Crimson coats the sky, high up were little birds dare not fly.

Little birds dart and hide as large shadows pass up high.

Little bird do not cry make no sound while you fly,

sing no song, flap no wing, soar only from tree to tree.

Little bird do not look where other birds have been took.

Little bird, little bird you have been found. Little bird you made a sound.

Little bird you so did look.

Crimson coat you do now wear.

Little bird your vacant stare.

Little bird you soared too high where you were warned not to fly.

So down low you do now lay as warning to stay away.

Little bird, little bird look out there do not fly over there.

What if you woke up and your whole world changed.
What if everything that you knew was a lie even your humanity.
Elizabeth was a girl like any other until one day she wasn't.


“I give you one simple task—kill that little bitch—and you can’t even do that right.” The voice of Ms. Parker barked into the night, a loud slap punctuating her words.

 “But Aunt Belinda, I did exactly what you said; it’s not my fault that she didn’t hit the brakes.” Her sniveling goon was a relative of hers; gee, why am I not surprised.

 “Stop that whining. How my sister could ever have given birth to you! You’re a disgrace to the family name. Why she didn’t drown you at birth, I’ll never know.”

 “But Auntie,” Johnathon started. The slap she dealt him sounded close.

 “Shut up! Can’t you smell it? Fresh blood, she must be close,” Ms. Parker whispered as she unerringly made her way toward me.

 I was closer then she thought. I looked down on the tops of their heads, holding my breath in fear that one of them would hear me breathing. When she laid her hand on my tree, I thought my heart would burst. Frantically, I tried to slow it, but when she looked up I knew I hadn’t been fast enough. Her eyes were gleaming like a fire in the night, flashing a color I had never seen on any vampire I had met yet, and they stared straight at me through the branches and leaves that I sought as protection.

 A look of glee twisted her face. “Well, look what I’ve found, a little bird roosting in a tree just waiting to get plucked from its nest. Jonathon, won’t you be a dear, go up and pluck that little bird down for Auntie. I find that I’m suddenly starved.”

 Watching as he shuffled toward my tree, I frantically searched for an escape route but given how weak I was, unless I fast or lucky, I wouldn’t make it. Reaching out his hand, Jonathon dug his nails into the tree and began to climb toward me. The frantic beat of my heart began to slow as a strange form of calmness that I recognized overtook me the closer he came to me. My emotions seemed to be shutting down, and the thing within me began to surface, taking me over. Within a moment he was right below me, reaching his arm out toward me. Clinically, like an observer, I watched the scene unfold.

Angelique Jones