Sweet Nightmares (*Monster High fanfic*)

Draculaura's Tale

It was the time of the Great Depression and a humble family who lived in Transylvania managed to get along fine but were quite poor but the comfort of each other paid them richly. The mother & loving wife was named Alina. Alina was no housewife, she was a showgirl in a night club called The Swanky Digg (Author: Remember, they had secret clubs back them, watch Bugsy Malone and you'll get it) and being a showgirl and a mom back then was tough. John the father & husband was a humble man who didn't like Alina's job but understood it was to support the family. He was a truck driver, simple but paid wages. Their daughter was Laura, a beautiful little girl who loved her mom and played showgirl everyday.

"Laura honey! I'm going to volunteer at that homeless shelter, tell mommy I said good morning and make sure she wakes up to go to the charity." John called

At nine years of age, little Laura jumped into her father's arms "Bye daddy!". The two shared lightly tanned skin and dazing green/turquoise orbs. Every time John left their humble yet happy home, Laura couldn't help but bid him an adieu fit for a soldier leaving for the salty life of the navy.

That was the last Laura saw of John.

Alina heard the door close and quickly arose out of bed, she threw on a night robe and slippers (it was Winter and even opening the window could let in a noxious gust of wind that could infect her dear family) before opening the window and calling out

"John!" He turned and waved, she waved happily before blowing a kiss.

"Love you honey!"

She came down to see Laura skipping around the living room.

"Morning mommy, daddy says to remember the fun run. He really does want to raise awarness about those poor souls."

Alina smiled at the thought of her kindly husband. She began to braid Laura's soft, silky dark caramel hair.

**************************************

The mother and daughter met up with John.

Suddenly, painful memories that haunted Laura kicked in.

Gunshot.

Mother.

Crying.

Father.

Fighting.

Gangster.

Shooting.

Dagger.

Piercing.

Daddy.

Dead.

Alina bawled as she scooped up little Laura and fled as far as her two inch heels allowed her. Alina's self-weaved cloche hat fell off her head, her old fashioned dipped hem dress ripped as she ran, Laura howling on her shoulder.

The showgirl knew that gangsters wouldn't rob people who didn't look rich, John had done something bad.

Very bad. But what?

They couldn't go home, the pair were completely homeless, nobody saw Laura as she was always cloaked in Alina's midnight hand-stitched shawl.

Not a soul took them in, they roamed Transylvania as unwanted and discriminated strangers.

Until finally, they came across a magnificent yet dark and dreary castle on the edge of town.

"It's worth a shot, mama."

They took a deep breath and pulled a chain.

A tall, brooding man who although was intimidating, was very handsome.