“ I am not host or vampire . I am human .” “ That ’ s what your blood and your pulse claim , but what about everything else ?” “ Everything else ?” “ Look around you .” He gestured . “ Start with yourself .
Do you see anything that you recognise ?” Casting her gaze downwards , she followed his instruction and as the frown feathered her eyebrows and spread to her lips , the coat and boots dissolved . Reconfigured to the more familiar white cotton night gown .
“ Is that something humans do ? Dismiss their wardrobes with but a thought ?”
Witnessing confusion , doubt and maybe a trace of fear ripple across her face , he waited for her grip on the glamour she ’ d woven around him , to slip . Then he seized the loose threads and rewove them .
Darkness fled to bright sunshine . Blue butterflies floated over a ruined castle .
“ Changing clothes thus , is something vampires and their hosts do .” He waved his hand like a theatre magician and exchanged his evening wear for a sailor ’ s uniform , a ringmaster ’ s scarlet jacket and top hat , a priest ’ s cassock and sash , and then back to his …
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Frances Tate continues her novella from Issue 5 , with part 4 wrapping it up in Issue 7 . She is a self-published vampire writer , and a self-published and traditionally published writer of drabbles . She lives in the north west of England where she is working on a series of vampire books that explore the pseudo-science of vampires . Frances enjoys curry , cinema , and reading .
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