Sneak peak from Vlad
Here's a little peak at Vlad's story. It probably won't be as detailed as this because it will be a children's book (and the words need to actually fit on the page) but I may publish this little story as an ebook. Of course, the more I reread it, the more I like it...
My name is Vlad.I’m a normal lad. Well. A vampire lad.That’s what Gramps calls me.
I live in a dusty old manor with Gramps the Vamp and my two best friends, Wilbur and Princess. Wilbur is a spider with long fuzzy legs. He enjoys gourmet flies, making designer cob webs, and long eight-legged walks in the moonlight. Princess is a piranha. She only enjoys eating and giving Gramps the “willies” with her twitchy stare.
I may not look it, but I’m a bit of a nervous guy. Gramps thinks I’m being silly, but I think there’s something suspicious lurking in my room.
I stand outside the bathroom, watching Gramps pluck out his pointy dentures and scrub them with a wiry tooth brush. I see the brush bobs up and down by itself in the blotchy reflection of the mirror. Gramps, sensing me behind him, grumbles through his gums and glares at me over his shoulder.
“Ye maight es whell say et,” he says, his Scottish accent getting mangled by his toothless mouth. “Yer effraid of tee dark!”
“I am not,” I say, shuffling my feet and clutching at Count Teddy. “I’m just afraid of what’s in it.”
Gramps rolls his eyes as he pops his fangs back into his hollow mouth. “Eh alright, I ‘pose I can take one last look ba-fore ye go to bed.”
My name is Vlad.I’m a normal lad. Well. A vampire lad.That’s what Gramps calls me.
I live in a dusty old manor with Gramps the Vamp and my two best friends, Wilbur and Princess. Wilbur is a spider with long fuzzy legs. He enjoys gourmet flies, making designer cob webs, and long eight-legged walks in the moonlight. Princess is a piranha. She only enjoys eating and giving Gramps the “willies” with her twitchy stare.
I may not look it, but I’m a bit of a nervous guy. Gramps thinks I’m being silly, but I think there’s something suspicious lurking in my room.
I stand outside the bathroom, watching Gramps pluck out his pointy dentures and scrub them with a wiry tooth brush. I see the brush bobs up and down by itself in the blotchy reflection of the mirror. Gramps, sensing me behind him, grumbles through his gums and glares at me over his shoulder.
“Ye maight es whell say et,” he says, his Scottish accent getting mangled by his toothless mouth. “Yer effraid of tee dark!”
“I am not,” I say, shuffling my feet and clutching at Count Teddy. “I’m just afraid of what’s in it.”
Gramps rolls his eyes as he pops his fangs back into his hollow mouth. “Eh alright, I ‘pose I can take one last look ba-fore ye go to bed.”
Published on October 30, 2013 06:33
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