trans community has been happy to supplement its sanguination needs by draining random tourists, the bloody-minded Yorkshire folks being an especial delicacy and a growing mail order business. At the same time, it has self funded its bat boxes via Halloween extravaganzas and high value contract killings. Generally trans and non trans have rubbed along fine with those of a non-vampiric inclination wearing high grade chain mail chokers, just in case.
However, since the popularity of televisual vampires, a number of youngsters have been self-identifying as Transylvanian, wearing fake fangs and imbibing unclotting blackcurrant substitutes. Camps of noisy teens have grown amongst the graves and their day-raves disturbed the sleep of the truly vampiric.
Demands for safe spaces have soared. These would allow those born vampiric and who have been through the conversion procedures that involve the decapitation of innocents to live their undead existences free from interference by some blonde vigilante, wielding a set of perfect abs, a neat bob and a sharpened wooden stake.
Initially the local council were reluctant to intervene, arguing that everyone should live and let live (or have their throats ripped out, and stay undead, depending on their preferences) until the senior vampire pointed out that if they withdrew their fangs in protest, not only would the money made around Halloween drop significantly but there would be nothing to limit the influx of knowall bores from Peebles and Pontefract.
A compromise is currently under discussion.