LexiLane's profile

The fire burning beneath the ornately carved mantle, unnecessary as it was for our comfort, was nice to look at. The crackling sound, combined with the orange and yellow glow of the licking flames, was comforting - almost hypnotizing. Everett sat lightly in front of the fire, nearly hovering atop the over-sized love seat despite his large frame. "There are many things I know you've had to discover on your own about our kind, Lillian. But there are also many things you should not have to lear...

Everett and Jillian Easton found me shortly after my move to a city called Cloverdale. It was bigger than most of the towns I'd been living in, but with a population under ten thousand not large enough to be a cause for concern. I'd found it best to avoid big cities. With big cities came a high populous of both humans and . . . others. And over the years I'd learned it best to stay away from communities full of my kind. In the past, they had not taken kindly to a vampire that refused to hunt...

The night that I died was depressingly uneventful. If it weren't for the minor fact that I was killed and turned into a vampire that night, August 17th, 1874 would have been a normal, horribly forgettable day. My brother David and I had finished our chores and studies, allowing us what remained of the evening for leisure. We could stay outside only until dark, a long-standing, unexplained demand from our father. As it was our favorite place to go when we were allowed, I followed my brother t...

My first glimpses of Winterhaven were distorted images viewed through the foggy, rain-soaked windows of my car. The sky was a heavy gray and dumped sheets of rain toward the earth. I generally enjoyed such dismal weather, but I despised driving through it. The windshield wipers couldn't move water quickly enough to keep up with the storm, strong winds pushed at my small car, causing me to grip the steering wheel with excessive force, and my tires proved to be in serious need of replacement a...

I hated the world I had created. I had, single handedly, ruined two lives, and made one sweet and innocent, unlucky bystander's life, at the least, more difficult than necessary. But there was no turning back for me now. The damage had been done; the mistakes could not be mended. My only option was to push through the seemingly perpetual misery and guilt, just to find more of the same. I suppose that was the story of my life - ruining all good that came to me, and anything in between. Worse,...