I swear I'm obsessed with vampires. If it's written at any time past one in the morning, it's about death or vampires. I think that's just one of those unwritten laws about my writing. "Mama, I'm thirsty." The child tugged anxiously at his mother's skirt, looking up at her with wide, flat eyes. The mother swept her long beautiful black hair over her shoulder and stopped her lips from curving in annoyance. She deftly detached the child's hands from her skirt and avoided his flat, dead looking eyes. "Not now, dear. Mama's waiting for papa." Her eyes were brilliant, sparkling eyes, looking through the window. The child wrapped his arms around her, clutching her skirt in a death grip. "But that's what you said yesterday, mama. And I'm thirsty." She had to struggle before the boy finally relented in his grip on her skirt. She still avoided his eyes as she pushed him in the direction of the door. "Not now, I said. Go outside and play. Mama needs to wait for your papa to come home. Then we'll all have a nice, long drink, alright?" The boy shifted from foot to foot before finally running out the door with a reproachful look at his mother. She didn't notice. Her face was still turned to the window, watching. "Yes, dear, you'll be fed when your father comes home," she murmured absently. It soon became too late for the little boy to play anymore; he came back to find that his mother hadn't moved. "Mama?" he asked hesitantly. "Can I have something to drink now?" He tugged on her sleeve. "Papa's not coming home, mama. And I'm thirsty." The beautiful black hair suddenly seemed dull and jull of thinning gray hairs, and the once sparkling blue eyes now seemed more lifeless than her son's. Wrinkles blossomed across her face; her proud shoulders drooped. "Yes dear," she said woodenly. "Just a moment." Her movements were mechanical, graceless, and jerky. She took the razor sharp paring knife from its sheath around her neck and opened an old scar on her left arm. The child latched his mouth to her bleeding arm and drank thirstily. His mother's ancient eyes stared out the window at the horizon, filled with anger and despair.