I am the vampire Athyria. I am the goddess Bastet. I am your next door neighbour. I am the one who broke into your house and stole all your bloody underwear.
What? You didn't see it coming? Should there have been some grey van outside the flat lurking day-by-day to tip you off? Some previous rash of housebreakings? Some fault of your own to have invited some misfortune?
My brother told me there would be days like this, but he liked to read a lot, the little twat. Him, he just ended up dead. I ended up undead, knife in the hand, popped fingers, bloody neck and all. Yes, bloody. I mean literally. With blood. It has been well over two years since my last post, but damn, I used the word bloody a lot. Granted, I was also rather upset, as you might have gathered reading it. Or might gather, if you haven't yet. Or might not, since most people are after all too lazy to click a button.
Things have changed. The whole affair ended horribly unspectacularly, no shoot out, no time machines, not even a shrink to coax me off a ledge. I never even made it that far.
The others caught me.
I didn't even bloody know there were others.