Welcome

Welcome to this ‘writing’ site, which is filled with short stories, poems and book reviews. I’d love to hear your views so please add your comments.

The new book of short stories, ‘The Mermaid’ , is now out! You can buy a copy from  this website using paypal – link on the right (£6.00 – P+P free).  It’s also available from Lulu – link below. Those who’ve read it so far, say it’s the best one yet. It would be great as a stocking filler.

My other two books of short stories can be downloaded for free from the Lulu site (link below). The first book, ‘Missing and other short stories’ was published to raise money for WaterAid. The second book is ‘Pebble on a Beach’. Both are available here,  at iBooks (£1.99 from the iTunes Store) and Amazon 

I’ve just finished an Open University creative writing course A363 and will soon be back working on my novel, ‘The Visualiser’. The poetry book is also an ongoing project and short stories keep bubbling up and popping out.

I hope you enjoy the writing here, some of which is included in my books. If you subscribe to this site you’ll get notifications of new posts. Do let me know your site if you’re a writer. I’d be happy to add a link. I also have a poetry blog. Check it out here.

If anyone is up for doing a book review for my books. That would be really great.

Check out Lulu

Just signed up for a new OU course

AA100 The Arts Past and Present
The content of this course looks really interesting and includes studying about short stories from different cultures, poetry, art and music. It starts in October and is a first level university course. It has some good reviews from students who’ve already done it, so I thought I’d give it a go.
The upside is that it’s a good excuse for buying more books (not that I ever need an excuse).
The downside is that there are heaps of assignments, so I hope they’re not too difficult.
Anyway it’s something to look forward to.

What Tomorrow Brings

Elsie curbed her heartbreak. She had two children to feed and was being evicted at the end of the week. The cottage came with her husband’s job and the landlord was claiming he needed it for the new gardener. With a feeling of dread she started packing their few possessions into the wooden crates. The packing wouldn’t take long. She had sold all her husband’s possessions including his beloved mahogany piano. It had been the only decent piece of furniture they possessed.

The baby was crying to be fed, but she had very little milk. She toasted some bread on the fire with a long handled fork and spread it with butter. Tommy, her three-year-old, ate it without complaint. Baby Martha chewed slowly on bread soaked in cow’s milk. It stopped her sobbing. Elsie toasted the crust and ate it without tasting it.

Her brother, James, was taking them in. She knew he didn’t want to. He lived his life immersed in books researching historic papers. How was she going to cope with looking after his house and stopping the children disturbing him she didn’t know! He would hate her living there, she would hate it and they would probably end up hating each other.

On Saturday morning she looked through the small window of her lovely cottage and saw Jacob, her neighbour, draw up with his cart. Soon he had loaded their few possessions and she was sitting with Martha on her lap and Tommy beside her. They had a coarse grey blanket tucked round them to keep the worst of the cold out.

Jacob whistled as they drove along the bumpy roads, as if the world was still a place for hope. As each mile passed she thought of her serious minded brother and his stern disapproving looks. She compared him to her warm-hearted husband, who had filled their lives with music and laughter. She thought of the beautiful countryside they had left behind as rows of houses were rising in front of them.

The door of the large house opened as they pulled up and James came out. They stood awkwardly looking at each other. Not having seen James for years she was gathering up the strength to thank him for letting them come to live with him.

Tommy however ran forwards and touched his uncle’s leg.

‘Father went to heaven. We living with you now!’ He smiled. James’s face crumpled. He stooped and lifted Tommy into his arms.

‘Your mother is coming to help me get my house tidy and I’m going to teach you to read.’ He looked at Elsie with a stiff smile.

Elsie tried to smile but tears welled up inside her. She longed for her cottage.

As they went up the stairs Elsie noticed the mess everywhere. Books and papers covered nearly every surface. She wanted to turn round and run out.

On they climbed to the third floor. Her brother pushed open the first door. There were two small beds and a large oak wardrobe in the room.

‘I thought this could be the children’s bedroom. Through here could be the nursery.’

Elsie peered round the second door. Sunlight was streaming through the window. The wooden floor had some brightly coloured rugs. In the corner was a rocking horse and under the window was a large wooden dolls house. Tommy’s face lit up as he ran into the room and explored everything. He found a box of bricks of all shapes and sizes and tipped them out.

‘And your room’s in here,’ said James.

Elsie realised what a massive effort her brother had made to make them comfortable. There was even a little dressing table with the mirror against the furthest wall. At that moment the blackness that had held her hostage, broke into tiny pieces. She smiled.

Jacob finished unloading the cart.

‘I’m off now Miss Elsie. I wish you happiness in your new position. Afternoon Sir,’ he said and left.

An hour later the little family were eating bread and cheese around the large kitchen table on the ground floor. Tommy was chattering away to James as if they were the best of friends Martha was content sucking a piece of cheese. Elsie waited for a pause in the stream of conversation.

‘Thank you James. I know we will be happy here. I’ve felt very lost these last few weeks. You’ve made us all so welcome.’

‘My dearest sister, I cannot imagine what you’ve been through, but I’ve rattled around in this big house for years. It will be most agreeable to have your company.’

That night as she lay in her bed with moonlight peeping through the gap in the curtains Elsie cried. She wept for the loss of her husband and the emptiness in her heart. She ached for his strong arms to comfort her and for the sound of music to fill her life again. Now that she was safe in her brother’s home she realised that his stern manner had probably been loneliness. At last it was time to grieve and for the process of healing to begin.

The Children of Kindness (Children’s Story)

Esmeralda, a wizened old lady, stamped her foot and screamed.
‘I don’t want to live here. ‘It’s too dark and dingy. Build me a new house.’

Happy and Willing, her daughter and son, heard her order and looked at each other in horror. Over the years she had set them many difficult tasks but this was the hardest.

‘What a lot of work that’ll be,’ said Happy.

‘It’ll take years,’ said Willing, ‘but we must try.’

The next day they set about learning how to build a house. Happy went to the council to get permission for the new house and Willing started drawing up first plans. At the end of the day they told their mother all about what they’d done.

‘I want my new house now, not next year!’ she shouted at them.

Happy and Willing went away feeling sad but soon Happy said, ‘Don’t worry Willing, mother will be over the moon when she sees the new house.’

At this Willing smiled.

‘I’ll put in some extra big windows so she’ll have lots of light,’ he said.

The next day they told Esmeralda all they had achieved.

‘I’ve managed to get a good architect who will draw up the detailed plans,’ said Happy.

‘And I found a builder who’ll do the building,’ said Willing.

‘You’re both so slow and incompetent,’ moaned Esmeralda. ‘Why was I burdened with such dim-witted children?’

And so it went on. Every day Happy and Willing worked hard to sort out their mother’s new house and every evening she said unkind words to them, but in spite of this they carried on until the new house was ready.

‘Come mother,’ said Happy. ‘Your new house is waiting for you. It’s beautiful and has wonderful bright windows.’

‘It’s about time,’ said Esmeralda ‘I’ve waited long enough.’

She stood up and shuffled along the path to her new house. Happy and Willing were very excited. The house looked beautiful. It was bright and spacious and they had decorated it with care. Anyone would be pleased to live there but when Esmeralda saw it she didn’t smile.

‘I’ve waited all this time for this. Is this the new wonder house that you’ve both wittered on about for the last year? Why it’s cold and horrid. I hate it. The windows are so big everyone will be able to look in.’ she said.

Happy looked across at her brother. ‘Was that a tear that glistened on his cheek?’ she thought.

‘Why mother, I know just the thing that will put things right. Just wait here,’ she said.
And with that she linked arms with Willing and guided him out of the beautiful building they had created together.

‘Where are we going? asked Willing.

‘Brother we’ve done everything we can to make our Mother comfortable and content, but nothing has worked. Now it’s time to let her keep her own company for a while.’ Happy pulled an envelope from her bag, ‘We are going to travel the world with these tickets and see all the places we’ve never seen.’

Willing looked at the tickets carefully and then as all the misery they had shouldered for so long, fell away; they both smiled and ran away into the distance.

So, dear reader, if someone does you a kindness, smile and say thank you. Don’t close your heart and allow misery to reign, for the children of kindness may disappear like a raindrop in the sunshine.

The Right Ring

Simon was sitting behind a stack of brown files heaped on his desk. He’d been working for Messrs Grimshaw and Grimshaw for the last five years. They didn’t appreciate him at all and he was given all the boring cases, such as conveyancing and wills, while the old boys creamed off the lucrative work. Idly he picked up Mr Toby Windsor’s file. It had been sitting on his desk for weeks. He blew hard and a layer of dust exploded into the air dancing about in the sunlight. ‘I might as well start processing this,’ he thought and started reading.

It was a particularly sad tale. Mr Windsor had been found at the remote cottage he rented, six months after his death. The bailiffs had been sent to the dilapidated cottage because he’d not answered rent demands. They’d walked in to find the remains of Mr Windsor. A search of the property had revealed a will leaving everything to his son, a Mr Michael Windsor, but as it turned out there was nothing much of value to leave. Toby Windsor hadn’t owned the property or furniture. His clothes were well past their best. It seemed he’d lived past his usefulness and had been left alone in his isolated cottage tomb.

Simon found he was cross that in today’s world so many old people were ignored and he fought against the wave of negative feelings that threatened to engulf him. He stood up and went over to the kettle. ‘Right, let’s be positive,’ he told himself firmly. Toby Windsor had one item that was worth passing on. It was a very fine, thick gold band, wedding ring. ‘So how would he trace the son?’ he thought. He took his coffee back to his desk and opened the laptop. A quick search revealed seventeen Michael Windsors. ‘Oh well,’ he thought, ‘this will take all afternoon.’

At ten past five, he was just dialling the last ‘Michael,’ when he realized he’d actually placed the ring on his finger. It looked good. It felt right. The weight was pleasing and he stroked the smooth surface. He loved the rich yellow glow that reflected the sunlight in his room. His finger hesitated from pressing the next number. ‘This probably wasn’t the right Michael either,’ he thought ‘and even if it was, he hadn’t visited his father in his hour of need. He doesn’t deserve the ring. And we won’t get paid for this work; we’re just doing a favour for the police.’ Simon slipped the gold plated ring his ex girlfriend had given him from his other hand and popped it into the small plastic bag stapled to Toby Windsor’s file. Then he wrote: Unable to trace Michael Windsor. He signed and dated the papers and left it to be archived with the other files he’d dealt with this week.

The Writing Task was to write for half an hour about a lawyer and a ring.

Two Can Play

How can a man of fifty-five still be excited by birthdays? The tension has been rising for about three weeks. What would he get for his birthday? Was it going to be a surprise or would I like some ideas?

Believe me I have ideas!

I smash the margarine onto the sugar with feeling and batter it until it loses its shape. I chuck in the flour and eggs and whiz them with my two month old birthday present; a high quality food churner or whatever it’s called. After thirty five years my other half has apparently not cottoned on to the fact that I hate cooking.

The pure creamy mixture is ready. Now, what flavour to impress him with, for have I mentioned, I mean to impress. A slurp of vanilla essence, a tinge of coffee granules, perhaps a bit of seasoning, I think, as I grind pepper and garlic into the large mixing bowl. I add three spoonfuls of curry powder and some almond flavouring and carefully place my little treasure in the oven. The aroma is rather powerful so I open the back door.

I decorate my handiwork with thick sweet icing and a zest of lemon and in true traditional style I cram 56 birthday candles onto the, what now is a crowded, surface.

“I’m home munchkins. Where’s the pressie?” his voice rings in a happy tone.

“I’ve baked you a special treat. When you’ve had a cuppa and a taste, then you get your present.” I smile a little smile.

He cuts a huge slice to match his growing waist line.

“What a taste!” With a smack of his lips he says with relish, “I could eat it all. That’s the best I’ve ever tasted. What a wife!”

I watch unbelieving as he licks his fingers and presses them to his plate. I watch him savour every last crumb. He still doesn’t know how I hate cooking. Then I remember his present and smile. I reach behind the sofa and bring out his present. His bulgy little eyes light up with greed and he rips off the paper of the carefully wrapped parcel, to reveal Delia’s “How to Cook” books one and two.

Rainbow Delight

The sun shone custard beams
in hazy cloud-free sky.
No sign of rain to blur the day,
yet rain came;
light drizzly, sizzly rain.
And when I glanced again
I counted colours in the sky.
Arc of light,
painted with magic.
And I watched its wonder.

This poem was first published on All Things Girl

Happy Ever After (Writing Task)

‘Cindy go and make the tea and tidy your hair,’ said Annabelle. ‘Our visitor won’t want to see you.’ She smiled coyly at the young man who sat on the edge of the sofa.

Cindy left the room quietly and went to the kitchen where she heated water and put a large slab of cake on a china plate. When the tea was made she took it in and placed it quietly on the table near her step mother. There was a slightly unpleasant sour smell and Cindy realized that both her half-sisters, Annabelle and Carrabelle, had taken off their shoes. She slipped out of the room just as Annabelle was trying to force her size eight foot into Cindy’s delicate size four, glass shoe. She’d lost it at the dance last week.

‘Let me have another try,’ whined Carrabelle as Cindy slipped into the kitchen and closed the door.

It was ten minutes later when she heard her step mother’s piercing voice. ‘C..I..N..D..Y show out our guest.’

Cindy went to open the door to let Prince Alex out of the house. She had scraped her hair back from her face and slipped on an old pinny that had belonged to her mother. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t say, ‘thank you’.

‘Where will I find my love?’ the prince said pitifully to his guard. The guard looked at Cindy and a look of recognition flickered in his eyes.

Cindy shook her head at him just as he opened his mouth. He closed it again, looking puzzled.

‘I don’t know, your highness,’ said the guard and he and the prince walked towards her neighbour’s house.
***
At eight o’clock the next evening there was a knock on the kitchen door. Cindy with her hands covered in washing up suds opened the door. There was the guard.

‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Miss, but I had to come and find out why you didn’t want the prince to recognise you. Marrying him you’d be made for life. He’s completely minted.’

Cindy smiled at the young man.

‘Be honest. Do you like him?’ she asked.

The man’s cheeks slowly went red. ‘He’s my boss, Miss. It’s not up to me to give an opinion.’

‘Well I’ll give you my opinion then. Last week, while he leered down my cleavage for three hours, he told me about all his possessions. It was like a never ending list – on and on. I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t say to the prince, “I’d rather be at home, scivvying for my selfish family”. I was stuck with him all evening.’

The prince’s guard smiled and then he started to laugh.

‘You’re so …you are so refreshing.’

Cindy smiled back. ‘Tea?’

The writing task was to take a well known story and give it a different ending. Try to involve a cliffhanger. In my version, the cliff hanger is the ‘will they – won’t they get together’. I’ve left it to the reader to decide.

Why not try writing a different ending to a well known story and send them to me? I’d love to read them.

My children’s book is now on Amazon

I’m very excited that, ‘The Green Book’ is now available on Amazon. It is about a spellbook that ten year old Alana uses to make life exciting and to get her out of trouble. The stories follow on from one another but could be read separately. The book is suitable for the primary age range (4-11 year olds). It would be a good book for reluctant readers in the upper years at primary school as the chapters are short and the vocabulary designed to help young readers. Younger children will enjoy having the stories read to them.

The stories are available for free on this website but the book is clearly printed with a child friendly font and the book has illustrations. I hope my younger followers will enjoy it and will let me know what they think.

It costs £3.99 from Amazon

The Future Calls

I lifted the flap of the tent, ducking my head and blinking my eyes in the dim light. The enclosure was draped with rich coloured materials and threads of spangled glass and crystals. The lady sitting before me shivered but did not look up. She sat statue still and her silken garments, with their highly embroidered patterns flowed generously to the floor. As I stood there awkwardly, the world outside seemed to retreat and a silence enfolded us.

After a few moments the lady said, “I’m Catrina. We don’t have long,” waving her hand for me to be seated. “There’s much trouble ahead.” Her intense blue eyes looked directly at me. They were full of deep concern.

She continued, “I see a dark road with much danger lying before you, but do not despair. Within you there’s the ability to see the way. You must trust your instincts and remember always that, if you feel danger then that’s because there’s danger to feel.”

My heart went cold. I hadn’t expected such a look into the future when I’d entered the fortune-teller’s tent. I’d expected to be told that I’d meet a tall dark stranger. I thought their unwritten code of conduct didn’t permit bad news. I realized that I was cradling my head in my hands and when I looked up Catrina was gone.

I realized I hadn’t paid so I delved into my bag and placed ten fifty pence pieces in a row on the desk. I’d won them earlier on a side stall with a throw a hoop game. As the last coin touched the table so the noise from the fair started filtering into my mind.

Outside the ground was spongy; so many feet had trodden over the earth. There were children screaming with excitement on the rides and families having a go at winning the prizes on the stalls. Floaty pink clouds of candyfloss were walking about attached by tall sticks to happy children and the sky was punctuated with coloured balloons and streamers. The fair was crowded with happy people enjoying a not so cheap night out, but my joy at being there had diminished and I decided to go home.

Tonight I’d been going out to dinner with Mark to celebrate that we’d been dating for one year.

“Sorry Terri, I can’t do dinner tonight. I have to meet some clients.” Mark said as he came out of the bathroom.

“Are you serious? It’s our anniversary. Surely you could’ve seen them tomorrow.”

“We’ve been through all this before. While I’m still building the business up, it has to come first,” Mark tugged on his shirt as he was speaking. “Anyway I’ll make it up to you at the weekend.”

“But why on earth didn’t you tell me last night? Then I could at least have done something else.” I could hear that unattractive whine in my voice.

“Well I forgot.”

“Now I’m left on my own on our anniversary. Thanks a lot,” I continued.

“O.K. well if you want the truth, I knew you’d go off on one and I didn’t want to ruin the evening. We had a lovely time didn’t we?” He smiled at me with that winning smile.

I knew I’d been wrong footed but by this time Mark was going out of his front door and making his way to the garage. “Don’t forget to lock up when you leave,” he shouted. Minutes later I heard his BMW roar down the road.

On my drive to work I’d seen the fair. I decided I’d go there tonight. My Gran used to take me when I was a child. She passed away about three months ago, so tonight I’d go to the fair and remember her. The one place she would never take me was the fortune-teller’s tent.

“That’s strictly for adults,” she said. “You have to be old enough to know that everything they tell you could apply to anyone. It’s ok for a bit of fun as long as you don’t take it seriously.”

Naturally the one thing I promised myself to do when I was older was go to the fortune-teller’s tent. Now I wished I hadn’t bothered. I decided to head off to my home and watch a DVD when I realized that my laptop was round at Mark’s place. So I went there first.

The house was in darkness as I inserted the key into the front door. We had keys for each other’s homes because we spent most of our time together. We’d been ticking along quite happily going out a couple of times a week and then a few months ago Mark started being more serious. Naturally I’d been pleased. He’s so dynamic and exciting and when he smiles his eyes light up his face and you feel that all is well. His house was a large three-bedroom semi. My place was a tiny little flat at the top of a big old house. It was what I called cosy and Mark called pokey, but it was home.

As I entered his house I switched the light on in the lounge and picked up my laptop. The room seemed warm, which surprised me, as no one was home. It was then I noticed two wine glasses on the coffee table. I knew I’d washed up yesterday. Obviously I was mistaken. I was about to pick up the glasses to wash, when I heard a noise from upstairs. Hugging the laptop to my chest I crept towards the bottom of the stairs.

You must trust your instincts and remember always that if you feel danger then there’s danger to feel.

Is this what the fortune-teller was warning me about? Strangely I felt frightened but not in danger. Quietly I crept upstairs and paused on the landing outside the bedroom I’d slept in the night before.

I heard some giggling and then I heard Mark’s distinctive voice, “…here have another drop of champagne.”

There is much trouble ahead. The fortune-teller had been so right. My whole life had just shattered.

I turned and crept downstairs still hugging my laptop. Like a robot, I turned out the light and put the key back in the door to close it as quietly as I could. I made my escape as efficiently as a thief and it was only when I was in my car and driving away that the tears started to fall.

I found myself driving out to the country. There was nothing about. The roads were empty and it started raining. That suited my frame of mind. I travelled along narrower and narrower roads, without any idea of where I was going. My mind whizzed round all the times spent with Mark and the future that I thought we’d spend together. Everything changed with the sound of that giggle.

Suddenly I realized that I was travelling far too fast. I was coming up to a blind bend and there were warning signs at the side of the road. The image of ten fifty pence pieces flashed before my eyes. I slammed on my brakes so hard that the car jerked violently to a halt. Luckily nothing was following. I sat there for a few moments gathering my thoughts and gradually realized that there was an amber glow ahead, intermittently flashing.

I stuck on my hazards and walked round the corner. There in front of me was a mangled car embedded in the side of a tree. The couple in the car had missed the turning into the narrow entrance to a farm and hit the tree. The rain was now pouring down as I rushed over to the car. I pulled out my mobile. I managed to give the emergency services the name of the farm, which was signposted clearly. The occupants of the car were both still alive but unconscious and I decided to leave them where they were. It seemed to me that the car was unlikely to explode with so much rain pouring down.

What felt like hours passed, standing in the pouring rain and in pitch-blackness except for the amber glow, which lit up the scene one minute and quickly hid it the next. I didn’t try to switch off the indicator. There was complete silence except the sound of my squelching feet as I moved from one side of the car to the other checking the pulses of the two injured youngsters. I should’ve felt alone and scared but I knew I could have easily joined this tangled mess of metal. If I hadn’t stopped, there would have been no hope for any of us. Eventually sirens blasted through the night accompanied by blue flashing lights and a policeman shouted at me to stand back. Soon the couple was taken to hospital.

The following day I went to the hospital to see how they were getting on. I was looking through the window in the ward where the girl lay and her mother was sitting by her bed. If I hadn’t known better I would have sworn that the mother was Catrina. She glanced my way and our eyes met. They were intense blue eyes and it seemed a flash of recognition passed between us. Obviously it was just a coincidence.

Mark was very surprised when I told him that I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore or investing my Gran’s money in his business. I never did explain why. Let him work it out. At least it will dent his ego.

Now I sit in my little newly bought cottage and think over the events on that night, it occurs to me how Catrina’s words rang true. Within you there is the ability to see the way. Sometimes as I curl up on the sofa I shudder at the thought of what my life might have been like if I hadn’t gone to the fair? I don’t dwell on it for long though. Thanks to Catrina, the future calls.

This is one of my older stories (which I wasn’t too happy with) but I’ve re-editted. Does it work now? Let me know.

One Night Stand

Sophie smoothed her blonde hair and applied blood red lipstick to her pouting mouth. Her hands stroked the black silky material of the sleek dress. She fastened the gold button of the matching jacket and left the building.

When she entered the bar she spotted a likely ‘top up’ within seconds. He was tall and broad with mousy hair. He’d be pleased that she was interested in him. He was reasonably good-looking but had a scar down the left-hand side of his face. It should have detracted from his appeal, but it made him more interesting. When she approached him his eyes were bright and alert. She liked intelligent men.

‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked.

She thought about the drink she’d like. It would be a dark red; thick and warm. It would trickle down her throat slowly and as it did, power would surge through her.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I’ll have a red wine, or shall we go somewhere quiet?’ she said in her deep sexy voice.

He smiled a lopsided smile. ‘Don’t you know you shouldn’t pick up strange men in bars?’ he asked.

‘Oh I can look after myself,’ she said, noticing he wore a strange silver pendant in the shape of an eight pointed compass. It had an unusually long south pointing spike. She had good reason to hate silver, but it had to be driven into her heart to end her seven hundred years of life. ‘You wouldn’t think a man with a rugby type physique would be wearing such a necklace, but maybe he’s an explorer,’ she thought laughing silently to herself.

He took his jacket from the nearby chair and followed her out through the crowded room. She took the stranger into the alley behind the pub and looked at his great height through her dark long lashes. She stretched up to meet him as he stooped to reach her. Perhaps the difference in their sizes would be a problem.

Sophie kissed him gently at first and felt his hands start to roam. He undid her jacket. ‘Cheeky,’ she thought. It was time to put a stop to that. She didn’t want to be diverted, although on another day she might have been quite interested in this large virile looking man. But today she needed a ‘top up’. It was the greater need. In fact it’d become an urgent hunger.

When they drew apart she pulled him closer as if to hug him. It was then her teeth sank into his neck. ‘Oh the taste is so wonderful, ‘she thought as she felt the warmth of his blood begin to flow into her. Strange he didn’t pull away. They usually did. She had to judge it right; to take enough to leave him unconscious but not to kill him. She enjoyed these ‘top ups’, only allowing herself a kill on her birthday.

Kills caused such a lot of fuss and as the centuries passed the police were getting better at investigating the deaths so she couldn’t do it every day. Once a year, on her birthday she indulged herself until she was stupefied with the power she’d drawn, but that was a week away. Still this one was a big man so she could take a good sized drink.

She felt him move away slightly and suddenly she realized what he was about to do. Using all her power she sucked his blood with great force. She felt the dagger at her chest but kept draining the strength from him. Within seconds he staggered backwards and collapsed onto the ground. ‘Oh well,’ she thought, ‘my birthday’s come early this year,’ and kneeling down, she took a deep breath and finished her annual treat.