He needed her. Ever since he first saw her when she graced his little shop with her daughter a month ago. Her image was seared into his mind. Even now, as he waited outside her daughter’s window, hiding in the shadow of the tree, he could only see her.

She was beautiful in a haunting sort of way. For a little girl, she held herself with a certain air, as if she were older than she actually was. He ignored the thought and continued to watch her, want filling his body and spreading out from his gut. He couldn’t wait anymore.

He slowly made his way to the back of the house, careful not to step on any fallen twigs. He looked up at the mother’s room, the light out, and smiled. He walked towards the back door, his hand automatically reaching up onto the door pane and feeling around for the spare key that the  mother kept there for emergencies. He had been watching her for weeks.

He turned the key and gently pushed the door open, a feral smile gracing his features. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. He listened to the stillness of the house, his heart racing in his chest as he realized just how close he was to his little jewel.

He navigated his way upstairs, drawn by some invisible string to the little girl’s room. He paused outside a door with a “Ula’s Room” sign hanging from it. He smiled once more, slowly turning the doorknob, and pushing the door open.

And there she was.

She was lying on emerald green sheets, curled up on her side, facing the window that he had been so focused on just minutes ago. He watched her; the way her red hair had settled in a halo around her her, the way she curled her hands up close to her chest, and the way her pale skin seem to glow under the moonlight.

He walked into her bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He set his pack down and quickly sat on top of the little girl, covering her mouth with his palm. She thrashed under him, her eyes opening to reveal opulent pools of crystal blue. She grabbed at his hand with feeble hands, as he stared at her, happiness clouding his better judgment. He didn’t notice when her grip on his arm tightened. He did notice when her eyes changed colour.

Before he could react, the little girl threw him from her, his body slamming hard against her bedroom wall.

“What the fuck?” he sputtered out, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He stared at the seemingly weak little girl, now standing in front of him, her eyes no longer the stunning blue that caught him, but a deep maroon that terrified him to his core.

He backed up against the wall, wanting to be away from the girl. She smiled at his attempts, her teeth pointed and sharp. She stepped closer to him, giggling as he tried in vain to escape her. She didn’t even give him time to scream before jumping on him, her little hands clawing at him.


“Ula, you’ve made a mess,” Ula looked up from what was left of the man, licking blood from her fingers and putting a sliver of meat in her mouth, “Blood is difficult to get out. How many times have I told you? Kitchen is the best place.”

“I’m sorry mommy.” Ula took on last glance at what was left of the man and walked towards her mother, “He came into my room. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Fine,” she hugged the little girl to her, “Let’s clean this up and get back to bed. You can sleep with me tonight.”

“Okay.” Ula replied looking up at her mother and then at the pile of bloody clothes and meaty pieces.

*Note: Ula is Irish for wealthy which is what I think of when I think of diamond. Ula and her mother are supposed to be some sort of Irish faery creature but I couldn’t remember what they were ><



She looked out her window and saw what she wanted; a white blanket covering every surface, the frost on her window curling and twisting in beautiful pictures as she stared out at the world. She pushed back from her window and ran to her wardrobe, throwing its doors open with a flourish, her hands going in and out, clothes reaching and leaving her hands before landing on the bed behind her.

She turned to her bed and eagerly undressed, excited to put on the first outfit of the winter. She ran to the pile on her bed, closed her eyes, and randomly picked out a jacket, a top, a dress, and a sweater. She placed them at the head of her bed without looking before turning to the drawers on the side of her bed and randomly picking a pair of thick winter tights. Opening her eyes, she looked at her outfit for the day; a pale pink peter pan collar blouse, a mint green long sleeve button up sweater with bows on the sleeves, a thick black wool jumper dress, and her favourite wool water-proofed black and white plaid coat. She glanced at the tights in her hand, the bright pop of magenta a happy surprise to her. She dressed herself quickly, throwing her jacket on and heading downstairs to get her boots.

As she pulled her boots on, she glanced out her front door, the glass top showing her the signs of snow falling. She jumped up and grabbed her brown leather backpack from a table by the front door and was out the door, careful not to wake her housemates up, she slowly closed the door, a soft click letting her know that she was now free to run through the snow.

She turned around, her coat twirling around her in a halo of grey, her black hair a hazy cloud around her head. She stepped off the porch and onto the white playground. She felt it then, the first snowflake touch her nose. It’s soft chill settled and melted as she smiled.

This was her favourite time of the year.


The young boy looked out his window at her. She was everything he wanted. Her luminescent pale skin, her rosy pink lips, her dark hair, and her eyes. Oh he loved her eyes. He loved how they shine and seemed to change from green to brown to grey in a matter of seconds. It was almost like he knew her.

No, he did know her.

She was always there at his window, just waiting for him to watch her. He tore his gaze away from her pale face and walked to his bedroom door. He tried the handle again. It was still locked. He had been locked in there for weeks, his mother and father bringing him nothing but take-out and fast food. He was grateful that they had at least thought to renovate his bedroom before and add on a bathroom. 

His brow knit in frustration as he kicked at the door, Mom! Dad! Please! Let me out! His calls went unanswered. He kicked at the door a final time, before turning his back and slumping against it. He put his head in his hands, unsure of what he had done to deserve this. He looked up and out his window. He smiled. He could still see her somewhat, although, her curtain had fallen in view.

He made up his mind. 

He got up and walked to his window, grabbing his jacket. He braced himself, before jumping out the window and landing painfully on his stomach on a tree branch. He pulled himself up and climbed down the tree, careful not to make any sounds.

He looked up at her window, she was there looking at him now. He smiled and she smiled back, beckoning him over. He had her now. He knew he did. 

He walked over and began to climb the tree outside of her window, his pulse racing with the anticipation of having her at last. 

Hey you. she spoke softly, her eyes lighting up as he came into her room. He smiled and walked over to her, his hands lightly touching her wrists, her pulse racing almost as quickly as his. 

She opened her mouth to say something before he covered her mouth with his hand and gripped her throat tightly with the other. He pushed her down onto her purple bed and squeezed harder, she was struggling too much for his liking. He didn’t want to bruise her more than he had to. Her thin hands clawed desperately at his, trying to pull his hands off of her. He smiled down at her Ssssh. It’s almost over. He waited a few more minutes, almost bored, for her to stop. And soon, she went limp, the life completely gone from her petite body.

He got up and went to her desk, opening drawers and rustling around before finding an incredibly sharp pair of scissors. He broke them, one sharp blade in each hand before turning around and walking back to the bed.

I have you now.


There were thousands of them, waiting to be looked at, picked, chosen, touched. She couldn’t decide which one she wanted, they were all so enticing and beautiful. Her heart beat against her rib cage with excitement and anticipation. Even now, looking at all of them, she couldn’t decide. 

She looked at the older ones first. She adored them at first glance and upon closer inspection, she found that she didn’t need to look at any of the other groups. She would pick from this group and this group only.

Each light feathery touch sent small ripples of movement through each one as she walked through, examining each of them with a careful eye and a sweet touch. 

She stopped in front of one particular one. This was a classic dress. Oh yes. It was the colour of the midnight sky, a careful dazzling of diamonds around the front collar, a plunging v-shape on the back, all of which fanned out at the waist into waves of gorgeous soft silk and tulle. She touched it gently at first, her hands careful and curious. It felt perfect and light as she held a bit of it in her hand.

This was the dress.


She thought she must have been insane to believe that he loved her. How could he love her? She was insufferable, ugly, rude, sarcastic, and annoying. No one could love her but her parents and even then that was a huge gamble. 

She thought he loved her, all of her and her crazy. She was wrong. He did not love her. He loved the idea of her that he had in his mind. When she couldn’t fulfill that idea he had, he threw her away. She knew it would happen, so she had tried desperately to fit into the idea of her that he had. She tried so hard but she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t do it anymore.

He broke her.

She had been so sure that no one would love her and then he came along and lifted her heart from the depths of her body. Then he suddenly ripped her heart from her chest and took it, never to give it back again. She had cried for days, everyone telling her that she would find another, that it would be better.

None of that helped. Sure, it would get better, but that’s in the future. She was here in the present and right now, she wanted it to stop. So she did just that. She wrapped her crazy and her secrets up inside of her and covered herself in armour so that she would never again be broken. 

She had been mad to believe he loved her. Now he’s going mad knowing that she’s fine.


She climbed to the top of the slide and sat down, arranging her books, bag, and phone around her on the small surface. She came here every once and a while to get away from her friends, her family, and her worries. She only brought her phone for emergencies, she generally ignored any calls and texts she received during this time. 

She took a deep breath of the twilight air. She loved how despite the warmth of the day, it always became slightly cooler as the day came to a close. 

She loved to sit here and watch the sun sink into the ground. There was something relaxing about the silence of the oncoming night. It let her know that whatever troubles she had during the day, that the night would come and wash them away, just for a little while, that she had some breathing time before she would have to tackle them again. 

Tremble (Late post April 27th, 2013)

Sometimes when reality got to be too much for her, she’d close her eyes to the shaking world, to the terrifying truth of her responsibilities. She’d take a few deep breaths and imagine that she was a little girl again, that her mom and dad were there to help her, that she wasn’t alone in the world. 

When she felt that the world stopped shaking, stop trembling, she’d open her eyes. Reality wasn’t as colourful or as pleasant as her imagination and that hurt her. It served to remind her that she WAS alone and that her mom and dad weren’t there to help her. Then she’d throw herself into her schoolwork and into her part-time jobs to forget all of that. 

It wasn’t until late at night in bed, just before she fell asleep that she remembered these things. She was alone in this world and nothing would change that.


She looked at the new clothes in her closet. She smiled at all the bright colours, fantastical prints, and frilly fabrics. Gone were the neutral colours, pants, and hoodies. She looked down at the shoes she had acquired during the summer. No more ratty flip flops and dirty trainers. Now there was colour not just at the top of her closet, but at the bottom.

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror at the coral lace dress and pastel green tights she wore. The old her would never have worn something so delicate looking but the new her loved this. She loved the whimsy of colourful dresses and tights. She loved feeling like a carefully decorated dessert from head to toe.

Something had changed her during the summer. She couldn’t explain it, but she slowly found herself wearing makeup, dainty flats, and lacy dresses. She still wore pants and trainers and flip flops, she just wore them differently. For example, instead of plain dark jeans everywhere, she had one pair of dark jeans while her four other pairs were patterned and coloured. Her trainers and slippers were no longer dirty and tatty.

This was a new her and she loved it. She loved being comfortable enough to wear dresses and to wear makeup. People always said that more confident women wore no makeup, but she felt just as confident and beautiful wearing makeup.

Getting over her little inner monologue, she walked up to her closet and began to pick an outfit out that would show off her legs.

Summer (Late post April 25th, 2013)

She pulled at her blouse, the fabric sticking to her skin. She grimaced and sat up from the couch and pulled off the sweaty fabric, thankful that no one was home to see her in her bra and short shorts. She walked over to the AC panel and switched it on, not caring that her parents wouldn’t be very happy with her for wasting money on staying cool. 

The girl smiled when she felt the cold gust of air hit the top of her head from the vents. She sat back down on the couch and lounged, waiting for her sticky, slick skin to dry from the cold. She hated summer and everything that it is. 

It was always too hot and too humid. At least during the winter, if she got too cold, she only had to layer up on her clothes. On top of that, autumn had all the best cuddling weather. During the summer, if it got too hot, you had to shed clothes and who’d want to cuddle in the heat? No one. Everyone’s skin gets too sweaty and sticky and no one wants to touch eachother because they’d be sticking to eachother. Autumn was definitely better.

She frowned at the thought of how much longer she’d have to suffer this California heat. She glanced out at the empty pool, angry that her parents were too careless and forgot to have the pool filled for the summer. She’d have to wait until next month for them to be  back and for the pool to finally be filled.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch, the cool air beckoning her to sleep.

She sighed and hoped that when she woke up, it’d be cold and dreary instead of bright and hot. 


She looked at each of the pictures, her heart racing as she came to a conclusion: This man was immortal. 

The more she researched and dug up about him, the more it became apparent that he was no mere man. The oldest recorded mention of him that she found was an old portrait from the early fifteenth century. He couldn’t be a vampire…could he? she thought as she shuffled the papers and and rearranged them by time. He’s not a vampire, at least not the traditional kind… she leaned back in her chair and took her glasses off, rubbing her temples, a headache on the brink of starting. 

What is he?

She had known him since they were in college and then later in university. She had never looked at him and thought that he hadn’t aged. She always assumed he just had amazing genes. She grabbed one of the papers from a pile of papers she had yet to read and perused it, her eyes widening as she read it. According to this, if it was all true, his parents disappeared when he was just a boy. Since then, he had been known to live with just his servants in a big house back in Romania. 

“What are you Brandon.” she mumbled to herself as she continued to read. He was twenty-seven years old, a young single bachelor when he supposedly died. It said that no body was found and that there had been rumors surrounding his parent’s disappearance. She glanced at one of the pictures she had found, in it he was twenty six, a year before he “died”.

She had to admit that he was handsome and charming. He looked every part the aristocrat, every part the gentleman. In the fading picture, she looked closer and standing off to the right was an inhumanly beautiful man. She couldn’t see him as well as Brandon, but she could see that he was beautiful. Something irked her about him however and pushed her to look more closely at all the pictures she had. 

Oh my god.

This man was in every picture and portrait of Brandon. He was always off to the side, slightly out of focus, dressed in the time’s style. Who was he? What does he have to do with Brandon’s immortality? she asked herself as she began to collect her papers and books. She had to see Brandon and talk to him.

She had to know. As she got up from the desk, she heard the silent room door close.

“Hello?” she called out, turning around to face the door, “Is anyone there?”

No one answered and she heard nothing. She turned away and continued to pack her things. She felt it then, the sense that someone was standing right behind her, breathing on her neck. She smelled it too. The smell of dying flowers and soil. It both calmed and alarmed her. She turned around quick, facing the beautiful man from the pictures.

“I see you’ve gotten quite close to our little secret.” she didn’t have time to scream before the man knocked her unconscious, her vision going black.