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Authors: ghislainviau
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easily, but it had become clear after a time that he didn’t want to change, even if it killed him. That’s when she knew that staying with Michael would only result in her own destruction. As devastating as it was, she’d fi led for divorce.
At least one life would be saved.
6
Christina Moss
The fi nalization of her divorce was signifi cant. It was the end of her stint in hell. But it was an unhappy ending, and it left her feeling empty and defeated.
Even under the thick bathrobe, the cold of the late autumn night made her shiver, so she opened the bottom drawer of her bureau and pulled out her fl annel pajamas. She hadn’t worn them in a long time. She quickly put them on and rewrapped herself in the bathrobe before bending down to slide the drawer shut, but before she closed it she noticed an old blanket. She told herself that she’d have to go through her things and throw away some clutter. The blanket was quickly pulled out and tossed into the corner to remind her to clean out drawers and closets the next day. It gave her something to look forward to — cleaning, a sort of therapy in itself.
She raised her foot to close the drawer and that’s when she spotted it — the large tattered and torn manila envelope that had been sitting underneath the blanket. She inhaled suddenly and with swelled emotion said aloud, “Oh, Alexander! Where have you been?”
Zoe withdrew the envelope before sliding the drawer shut.
She sat down at the edge of her bed clutching the package, and an avalanche of memories returned. How long had it been since she’d dreamed of him? Alexander, her handsome and imaginary guardian vampire.
7
Vampire of My Dreams
She looked into the distance at nothing but memories and squinted in concentration. A smile fl ashed as the vague dreams resurfaced. But the smile quickly faded when she remembered why she had subconsciously invented him in the fi rst place — she needed him in order to get through the unimaginable pain following the tragic events of a fateful birthday eleven years earlier. That was when Zoe fi rst began having vivid dreams of Alexander.
The dreams had begun after her parents had been bru-tally murdered in the very house she continued to live in to that very day. She’d witnessed the violence but had been knocked unconscious before the rampage ended, and woke up in a hospital. It was the day she turned eighteen.
That night and the following day were fi lled with homicide inspectors, medical exams, police interviews, forms to fi ll out and the media assault. She’d arrived back home the next night — alone and broken. After crying for hours she’d fi nally fallen asleep.
That was the fi rst night she dreamed of the vampire. Then she continued to dream of him two, sometimes three times a week. But then the dreams had stopped, and when they did, Alexander had faded from her mind and the only records of Zoe’s conversations with him were written in six journals now tucked away in the large manila envelope she held in her hands. And she hadn’t viewed them since. She’d forgotten all about Alexander — such is the nature of dreams.
8
Christina Moss
It was still early so she stepped into her slippers and with the envelope in hand, she headed downstairs to the living room. After removing the screen from the fi replace, she grabbed some old newspapers that she’d rolled up and tied into knots a few nights before. Zoe tossed eight or ten of them onto the hearth, then placed four logs over them.
She reached up to the mantel and found the box of long matches. After lighting one she held it under the newspaper ends until they fl ared up nicely, and then carefully replaced the screen.
Zoe positioned herself comfortably across the sofa, reached back and pulled the chain to light the lamp on the end table behind her. She looked at the envelope. There was, at fi rst, a fl ash of doubt about venturing into the past, a past even more painful than the present. But a sudden
At least one life would be saved.
6
Christina Moss
The fi nalization of her divorce was signifi cant. It was the end of her stint in hell. But it was an unhappy ending, and it left her feeling empty and defeated.
Even under the thick bathrobe, the cold of the late autumn night made her shiver, so she opened the bottom drawer of her bureau and pulled out her fl annel pajamas. She hadn’t worn them in a long time. She quickly put them on and rewrapped herself in the bathrobe before bending down to slide the drawer shut, but before she closed it she noticed an old blanket. She told herself that she’d have to go through her things and throw away some clutter. The blanket was quickly pulled out and tossed into the corner to remind her to clean out drawers and closets the next day. It gave her something to look forward to — cleaning, a sort of therapy in itself.
She raised her foot to close the drawer and that’s when she spotted it — the large tattered and torn manila envelope that had been sitting underneath the blanket. She inhaled suddenly and with swelled emotion said aloud, “Oh, Alexander! Where have you been?”
Zoe withdrew the envelope before sliding the drawer shut.
She sat down at the edge of her bed clutching the package, and an avalanche of memories returned. How long had it been since she’d dreamed of him? Alexander, her handsome and imaginary guardian vampire.
7
Vampire of My Dreams
She looked into the distance at nothing but memories and squinted in concentration. A smile fl ashed as the vague dreams resurfaced. But the smile quickly faded when she remembered why she had subconsciously invented him in the fi rst place — she needed him in order to get through the unimaginable pain following the tragic events of a fateful birthday eleven years earlier. That was when Zoe fi rst began having vivid dreams of Alexander.
The dreams had begun after her parents had been bru-tally murdered in the very house she continued to live in to that very day. She’d witnessed the violence but had been knocked unconscious before the rampage ended, and woke up in a hospital. It was the day she turned eighteen.
That night and the following day were fi lled with homicide inspectors, medical exams, police interviews, forms to fi ll out and the media assault. She’d arrived back home the next night — alone and broken. After crying for hours she’d fi nally fallen asleep.
That was the fi rst night she dreamed of the vampire. Then she continued to dream of him two, sometimes three times a week. But then the dreams had stopped, and when they did, Alexander had faded from her mind and the only records of Zoe’s conversations with him were written in six journals now tucked away in the large manila envelope she held in her hands. And she hadn’t viewed them since. She’d forgotten all about Alexander — such is the nature of dreams.
8
Christina Moss
It was still early so she stepped into her slippers and with the envelope in hand, she headed downstairs to the living room. After removing the screen from the fi replace, she grabbed some old newspapers that she’d rolled up and tied into knots a few nights before. Zoe tossed eight or ten of them onto the hearth, then placed four logs over them.
She reached up to the mantel and found the box of long matches. After lighting one she held it under the newspaper ends until they fl ared up nicely, and then carefully replaced the screen.
Zoe positioned herself comfortably across the sofa, reached back and pulled the chain to light the lamp on the end table behind her. She looked at the envelope. There was, at fi rst, a fl ash of doubt about venturing into the past, a past even more painful than the present. But a sudden
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