SHATTERED
She glided down the marble staircase; her hands were clutching an ornate mirror. The wind howled with rage outside those dark, vintage French windows; draped in purple velvet. The empty room echoed an eerie silence, and she; her dark curls brushing against her fair skin, stood by those windows the abandoned castle. She touched the velvet, and caressed it with her long fingers - their red shade attracted her attention. What was thirst for blood? A scurrying sound disturbed her musings, and in flash she caught that rat by its tail - and flung it out of an open window. She eyed herself in the ornate mirror, her expression wild. "Why?" she wondered, "am I so addicted to this dark red fluid? What powers lie in those droplets that I love so?" She smiled at herself in the antique mirror that reflected her beautiful face, and glanced at her incomplete canvas. She sighed. The dark room lit up suddenly in an eerie glow ...