These are the journal entries of a centuries old vampire, Nicolas Rider. Welcome to his world...


Wednesday, September 9, 2020

September 15, 1980 – London

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    The red of her dress catches my eye. It is familiar. I saw her earlier tonight on a payphone in the hotel lobby. She was speaking to her husband about the children’s bedtime and sending her love to him. Then she promptly went upstairs and put on the dress the fits just a tad too tight. Her heels have not been out of the closet in some time. They still have a fine sheen of dust in the places she missed while wiping them off so quickly. As I watch her, I find myself wondering whether her blood will clash or blend with her dress should I happen to spill any on it. I suppose I will find out soon enough. 
    She pushes her hair behind her ear, exposing the empty hand that once displayed her set of diamond rings. And she sits a little too close to a man who smiles just a little too much. As he opens his wallet to pay for their drinks, I can see the indention of his own wedding band, tucked neatly away inside the leather folds. As they head toward the elevators, I smile. Neither of their spouses will believe the rumors. Neither will acknowledge the monsters that were lying to them. Only accepting that a monster was assuredly in the hotel room tonight and it was that monster that destroyed their happy families. I will have to leave town for a while. Just a few months. Not long enough for Marcella to find me as long as I am careful. But long enough for the dust to settle some. Perhaps Italy. Or maybe America. I hear California is nice this time of year.


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