WitchBite

Curses Three

"Extensively. It's quite a hobby and well... I have nothing but time" She smiled gently, procuring two china cups from a small caddy to her side, and a very delicate, already steaming, tea pot. She poured the golden brown liquid from it's spout, removing the chance for me to decline as she slid it silently in my direction.

"Do you have any favourites? Like genres that you like?"

"I do. But if I tell you, you'd find it quite laughable, and I do not think I could bare such shame." Elizabeth giggled mischievously. I was hooked by that response, as insanely formal as it was; I must discover it. Was it erotica? Was that her favourite? Trash romance maybe? Those books that are always by the checkouts in corner shops by authors you've never head of, and usually involve some form of ill fated romance? I bet its horror. Poetry? Neck-biting for dummies?

"What? After that response, you have to tell me. I'll go insane trying to figure it out otherwise!" I pleaded, as I scanned other books in vain in an attempt to find some form of theme but coming up short.

"Well, would you not miss the mystery? The unknown aspects of my personality that are always teasingly out of reach?" She toyed

"Nope. I'd like to know you. Aside from Aramis, and Casper: you've been the only Vampire I've met so far that's been nice to me for more than ten minutes." I replied, immediately scolding my tongue on the tea in an attempt to stop myself from probably insulting her family any further.

"I like Vampire novels. Romance. Horror. The works" Her words immediately caused the tea to be ejected from the cup at my choke, and splash scalding liquid, into my face, up my nose, and down my shirt. I coughed and spluttered, dabbing at my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, somewhat fighting the sting. Elizabeth's laughter ringing in my ears while I wheezed.

"Really?" I croaked, taking deep breaths in an attempt to compose myself. No fucking way.

"Mhmm." She grinned affirmatively.

"I have so many questions. Do they ever get things right? Are you ever offended by how they represent Vampires? Have you ever met a Vampire that sparkled?" The last question caused an uncharacteristic snort from Elizabeth as she brought her cup to her lips and sipped.

"Some of the things they get right, some of the things they get wrong. It's strange really the accuracy sometimes, but that's usually circumvented by something completely in the opposite direction a page or two later. No, I don't get offended by it. It's just an interpretation by people that have listened in on the longest game of Chinese whispers, about what we are and what we should be, and I personally don't find it offensive because for all they know: they're talking about something that doesn't exist. They can do as they please. That's not to say I never get offended. There have been a few times where I couldn't read on, and I've met a few others that get deeply offended by any form of literature that involves our kind no matter the contents. A product of a sense of superiority I should imagine. And yes, once. When Casper was three he somehow managed to tip an entire pot of glitter on top of his head when Mother took him to a crafts store. No matter how much he was bathed: he sparkled for about two weeks afterwards. Mothers furniture never looked so twinkly."

We both shared a laugh, it was strange having such a casual conversation with someone such as her. Elizabeth, to me, seemed like someone to be admired from a distance. The subject of envious whispers from on lookers who's attention was wholly snatched by her presence. A dark piece of art that one is cautioned to only admire from a far, lest you be escorted off the premises by security and beaten in a sewage filled alleyway as a reminder of your worth by comparison. Of course that was all preposterous. She was a person after all. A morbidly beautiful one at that. Bitter but unequivocally rich, like the darkest of chocolates.