They, her parents and sister, were human. Each day they awoke, Patrick serving pancakes with lashings of maple syrup. Leticia would check the homework, offering helpful corrections. Their devoted daughter, Luliana, lapped up the attention. She thrived on sunshine, all sweetness and light, as she made friends and planned her prom night. Luliana would grow, and not from all the food she enjoyed. There would be a celebration as she marked each year as one she lived. She could lie on the beach and bronze her skin. Take picnics in the park. Luliana could worry as each year passed, seeing a wrinkle or a grey hair. Her body would tire and succumb to gravity in places she wished it hadn’t. They will together grow old and die, remembered in the Netherworld, guided by the grim reaper. Everything that made them human, Daciana was about to lose.
They had no comprehension of the changes inside. The way her body seemed to twist in on itself. Daciana felt her heartbeat slow and took fewer breaths. Casimir was blunt. He explained how she would die between her eighteen and twenty-first birthday. With a half-blood, death was not an exact science. He was three days shy of his twentieth birthday. Daciana sniggered. Because of the ashen hue of his skin and the scar he refused to explain, time since death aged him. Daciana would have guessed mid-thirties but kept that thought. Her real question was, how long had he been twenty?
Daciana watched, shielded in her cottage, envious of her sister. Luliana hung out with her friends and splashed in the pool. Life for her was carefree. She lived the fairytale life. Daciana wondered if her sister saw her as an evil presence. Every princess had someone to knock them down. Each would wait, sleep or succumb to a temporary death, awoken with a kiss. It would come from the pompous Prince Charming. She wondered if the writers considered how camp they wrote these men. The animated movies hyped the comedic value of the male hero. At the same time, gave a modern twist allowing the princesses more clout. Daciana appreciated a woman who could swing a frying pan in self-defense. It was preferable to the maid and her seven men. She was gullible, charmed by a grey hair woman and a shiny red apple. These things were not real, but Daciana knew not to accept food from strangers.
She sucked the straw, the cold metallic blood chilling her body. Daciana missed Patrick. When he cooked, the house smelt amazing. As children, they sat on the bar stools. Patrick would ask them to close their eyes, giving each a spoon. He wanted them to savour their food. Teaching them to understand how flavour influenced what they enjoyed. Luliana once ate chocolate she found on the floor. An upset stomach soon followed, and Patrick felt this was enough punishment. Daciana knew her sister would fail the taste test every time and saw her as the gullible maid. As for herself, she realised her vampiric gift had been present her whole life. She could, in a blind test, distinguish subtle changes in the sauce Patrick made. For instance, when he added cumin or coriander, nutmeg or cinnamon. Food was not something Daciana thought she would miss. As the days blurred and her stomach withered, food would become the past.
Daciana: https://katverse.com/2019/03/01/bored-in-bed-poses/
By the Grace of Sim Gods 