Your time isn't come yet. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. Immortal! You were in the beginning, and all the men in the world who have known what love is have worshipped at your feet. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. I'll try to fill in the gaps. I shouldn't care to express an opinion. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. He had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires. I used to go by the name Lucy Iovelli, which was my natural father’s surname.
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