Ben Sheldon
DRAGULA, a vampire often in drag, frequents the gay establishments of San Francisco and the Bay Area, in search of blood victims. He proves to be an elusive flying bat for S.F.P.D and Oakland police, across the Bay. Search is complicated when a homophobic Oakland officer is assigned to investigate alongside a gay San Francisco counterpart. Friction galore ensues as the S.F. officer introduces the straight, uptight Oakland cop to gay Castro Street and its unholy haunts. By the time the two solve the puzzle of DRAGULA, the Oakland cop solves the enigma of his personality. The novel is a trip into horror, humor, and evolving human relationships.
Ben Sheldon spent his adult life in England and America, finally settling in the San Francisco Bay Area. In high school, at 16, he saw his first work in print – an article in a magazine. Pursuing an engineering degree, the writing bug kept following him, until he landed the job of technical editor of a scientific journal. Meantime, he immersed himself in the techniques of fiction writing, resulting in DRAGULA, his first novel. He is also an incurable poet.
It was Halloween in the Castro district, San Francisco''s gay hub. Several streets were closed to automobile traffic. Throngs of visiting gays and straights packed the carless streets from sidewalk to sidewalk. Among them was Carrol Channing, or perhaps her twin sister, since she was not in the City that November night. In fact, it was an excellent drag look-alike. "He" wore a tall white, baby-doll wig. It was thin and flat at the top, thick and bouncy, lower down; halting at the golden necklace. Thick eye shadow lined surprised bulging eyes, as though her finger was stuck in a live electric socket; a perfect illusion of Carrol Channing, traipsing down Castro Street. A "nun" on skates almost ran into "Channing"; who just managed to dodge the nun, as the nun''s boy friend scampered ahead of her shouting:
"Make way for Mother Inferior!"
Escaping the nun, she ran into a drag queen, wearing a hat, shaped as a bird''s cage. Two parakeets, inside the cage-hat, got quite a jostle. Carrol Channing could not make out the dirty words of the angry parakeets. The birds were saved by the drag queen''s companion; he wore a hat, rimmed with blinking tiny light bulbs. Channing''s beaded and sequined black dress got a little ruffled, but survived. She expected no less from her Bob Mackie dress, with its matching handbag, despite violent flailing. Her emerald bracelets outlasted the tussle. With its large, sparkling stars unscathed. Channing checked the two rings on the left-hand fingers: one with large diamond; the other with a small emerald. Both were still on, in mint condition. She sighed in relief, taking a whiff of barbecue smell past a restaurant.
When Carrol Channing was steady again, she thanked the man who grabbed her and aborted her fall onto the dirty asphalt. He was tanned, muscular, and young with brown eyes and hair to match.
"Enjoyed saving you, Miss Channing. Love your tight dress. What gives?" he asked with a naughty twinkle.
"What do you have to give?" she said.
"You wanna find out?" offering his elbow. "I''m Bruce." "My name is Alaine," said Carol Channing, as she stuck her arm through his elbow, and the two cheerfully walked off like they had been lovers for years.
