Frostbit: A Tale Before Christmas

The Devil’s child stood silent, cloaked in darkness, watching as a spring-cherry maiden made her way into the garden. The stars led her eyes forward and she saw only the vivid outlines of the flora’s growth: an untended garden. Nightshade took over the earthly soil and she bent forward to pick an eggplant from the abandoned gift-giver. With a cheese dagger, she sliced the vine grasping the fruit and placed it in her wicker basket. Her senses were heightened by the light of the full moon and drove her to walk in a powerful, tip-toe motion, which crushed the weeds below the balls of her feet. The ground around her was cold to the touch; the warmth from the sun had departed hours ago. Feeling the violation of prying eyes, the maiden looked about the scene. A sense of confusion filled her body and loneliness struck her core; the beats in her veins pounded faster. The woman began to panic, feeling something was terribly wrong, but the monster in the shadows kept still. She reached for another eggplant, keeping her head up to see the world around her, and accidentally cut her finger with the dagger; her lungs took in deep breaths. After a few minutes of this tension release, the woman felt the faux safety the tormentor had been waiting for. It lunged for her. The maiden’s short yelp was broken by a forceful clasp binding her mouth. The prayer: ‘God protect me’ overran her mind as her arms went to push the criminal away, but she knew her soul was lost when its vision borrowed hers. Its eyes petrified her inevitable corpse and poisoned her heart with its tainted love. Like many before her, she was cursed to be the feast for the darkest of the damned. She was a prisoner and Count Jacques Von Frost, the vampire, was her captor.

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