Reuben Shupp

Reuben Shupp is the author of Short Stories or Tales, Creepy and Scary Tales, and hs latest, Vampire Juice. He discovered his love of prose when he started writing a memoir for his children. Shupp is passionate about writing horror for middle grade and young adults.

Here is a short exerpt from Reuben Shupp's book, 'Vampire Juice.'

I leave Amanda alone to sort through the different vampire ensembles. A faint whisper of someone saying my name rings in my ears. I follow the sound to another part of the store. It stops in front of a closet door.
An object about the size of a soda rests on a dusty shelf. It is almost as if this can has been on the shelf for years. I grab it and turn it over in my hands. The sound of footsteps distracts me.
I turn my head. “Look what I found?” I show Amanda the can, but I am careful not to let her touch it.
“Ooh, a dusty can,” she uses her sarcastic voice. “Where did you find it? Under one of the shelves?”
“The can was calling my name.” I rub the front label. After a few seconds, a cartoon-looking vampire stares back at me.
“Awesome! Let me have a look.” She takes the can from my grasp.
“Hey. I was looking at it”
"Don’t worry. I’ll give it back.” She peers at the vampire and then tilts her head for a few seconds. “Look at this.” She points to something under the picture. “What do you suppose it is?”
I take the can back. “Only one way to find out.” I lick my finger and uncover a ‘V’. Then I lick my finger again and an ‘A’. appears.
“Goodness gracious! I’d hate to watch you open Christmas presents.” She snatches the can and wipes the grime with her shirt. We stare at the label.
“Vampire Juice?” I ask. "What in the world is Vampire Juice?”
“Think about it. What do vampires drink?”
An old clerk comes around the corner. “What are you kids doing here?”
Amanda’s nostrils flare out. “Shopping for a Halloween costume," she retorts. He looks at Amanda and then at me.
He grabs the can. “Where did you get this?” The clerk shakes the Vampire Juice in front of our faces. He does not wait for us to respond. “It’s not for sale.” He unlocks the closet door and goes inside.
“It is time for you troublemakers to leave,” snarls the clerk. He escorts us to the front of the store as if we are shoplifters.
Amanda looks at me. She has a confused look on her face. “I have no idea what is going on,” I say with my eyebrows.