The second Melanie swung the door open and I saw the Mayor Redford my reaction surprised even me. I burst out laughing. Loud belly twisted laughter fill the space. Evan, strange and deadly creature he was, had a marvellous sense of humour. He’d strung the Mayor up like a pig on the spit. Wiggling no stop on his stomach like a worm, hands and feet tied together and bound to each other behind his back and he yelled into the make shift gag Evan had fashioned for him. It was truly a sight I would not forget for a long while. Nor was the rage that rushed forward the moment our eyes met. In less than a second I was inside the study -the same study us girls were never I allowed to even look into- staring down at the man who sentenced me to death. "Good evening, Mayor Redford." Smiling sweetly down at him I offer my greetings. "Have you missed me?" I asked gleefully watching terror fill he's swollen red face. Evan calmly tossed Melanie into an armchair before s

Home.Large, compared to the other houses around this part of town. A size my mother could be proud of, brag to her ‘friends’ about and lord over the other ladies at church.It smelled different and yet exactly the same. Or maybe it was me who was different, so much had changed in so little time. In all of three days I was assaulted, tried and executed, then reborn as an immortal creature of the night. A blood drinking vampire, who had taken the long way home, to kill my parents, who’d actively participated in my murder.Life sure did come full circle.The walk over helped cool my head, smother the once boiling rage to a bubbling simmer, I felt I could think clearly now.Decide, what I am to do with these people who brought me into this world without my consent, and thought their part in my creation was reason enough to take my life away. As if my very existence was merely a whim, a novelty they’d grown tired of clothing and feeding, parading around town to sell off to the highest bidd

"Oh dear Lord." Mary our housekeep grasped behind me. I'd heard her coming, summoned by my tears as she always had been. Mary was hard woman, a widow who'd lost her only child to the fever that had swept through town decades ago. Mary and I had a strange relationship, she was who I should have turned to for motherly advise or comfort considering my own mama was so lacking in that department. But Mary wore her pain in a phyiscal way, as if she cloaked herself in her grief years ago and now simply did not know how to live without carrying her shroud of pain everywhere she went. I tried to get close her, to know her and love her but she would let me and I, I was tried of trying to love mothers who would not and in Mary's case could not love me back. Turning my head towards her, I realised I was not mad at her, like I was at everyone else. She was not there, she did come to cheer for my death nor did she come to speak for my character either, though that would have done little good as it