I have a secret.
It’s not mind boggling or whisper worthy but to me its something that is mine…a secret fantasy, or others might call it, an alter ego. You see, I’m an a kick ass beautiful assassin who men lust over and fear. I walk the streets with confidence, meeting the eyes of passerbys with a haughty smirk, knowing that if I wished I could easily remove them from this world with none knowing the better.
I’m also a top notch thief, able to get past the most advanced security systems without breaking a sweat. I glide by in the night, walking through your dreams to get to what I want, your most prized possession. Whether its to distract you with a bat of my lashes as I pick your pocket or etching through a glass window at twenty stories up to cross a room filled with electronic sensors, nothing will stop me from my goal.
Some days I’m dark and gorgeous, deep inside blood thirsty and empty of human emotion. Once I was living but now I’m not. Years ago I died at the hands of a stranger only to be reborn into something stronger, faster, deadlier, for I am vampire, a creature of the night damned for all enternity to live as civilation around me blossoms and dies.
The imagination of a writer is something different, something special, for it is we who create new worlds, create new life and bring to others these vivid scenes of wonder. For most of us life is a dream, we think them, sleep them, find ourself obessed with them and in the end, if we’re lucky, we can manage to jot down our thoughts to share with others.
For me one side effect of this passion is that I am unable to turn it off. It travels with me everywhere I go; at the store, in school, walking down the street, even on the bus. It robs me of my sleep, occupies my every thoughts, and distracts me during conversations. I’m sure people that pass me in public wonder as to my nature. At times I speak out loud, working out a scene for my next chapter. At other times I become so obessessed that any disruption becomes an irritatent, locking myself away from everyone until my character’s stories are put to paper.
And when it finally does, when the story is complete I can sit back and sigh, relax until the next character steps forward to claim my attention, to drawn me into obession once again and we begin another dance of words.
For you see, I have a secret.
I have a secret.