You see a little thirteen-year-old girl in the corner of this cafe. While you slip your drink, you spot the flash of fangs from her mouth, and the hint of bloodlust in her eyes. Is that really just a thirteen-year-old girl....? Short Story entry for Lisa McMann's NYC Writing Contest.
Once the thorns are sewn and the acid is dripped, you are our property.
If you try to remove the thorns, the Warbler birds will come.
Oh, the birds, the birds.