The strength of the vampire is that people will not believe in him.
There are times I have looked over my shoulder waiting for someone/something to be there whispering all the stuff I write about. The little angel/devil that whispers the sweet nothings about what I should do to this character or that. I listen, but there are times when it feels like there is someone else there with me. The darker the words the more I feel it. Running down the hallway with my characters screaming I see it more often. Things do go bump and things do go amiss. I am the first to say that things are not always what they seem. I have felt something in the air since I was very little. The more I write the more I feel it breathing on my neck. The heat from its mouth a warm respite to the cold that comes when my fingers are not on the keys.
Different things are falling around me sometimes, I feel the cold like the wind creating goosebumps on a baby’s skin. Feeling these things I know that there is more to my writing than just words or stories. It is an absolute release from life. Letting everything out, breathing with every breath of every day. I feel a new story the way the gods know it is going to rain. Every day I feel the words, it comes in tumultuous ribbons of color and shadow. Each piece of it a new story I find hidden in a dream I never knew.