Adventure of a lifetime

The instructions said to simply add water. So she filled the small glass jar with water and waited. She checked on it every few hours the first two days, then as the days became weeks she checked every few days. As the weeks became months she checked every few weeks and as those months added up and became years she simply forgot about the small glass jar and went on with her life. She grew up and went to high school, then college. She got a job she liked but did not love. She meet a man she liked but did not love. She liked the life she had carved for herself but she did not love it. She never complained and was grateful for a good steady life. But she did dream of far flung adventures with dashing men and fabulous clothes and exotic places. She dreamed of becoming a spy and seeking out all the worlds secrets She dreamed of being a doctor who traverses the Rainforest looking for its secret cures. She dreamed of speaking every language known to man. She held her dreams close to her and told no one of her desires. Until that day when she was reminded of the instructions she had followed years ago, "Just add water." The police came to her door that day asking questions, then the FBI showed up asking questions, then the CIA and Scotland Yard showed up asking more questions. She did not have the answers to their questions. She was confused. They took her away and put her in a small room by herself. They came again and asked the questions again, but this time she knew the answers, she even could answer in several languages. She did not know how she could do this but she could and slowly as they kept asking questions and she kept answering, she began to not just like her life but love it. What transpired after all the questions is a mystery because she left through a side door and no one has seen her since. Her parents keep mementos of her around the house to remind them that she did exist. One of the mementos her mother cherishes is the small glass jar that had once been filled with water by a little girl formulating dreams of the future, on the instruction tag it said, fill with water and all your dreams will come true.

Saturday Hawthorn

I can see things that others can not. I have know this from the time of my birth. I know that sounds unusual but it is true and I am unusual. There are stories told around the dinner table and to children as they go to bed. Stories about things that only come out at night. Stories about things that will take your soul with no remorse. Stories told by grandmothers with thick eastern European accents. Stories about a certain kind of person who can see these things while others can not. These stories frighten me for I know they are true. I was born on a Saturday to parents who are descendants of a dhapir. You are not from eastern Europe? You have not heard of this dhapir? Not many, in our thoroughly modern country have. My great great grandfather was the son of a drakus, a topyak,or do you prefer the word vampire. You were not aware that the vampire could have children, it is true, they can live among humans and have children with human women. When these children are born they have special powers to see those things that the rest can not, they have none of the bad traits of the vampire, but all the power. It is these dhapir that hunt the things that only come out at night. I am a descendant of two dampir and I hunt those who stalk the night. I am doubly blessed you see as I was born on a Saturday. In my ancestoral homeland it is often said those born on a Saturday can also see what is invisible. As you can imagine it is very difficult to live a normal teen-age life with boys, dates, school and friends. It is hard to explain why I have a backpack full of stakes made from the hawthorn tree and sharpened to point. It is hard to explain that I know Mr. Ganger ,the chemistry teacher, is really a demon and that tonight I will hunt him down and kill him. It is hard to explain that my sandwich is made with lamb meat killed by wolves because it keeps me strong. Oh well, no one ever said being sixteen was easy. Ah, look at the time, if you will excuse me now, it is time to go kill Mr. Ganger.

Born Under a Bad Moon

My grandmother always said I was born under a bad moon. Every time she visited me she would give me some sort of trinket to ward off the evil she said surrounded me. It shamed me but I did not have the strength to tell her I liked the evil. I liked the feel of it as it wrapped itself around me and made my heart pound with desire for all the things I knew were bad. The boys, the clothes, the drinks. My face would burn with shame every time I saw her and she clicked her tongue at me, but I never once stopped enjoying that feeling of bad. I never once thought about the pain I brought my family. I only ever thought of myself and now years later the shame of what I did still causes my face to flame and my hands to tremble.

The Junk

Every time she visited the house she made a beeline for the attic. It was full of the most beautiful junk you had every seen. She would play for hour upon hour up in that attic. Dressing up in old gowns long forgotten by time, playing with toys that had seen better decades, imaging a world of the past that only she could see. As she grew up the junk became less interesting being replaced by boys and make-up and shoes, lots and lots of shoes. It was not until later when the junk was gone ,the house that held it sold and the grandmother who had kept it long dead, that she remembered those long afternoons and longed for the junks return. She became a keen flea market and garage sell shopper going from place to place slowly find items that reminded her of the junk in that attic and slowly but surely as each new piece was acquired she had more junk then even that old attic had held and as she watched her own grandchild head right for the attic she knew that one day all this junk would be sold off piece by piece as history would invariably repeat itself, for the she would die and the little girl in the attic would grow up and discard this junk for boys, make-up and probably even shoes because she was her grandmothers, granddaughter after all.

Who now? Where now? When now?

She stood on the sidewalk outside her apartment and watched herself leave through the front door and head down the street. She followed herself down the street heading for the train. As she followed she took a closer look at herself. She was wearing the charcoal grey suit with the turquoise blouse, she knew that inside the large black tote bag were the dark grey pumps she always wore with that suit. She saw herself slow down to grab a paper on the corner like she did every morning of every day. Once they reached the train station and she started to ascend to the platform she stopped and watched herself reach the top. There was still time to make it before the train left the station. She hesitated as she watched herself get on the train and that is when she knew. She was not getting on that train. She had other things to do. So she took one last look at herself, smiled and headed in the other direction. Free of herself for the first time in years.

The first Kiss

When I spent Halloween in Transylvania I knew that it was going to be amazing. I decided that my costume had to be that of a vampire's victim. It was brilliant, everyone at the party thought it was the best costume ever for this location, the heart of vampire lore. The next morning I awoke groggy and disoriented, shuffling to the bathroom, I blamed the drinking from the night before, although I did not think I had over indulged. My head was pounding and when I looked into the mirror I was shocked to see that I appeared so white that I looked dead. As I pulled back my hair to wash my face, I saw the vibrant red bite marks on my neck that I had drawn on with a lip pencil. They were not even smeared and looked even redder then the night before. I reached up to rub them off and was horrified to feel the indents. These were not drawn on, these were real, what the hell happened last night at that party. As realization slowly slipped into my mind I heard my boyfriend open the bathroom door. All thoughts fled from my mind except for one, how good his blood smelled and I hoped he would not mind if I had a little taste.