Dear Journal,

Can you picture it? 

The perfect night?

A harvest moon hanging above, so big you could almost touch it, dark plumes of cloud bathing in it's ruddy glow. The streets, oh so quiet, bar too lovers walking hand in hand across the park to get home. Ah, even from the trees, I could hear the hum of his blood pumping through his veins. I get the feeling he will be a most delicious meal.

But my, I can't help to be the jealous type. Vampires often are, you know. I can't help that I like to play with my food either.

Picture this, dear journal: The sky suddenly black with bats. A silohuette against that blood-coloured moon, standing on the treetops, barely for a single glimpse. And then your lover screaming as she is ripped from your arms, dipped delicately in the arms of someone strange and new, her sweet sweet voice slowly quieting as she falls into rapture with their gorgeous red eyes. Ah, there is nothing more beautiful then two women entwined. 

Doesn't it make a pretty picture, dear Journal? 

...