De eerste twee weken in Frankrijk, weg van de zelf-medicatie en het bijbehorende vluchtgedrag, kwam er opeens weer een personage uit de duisternis gelopen. Of, beter gezegd: ze hield niet op met zeuren totdat ik eindelijk begon aan haar verhaal. Het daadwerkelijke verhaal – nee; boek – moet nog geschreven worden, maar dit is een leuk begin. Lees en oordeel zelf:
She paced around the cramped, dark room, bumping into the edges every now and again. Her flowing dark dress billowed around her legs as she spun in circles, trying to find a way out. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime in the stifling darkness, she stopped in what she assumed was the middle of the room and placed her hands on her hips.
“Alright, I’ve had it! I’ve been stuck in here for Selene-knows-how-long and I want out!” She thrust one of her heel clad feet into the air and made contact with a wall. A shudder ran through the unknown material, but nothing else happened. She struck it again with the sharp heel of her shoe. “Let.” Kick. “Me.” Kick. “Out!” She kicked the wall so hard the last time, her shoe became stuck.
A growl emanated from deep in her throat as she ripped the shoe from the wall. Keeping it gripped tightly in her fist, she raised her hand to strike.
“For crying out loud, Trystana, could you stop that? You’re giving me a migraine.”
Trystana spun around and stared in astonishment at the short blonde in the room with her now. The blonde stood in a circle of light that seemed to come from nowhere and was rubbing her head.
The stranger looked at Trystana with a guilty look on her face. “I’m sorry I’ve been keeping you locked up in here. I didn’t mean to.” The woman’s blue eyes came to rest on Trystana’s forehead and she cocked her head to the side, a frown making her forehead crease. “I don’t remember ever giving you horns. What’s up with that?”
“What do you mean, you never gave me horns?” Trystana asked the mysterious blonde as she raised a hand to her forehead and touched the end of one. Internally she was still debating whether or not to impale the woman with them, but somehow she knew that if she wanted to get out, this stranger was the key.
The blonde let out a deep sigh. “Long story.”
“I have all the time in the world, apparently.” she said, indicating the dark room with a wave of her hand. “Unless you want to let me out, then I’d be more than happy to let you write your story.”
Something akin to a laugh escaped the woman’s throat. “You’ve got that all wrong. The only way you’re getting out of here is if you let me write your story.”
Trystana stared at the blonde in wonder; mostly wondering if she would be better or worse off if she threw the woman against the wall. Instead she decided to ask, “What are you talking about? My story?”
The woman nodded. “This isn’t easy to explain and you won’t like it.” She glanced at Trystana’s horns and grimaced. “And please don’t use those on me. I still haven’t figured out why a vampire suddenly has horns.”