Write Her Story
by Terri DelCampo
And there she sits on the edge of a crypt, jagged pieces of her sister and mother at her feet, after I have worked my artistry upon them. Her doom (my triumph!) approaches: Police – and is that an actual slayer?
Only Mason appreciated my little masterpieces – shadowboxes, he dubbed them.
Paintings? Sculptures? Hah! Far too pedestrian for the likes of me.
Mason sets my scene – holds her in his morbid embrace and coaxes her blood into his gut, vampire banality; correct? But he doesn’t kill her. Just…almost. And then she is mine.
Mason lures a girl.
I lure her family – I give the desperate hope. They scramble to meet me – offering themselves for the girl – no strings – no cops – no FBI. How can I refuse?
Just after Mason’s initial bite brings the girl to the…
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