I choose life

There is so much to say

I can not hear your voice

Break your silence

Let us not whisper

There is no longer any choice

*

Can I be your voice

Share what’s in your heart

I speak, I shout, on your behalf

Lies and truths I shall impart

*

On your behalf

I set upon the world your

sad & unfair story

Leave your footprints on our souls

In future days I wish a wisp of glory

*

Those without a voice

Let us fight your war

We will not let you be forgotten

Even though we can’t hear you anymore

*

They prevail over you

they dominate

They take your choices

Give you cause to hate

*

Yet you don’t

*

We share your stories

In anticipation

Surround you with our love

Educate a nation

*

I make a wish

I could protect you

I will always be your voice

I pick you

I love you

I respect your choice

You choose life

I pray for you

#fowc

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The Book

January 12, excitedly the family moved into their new house. Yes it was old, perhaps little lacklustre, nothing that a coat of paint couldn’t fix, Jane mindfully making plans. It wasn’t perfect, who needed perfect, she thought. There needed to be changes to suit the family, in any case, it was going to be theirs.

Janes 2 sons and 2 dogs loved the rural setting with the large back yard, they were all so excited, It felt like home to ALL of them.

Jane knew they were going to be happy there.

With no spare cash for the renovations, a close family friend offered his help for free, together, they managed to get building materials at a very low cost.

One bedroom was converted into a bathroom and a wardrobe. Two bedrooms were left as they were, lastly, the dining room was completely renovated and turned into a third bedroom. This allowed the small three bedroom home to now have a built in wardrobe, two bathrooms and two toilets. Perfect. Nothing left to do in their little bit of paradise.

So they thought!

Kane yelled to his mum “ my homework isn’t here Mum, did you move it? No! Knowing that there was difference between how the boys look for items and how she does, they often laugh as Jane refers to this as ” a boys look & a Mums look” Jane shouts out “Can you look again” and have a Mums look” Jane chuckled to herself.

Between the two boys this was becoming a daily question. Where is this, where is that? Jane did begin to wonder “hmmm why are they always misplacing things” distracted? Too busy playing video games”? That’s just boys, Jane smiled as she thought affectionately about her 2 sons.

Two weeks later, after moving in, Jane started to get a niggling feeling that someone else was sharing her house. She kept her crazy thoughts to herself, though took action to remedy the situation the following day Jane purchased a smudge stick to cleanse her home of past negative energies, spirits or influences.

This is something she has done every time she moved into a new house.

Furthermore she relayed her kooky thoughts to a friend who is very knowledgeable about the spiritual world, deep down, wanting to hear ” don’t be silly, there is no such thing, you are imagining it”

Helen said “it sounds as if someone is stuck there, I can bring someone to clear your house” Jane nervously replied “okay, umm I’ll let you know if I really need it” hoping deep down the situation would sort itself out.

Reluctant to accept the offer, as that would be acknowledging that there really was something there. She left it be.

During the renovations, Cam, the family friend, was working in the bathroom. He was bent over the bench, when something brushed past him. Knowing Jane had two dogs, he presumed it was one of the dogs and never thought about it again. Then, it happened again, when he turned around there was no dogs.

Janes disturbing feelings continued. Always with a feeling that someone was behind her, watching her, when she was sitting watching TV at night, could not quite put her finger on it what it was, she just knew something did not feel quite right.

One night, having a chat to Cam, he said “I think you may have a ghost” Taking a sharp breath in, somewhat relieved but also shaky at the confirmation, replied “oh my god I have been thinking the same thing but thought you would think I was mad if I said it out loud”.

What she did know for certain, it was not here to hurt or scare her.

Further incidents continued to happen. Papers moved around, (the boys homework really was being moved) momentarily, she felt guilty, drawers would open, things would fall over, constant noises at night. It got to the stage where she was uncomfortable being in her own home by herself. She found herself staying elsewhere or asking friends to stay when her two sons were at their dad’s place.

Boston her big dog would sometimes just stop and stare unblinking at nothing. She knew he was staring at someone. Whoever it was didn’t scare him, he almost seemed intrigued.

One night, having been awoken about 2 am. She got up to go to the toilet, walking into the dark bathroom, where the first contact was made with Cam, something brushed against her leg.

Her automatic reaction was to brush it away. She kept walking towards the toilet, something gently stroked the length of her arm, again a quick swipe to brush away whatever had touched her. Her mind racing to justify what was happening. What’s that she thought? Not daring to speak. She sat down on the toilet, something gently stroke her left cheek. Could it be cobwebs yes, it must be cobwebs, there’s a spider in the bathroom. Arms flailing trying to brush the imagined cobwebs away, she jumped up, turning the light on, there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing, she stood frozen for a split second, trying to gather thoughts. She went back to bed, Jane didn’t sleep that night.

The next day she contacted Helen, “please send me your ladies phone number?”

It was a Friday afternoon, 3 pm, when Jane rang the lady, her name was Susan, Jane explained what had been happening. Susan usually has a fairly long waiting list to cleanse peoples houses, however after tuning in to Jane’s house, Susan said I’m coming tomorrow.

She arrived Saturday morning at 11 am.

On entering the house, Susan a lovely older woman , sweet grey-haired petite not what you expected. I am vision and a middle-aged woman with wild hair dressed in flowing layers smelling of patchouli. “Jane you have a really good positive vibe in this house”. “You have made it your home and it feels lovely.” “However you do have a visitor”, “she loves your home and your family”.

It was a lot to take in, Jane listened and could feel the spirits vibration.

A beautiful lady who had passed around the age of 50 years old, was the mischievous, lovely, extra guest. She loved the large windows at the back of the house, with the bucolic view.

“She loves watching your interaction with your family, she misses her own”.

The visitor loved to watch Jane in the bathroom doing her hair, putting her make up on, choosing what she would wear for the day.

She was mesmerized by Jane. The unpredictable guest did not want to leave.

Susan spoke silently to my guest and helped her to continue her journey over to the other side. Before she left the visit asked Susan to give Jane a gift.

She passed Susan a book written by Adele Basheer. Jane watched as Susan’s hands opened as if actually receiving a book. Adele Basheer writes inspirational quotes to live by. The book cover was green and it was about positivity and a yearning to live your life and realising your goals and dreams. Jane was deeply touched by the gesture and said thank you. Both Jane and Susan had a tear in their eye.

Susan told me I must go out and purchase that book.

Jane did look for the book, unfortunately she did not find it in any book shops. Sadly she forgot all about it. Jane never told a soul about that book.

Approximately 12 months prior, one of Jane’s little dogs had passed away. Jane was heartbroken. Helen her friend who recommended Susan, had bought her a gift. Jane never received or learned about this gift because Helen never gave it to her for one reason or another.

About 12 months after Susan cleared Janes house, with no further incidents, Jane went to have a reiki session with Helen. Entering the healing room, she sat in a chair as she waited for Helen. Facing a magnificent book shelf, a book caught her eye. She had so many beautiful books. However it was a particular green book that stood out.

Whether it was the colour, she wasn’t sure. Jane was about to walk over to have a look when Helen entered the room. Jane had a marvellous Reiki session that day, Afterwards, feeling relaxed they sat having a cup of chamomile tea in her kitchen, just chatting.

Talking at length about Buddhism, spirituality, energy, healing, spirits, the conversation led back 12 months ago to Jane’s house clearing. “Have you felt anything recently Jane? Do you feel it’s clear? Jane replied “there has been no more visitors or incidents Helen.” Which took Janes mind back to that day. She relived that moment, that day, with Helen, ending the conversation with “I never did get that book”.

Helen gasped loudly and ran from the kitchen. Returning with the green book Jane had been eyeing in the healing room.

Helen spoke excitedly “ I bought you this book when Meg died, I don’t even know why I didn’t give it to you at the time, perhaps timing wasn’t right. So here it is.

It was the book that Janes spirit asked her to read

*

*

*

Challenges incorporated

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/04/28/prompts-april-28/

FOWC

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/27/lacklustre/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/26/marvelous/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/yearning/

The conductor

The alleyway was a totally different view by daylight. The sinister shadows taking their vengeance by dark, intimidating innocent passers by, were gone. Now the shadows loomed larger than life, playfully waiting, to participate in a dance, to a tune that was yet to be played.

Not much action today, the watcher took a well earned coffee & smoko break. He picked up his packet of Marlboro, he knew smoking was not healthy for him, still as that thought passed through his mind, he lit yet another cigarette, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs, his mind turned to the sheer pleasure it brought him. Little did he know at this moment that smoking would be his demise one day.

While the watcher continued with his unhealthy habit, there was some potentially dodgy action about to take place in the alley. He says potentially because, it’s a gut feeling, and he knows his instinct is good.

An elderly couple hobbled the uneven lane, the old man stopped, Doris the crowd is here, they’re waiting.

We have to give them a performance like they’ve never experienced ever. Are you ready My Dearest?” Doris, a sweet hearted woman dressed in her brown wool coat, matching hat adorned with a white flower, her coat open enough to show her deep red dress covered in matching white flowers, her brown shiny sensible lace up shoes finished of this immaculately dressed woman. Oh how she loved dressing up.

Lost in a daydream for a moment, Joe and herself were a handsome couple. Impeccably dressed, charming and talented. They met at the opera 58 years ago. Doris was 19 and Joseph was 22. He was a conductor and she played violin. Together they were impeccably dazzling and brilliant.

Yes darling Joe, we must delight this wonderful crowd. This spot was as good as any, Doris thought to herself. There was a scattered few walking the lane, barely glancing at the odd old couple. Joe took his hat off his head and placed it on the ground, top down, picking up his stick, Doris’s face softened as she looked at him with love as he lifted his stick high into the air.

With a swiftness and agility belying his advanced years, he starts waving it all around. Joe stop, wait, please Doris says panicking.

At that very moment the watcher returned his watchful eye to observe the afternoons alley scene. The watchers eyes popped. What the? No! I cannot leave my spot for a minute he thought to him self.

“Leave her alone “shouted the angry watcher. He watched. The view from his room to the alleyway, was of an old man, he knew he was an old man because he was slightly rounded at the shoulders and knees slightly bent. Along with the graying receding hair line.

He thought himself a reliable source at assessing characters. I should’ve been a detective he marveled at this idea.

Oh what are you doing ? The streets were unsafe and noisy. People chatting without a care, cars honking, music playing. Everyone oblivious to what is going on before there very eyes.

Can they not see this? It appeared to him that this old codger was hitting a woman with his walking stick. He was waving that stick all around. The woman seemed small, probably frail, her small body hidden by the width of the man’s body, with his arms flying around, it made it hard for the watcher to get a good vision of the little old lady.

She seem to be ducking and weaving avoiding the strikes from the walking stick. Why isn’t anyone helping her. That poor dear. People were walking past and throwing things at them, they appeared to be laughing and smiling. But not helping the woman. Leave her alone you cantankerous old bully he shouted heatedly.

If anyone heard him, no one appeared to be making any movement or even acknowledged his shouts.

The watcher was contemplating what he should do next, he fiddled with his phone deciding whether to call the police or not. He didn’t want to exaggerate the situation. Like he did last time. OK OK so he misjudged a character once.

000 he tapped on his iPhone. Police.. how can I help? There is an old man attacking a little old lady with a walking stick in the lane way across the road from my apartment. Hurry, please hurry. People are walking past, no one is helping. What is wrong with people? Hurry please I’m scared he’s going to kill her.

“Mr Scout” the voice on the other end of the line spoke. “Is that you again? The last time this happened you made an error in judgement, how can you be sure this time?”

“I trust my own eyes sir” and it’s what they are seeing right this instance, violence, rampant brutal violence, trust me!

The roar of the sirens, red and blue lights flashing, stopping in the alleyway. The watcher is watching, he always watches, he watches everything.

The police delighting in the beautiful music,slowly moving toward the man from behind, they appeared to approach tenderly. Joe, oblivious to his surroundings is completely unaware of their advances. The man reaches his stick high above and hears, good afternoon Joe says the kind a police man.

Joe panics, and crouches down as if protectiing himself, fearful, confused, why is this policeman here Doris? Joe, this is Detective Bongars. He looks blankly.

Standing there is petite, sweet old Doris, holding a violin, she had been playing the most beautiful music. With a tear in her eye she’s looks forlornly at Joe. “Please play just a little more Doris” pleaded the detective. Well you just stop scaring my husband” she berates him with a soft smile.

The watcher can see her, scorning the officer, what is she holding? She looks ok. Huh? She’s playing the , umm violin, beautifully. Like magic. He had heard the sweet tunes earlier, but did stop to listen to the music.

The two officers and Doris are talking. They seem fond of her, they cuddle her delicately, then shake Joes hand, Who consequently is oblivious and they turn and walk away.

They stare up at the first floor apartment. Glaring, shaking there heads. Where are they going now? Are they heading towards my building?

Doris relieves her memory again of how her and Joe met.

It was love at first tune. Such sweet memories. They have lived a wonderful life, successful, happy, five beautiful children She was always pinching herself thinking how did I get so lucky. Two years ago Joe was diagnosed with dementia. He has never forgotten his Doris. Doris the beautiful 19-year-old he met all those years ago. Sadly that is where his memory has remained.

It was not a Walkingstick he was waving around, when he placed his hat on the ground he picked up his conductors baton, he was not trying to hit his wife, he was conducting the finest orchestra in Australia. In his eyes every day he heads off to work at some hall, where he conducts his Orchestra to thousands of people. But he only ever has eyes for Doris. The love of his life

Joe would never hurt Doris. Every day the elderly couple walk the streets, in Joes mind, he finds his crowd in some grand hall, as always the only one he has the eyes on is Doris.

People were throwing things at the couple they were throwing money, Joe and Doris made them happy, they made everybody happy, the crowd would cheer, people would clap, everyone threw money into his hat. The elderly were the unintentional buskers. Everyone around the streets of Melbourne knew Joe and Doris. Everyone except one person. The watcher

Knock knock. The watcher stayed very still.

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Challenges incorporated. Thank you to all

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/04/11/story-starter-challenge-april-11/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/04/10/story-starter-challenge-april-10/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/04/10/opposites-attract-challenge-april-10/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/04/11/elemental-writing-challenge-april-11/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/10/vengence/

https://fivedotoh.com/2019/04/09/fowc-with-fandango-cantankerous/

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/04/09/your-daily-word-prompt-brilliant-april-9-2019/

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/04/12/your-daily-word-prompt-participate-april-12-2019/

Anger, light, love – she is the source.

Finding your yourself ❤️

.

.

She stands behind

she is your ego

As if a dragon, she breathes fire

Swinging her fists

short sharp breaths

she is defiant

Prepared to fight

Prepared to defend

Her furrowed brow

In this instant

stay out of her way

she is righteous

She is unrighteous

she is your anger

she is your darkness

she is fury

.

.

She stops

.

.

She takes a moment

trying to find the softness in her

her tender heart

she takes a breath

her thoughts whisper I need you

she comes when she asks

she will stand with you in a storm

She will shelter you

surround you with her invisible cloak

she will capture your furious pain

She will protect you from wrong

Unethical

the evil sent by others

she makes you stronger to fight them

she will give you strength to fight for them

She gives you the strength to release what is not for you

she will protect you

and show you how to protect them

against themselves

she sheathes them, and you, in unconditional love

.

.

She is the receiver from above

A source of love and light

She shines bright

she is your essence

she is significant

to you

she is your heart

.

.

She is pure love

.

We the jury, find the defendant compassionate, empathetic, kind and loving with a beautiful heart and soul.

.

“When you let go of the belief that you should or need to know who you are, what happens to confusion? Suddenly it is gone. When you fully accept that you don’t know, you actually enter a state of peace and clarity that is closer to who you truly are than thought could ever be. Defining yourself through thought is limiting yourself.”

― Eckhart Tolle

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https://fivedotoh.com/2019/03/27/fowc-with-fandango-release/

https://cyranny.com/2019/03/30/instant-word-of-the-day-challenge/

htphoto-prompt-bright-writephoto/tps://scvincent.com/2019/03/28/thursday-

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/03/31/your-daily-word-prompt-dragon-march-31-2019/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/03/30/story-starter-challenge-28/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/03/30/opposites-attract-challenge-27/

The Elm Tree

Early morning, the sun rising over the clouds, the elderly man is out walking his dog. An orchestra of sounds fill the air. Birds tweeting simultaneously as if greeting each other with welcome to a new day. A light breeze whishes as the stones crunch under each step as he ambles along the long gravel road.

He pauses, unsure why, he gazes to his left.

He sees a trampled trail, curious, he changes direction towards the flattened trail amongst the high grass. His dog barks, “what’s up fella?” Bo his best mate the coolie dog appeared unsettled. Sssshhh boy, “it’s ok” he says as he ruffles Bo’s neck.

Ahead the old man notices a familiar Elm Tree. Big, beautiful, looking somewhat sad. Why was it familiar? He wasn’t sure!

The man was drawn to that Elm Tree. They pause for a moment. Bo whimpers. The old man sits down beside him. Bo seems preoccupied staring off in the near distance.

The old looks to where his best mate was gazing forlornly.

Up to his feet again, still, uneasy, under his magnificent Elm tree, something captured his interest.

A deep hole. He knew deep down what was in the hole. He was hesitant to advance.

He continued to stand under his Elm tree pondering what to do next.

Bo escaped the old mans clutches, lurching towards the hole, he dropped heavily and let out and almighty heart rendering howl.

The old man shambles towards old Bo and the hole. He lays down beside his old mate and cuddles him. Sniffing in his odor as if he hadn’t seen him for a while.

Bo seemed to quiet, as if getting comfort out of the old man’s affection. The old man looks into Bo’s sad face, both sensing the deep mutual love between them, the old man turns his head slowly and looks down into the hole. He sees a corpse. Taken aback, shocked, the old man recognizes the corpse immediately. Shaken, aghast, his mouth opened, he wanted to scream. Silence.

He was staring at his own mangled body, he stared at his own decaying corpse in disbelief.

He had been murdered In a bungled robbery a week ago. The murderers took his body to the old Elm tree, dug a hole and put the old man’s broken body inside. Old Bo, the beloved coolie was so distraught, he followed those wretched murderers, he growled, bared his teeth and threatened, so fiercely and savagely the murderers never bothered to cover the old mans body.

Every morning as the sun rises Ol Bo heads to the Elm Tree where he mourned his best mate until sunset.

Old Bo died of heart break one month to the day after the old man died. He lays in the same hole under the big Elm Tree.

Today the ghost of the old man and his coolie are seen at sunrise walking to the Elm Tree and every evening at sunset they are seen walking back to the old man’s farm.

Best mates

#fowc

http://fivedotoh.com/2019/03/25/fowc-with-fandango-corpse/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/03/23/it-all-started-with-a-diamond-ring/

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Today my heart swelled with pride

Delacombe Cricket Club, the home teams players congregated in their fielding positions for the A graders cricket Final.

As the mum of one of away teams players, I set my chair up on the sidelines under a large gum tree that provided a cool shady world with light filtering through the tree tops helping to shut out the direct sunlight. It was a warm 33 Celsius at the point. A light breeze, a bystanders saving grace in conjunction with the tree top umbrella.

The temperature continued to soar that day and reached its peak at 43.

My son Kade and number 2 batter Elliot walk confidently back onto the ground for day 2 of the club level cricket final. My son opened the batting yesterday to finish the last hour or so of the day to finish 0/32. Delacombe ended their day with a score of 10/203.

I check the score board at drink break to read 1 for 60. The boys soothe themselves quickly from the scorching heat with ice water. Wiping down their faces and downing gulps of chilled refreshments to tide them over until tea.

Barely back on ground. Hoorah the fielders and supporters cheered as another critical wicket fell before their tea break this time for an lbw wicket. Elliot leaves the ground clearly disappointed and the score show 2/75

The challenge now is to get to the tea break with just 2 wickets down .

Challenge unaccomplished. The crowd and fielders roar again, then again, the boys appearing to be in trouble as their sixth wicket fell.

The distress clear on the faces as each player walks from the ground. My son the one common face within the field of Delacombe players. There were sneers and wise cracks thrown at him. They were trying to rattle him, his focus unwavering. I was proud, to say the least.

Unfortunately they lost their seventh wicket in the last open before tea. 7/85 the score board reported, the game now appears to be beyond them.

However stranger things have happened in a game of cricket

So we crossed our fingers as we watch the second innings of the cricket unfold.

The game changed dramatically as Kade and Strodes attacked the bowling and upped the run rate. An unlikely victory now seems a possibility.

Their aggressive batting forced Delacombe the home team to spread their field thus allowing more opportunities for both batsmen who now have their tails up.

Those two bat through and win an unlikely grand final for Mount Martha. 7/204. You bloody beauty.

The crowd roared and a proud mother roared even louder. Delirious with happiness, tears roll down her face.

The great sportsmanship of both teams was shown on the day when the winners congratulated the home team on a well played match and Delacombe did like wise.

Kade humbly walks over to see me, his friends and the assemblage of club spectators, they cheer as he nears. “Well played”, “congratulations” “woops and cheers” vibrated the air, claps the on the backs. “Mate, great comeback”.

My heart swelled with pride.

The shimmer of light radiated over the park like a spotlight caused by the sun shining on the windows of the cars, but anyway I looked at it the sun shone on my boy. He was in the spotlight. He was my hero always and everybody else’s on that day.

Im sure it was just a Dream

Mysterious

The pounding of rain on the windscreen made it difficult to concentrate. Eyes bleary from navigating the road in the the visually poor conditions. The two-hour drive from the airport had turned into 5 1/2 hours. There had been no sign posts or if there had she couldn’t see them. Her ears straining to hear Siri give her directions.

Ella had been invited to her Uncle’s country home in Arcane. He was celebrating his 80th birthday. All the family were coming. Her mind reflecting on conversations with her deceased parents, the only family she heard about, was odd Uncle Slav who lived in Arcane. So odd they never went to visit him.

She dismissed it with the thought that they must be from the other side of the family. Being she was the only one left, no brothers or sisters, her parents were tragically killed in an car accident two years ago, (or so Ella thought), hence she was quite excited about the thought of having some family.

A brief halt from the pelting of the rain, a moment of reprieve, she hears Siri say “you have reached your destination.”. The destination it is on your right. Aha someone up there is looking after me she thought. Ella silently said thank you

She slowed the car to a halt. Squinting as looked out of the rain stained car window, it was dark. She focused on the empty space between her car and the dark house in front of her. She could see flickers of light through the windows. Shadows passed over her eyes. What was that? she thought silently or did she speak it out loud. She open the car door, grabbed her umbrella from the back seat. Did she grab it to shield herself from the rain or as a potential weapon if needed, she looked left and right before stepping out.

Walking the dark path towards the front door, she knocked softly. She could see or hear nothing, just flickering off the light from what appeared to be candles in the windows. She knocked harder. She jumped when she heard

“Who is it?” He spoke in a hoarse whisperer his voice filled with a dark edge.

Chills ran down her spine. Was it a cold or was it fear. She shivered. It is me Uncle Slav, Ella from Seraph.

The door opened. Standing in front of her, A man, he must’ve been six-foot five. Tall with long limbs, so lean, she could barely make out its features, the flicker of light from the candles again helping her showed pale skin, his dark eyes radiating a fierce, uncompromising intelligence. What was behind those mysterious eyes. Again, she shuddered.

Welcome child, welcome to my home. For one brief second I am safe. My home is your home now and with that he swept her into embrace his eyes turning a deep red, long fangs. Thoughts that raced through her mind in that split-second. “Vampires, are they real, I’m going to die, why did I come here, I didn’t say goodbye to my friends, who will look after my dog, a slideshow commenced showing photos of her as a child, growing up, with her mum and dad, all her childhood pets, friends, one after another photos flicked through her mind then, her will asked will see my mum and dad. She felt a sting, his fangs piercing into her neck, the pain is so intense, yet somehow so pleasurable as well. What is happening? what is going on?, she felt herself the limp in his arms, she looked into those red eyes once more, then the sweet voice of mother, oh darling we see you met uncle slav. We are so sorry, we love you and then nothing.

Ella woke the next morning, in her car funnily enough she did not feel the cold, even though there was frost all around her, snow capped mountains in front of her. So close it felt like if she reached out she could touch them. Everything around her seemed brighter, more vibrant, amplified. On her windscreen was the most beautiful butterfly she had ever seen, mesmerised, she got out the car, walked slowly so not scare the butterfly away, she stared at the butterfly. The butterfly seemed to make eye contact. It stared back, as if it knew her, it stared with It’s deep red eyes.

Her slim fingers slowly reaching up to gently touch the right side of her neck, as she lowers her hand, Ella looks at her fingers, drops of blood. She hears a voice deep inside, that horse whisper that was filled with the dark edge“ you are now immortal my dear”

I’m sure it was all a dream