November is an interesting month for me.
My birthday is the fifth, so I turn twenty-seven today — or I would if I were still alive.
(Before you ask, yes…my dad taught me the “Remember, Remember, the Fifth of November” rhyme.)
Speaking of being alive, the concept of “life” has become fluid for me. I was told vampires simulate life (breath and heartbeat) so we can better lure in our victims, but I also consider the source (Ian was an ass). Although I can always feel it coming, I’m still not used to the sudden lurch of my heart stopping at sunrise.
November was also the month I was “turned,” a word that sounds better to me than “murdered.” I get that now; I’m still here even though I’m physically different. Another immortal once told me I was lucky in one respect: being turned at so early an age may have cheated me of a full life, but it afforded me the luxury of pretending to be alive as my actual self a while longer.
Continue reading ““A Fifth of November” – Vampire Verisimilitude”
For those celebrating, I’ve heard all kinds of stories about you little gremlins and your so-called harmless pranking. One of you titled yourselves “The Goblins of the Season.” Moving furniture off of porches, throwing rotten tomatoes or fruit, eggs and toilet paper. Little hellions all! Parents ignored this as long as it was kept to certain level; there were lines you knew not to cross.








She is NOT the last.