Vampire’s Daughter – Chapter 1

Vampire's Daughter

Vampire’s Daughter

Chapter 1

Finally night has fallen. There’s a chill to the air, and it no longer steams in the heat trapped by the forest. The night is crisp, and the woods around me are alive with insect life. The temperature dropped quickly as the sun set behind the hills. I haven’t seen the sun in years, but I know that it has turned the sky to fire.

Yet, the cold air outside yanks me conscious. I wake to the dirt and stones I pulled over my head and body, covering my eyes. I scream and claw my way to the surface. Clenched in clay, sand and detritus: my bed for the daylight hours.

For some, it would have been a grave, more permanent in the rest that it offers. For me, its a temporary home, clawed from the floor of the forest floor just 12 hours earlier.

As I push the dirt aside and pull myself from the ground, I feel small pebbles lodged under my claws. It is a minor annoyance, like the sand in my eyes, in my ears. It gets into everything, this mixture of sand and clay. It fills me.

Over the years I have come to know the silence of different earths. From the sands of coastal beaches to the hard clays of the South. Loam in the deep forests of North, and more hard sand in the West. I am a connoisseur of the grave. Every day a new grave. Every night a new life.

Or unlife, depending upon which side of the grave you lay.

Many of my brethren choose cities in which to live, stalk and prey. They find in the abundance of food a security unmatched by the lonely forest. For them, it is the fear of starving, of being alone, that keeps them close to humanity. But they grow lazy, never knowing the real hunt.

Last night, I chased a small buck through the forest, giving and taking the distance between us as it scrambled in the brush. Reaching out with my senses, I felt its heart hunch in its chest, pounding against its ribs. A tiny deer, a spike buck, no more than sixty pounds. Yet its youth gave it speed.

Such a delicious shrill of snorts and screams: Spindly pines broke in our rush.

Somehow, I lost sight of the moon during the chase, neglected to pay attention to the night. That’s dangerous. But the thrill! I live for that feeling as my own blood races and pounds. Sometimes I forget the need for the cool, dark embrace of the dark and the calling grave.

The chase! That pounding pursuit! Let the deer get just far enough away to think it’s free, then pause and listen, stalk and scramble. Give the young buck a reason to scream again as I let him catch my scent and hear the cracker-like crunch of my bare feet in dry pine needles. The slight odor of decay I carry from past feedings alerts the deer: I am a predator.

That scent, more than anything else, drove the small deer into a frenzy. I felt it. The creature wanted to fly in every direction at once. Its muscles, shivering one against the other — each a clamor of fear and flight. In those moments, I felt the buck gather itself to plunge deeper into the forest, thrashing through brambles and ivy, tearing the brush out of the ground with its short prongs.

Each moment of his fear was delicious, an elixir sweet and heady. Though not enough to sustain me, it was enough to remind me of my own life before the night claimed me as one of its own. Honey tastes like this — thick, sweet and cloying.

But too long, too long — I nearly died for that deer. The sun found me ripping the buck apart, my claws buried deep in it’s chest, its tiny hooves flailing around my head. Its bleats were choked around a swollen tongue. Then, behind me, rising just above the trees, crackling on my skin through a canopy of leaves, shafts of light speared me. I threw my head back and howled, my fangs bared at that bastard sun.

My mouth still filled with bits of flesh and blood, I dug through the twitching carcass of the deer, then scraped away needles and sand to the gravel and clay underneath. Above me, the sun — filtered through the heavy tangle of branches of hardwood and pine mix — sliced my skin.

I ripped through roots and tossed fist-sized rocks into the forest as I dug my grave, howling in rage and ecstasy: This is the way to live! On the edge, a kill still fresh in my mouth. My own death, in any case, was only moments away — the mini not-death, not-life of the grave, or blackening to ash under the sun.

Even my own fear tastes good.

But not this clay. The earth is bitter here in the forest. Too much acid in the soil, and too much of it in my mouth. It fills me with reminders that my own permanent death is someday to come. From the earth, to the earth.

But not today. I live, because I beat the daylight. I pulled the earth over my body and face before sun’s face could ruin my own. I covered myself in in clay, sand, gravel, deer’s blood and fur, and laughed at the sun. I was alive, and that was reason enough to celebrate.


Now, the night again.

All day long, I was aware of the sun. I knew it blazed above my daylight grave. New Jersey’s Pinelands swelter in early fall, and clouds of mosquitoes and biting gnats vie with birds and reptiles for flesh and blood when a fall day reaches its zenith. It is odd, though, how I can remember the buzz and whine of insects — bloodsuckers, wasps, yellow jackets — but I can’t really place the taste of honey, other than wrapping it around that young buck’s fear. The things I remember, and those I’ve forgotten, play in my mind when I lie in my grave.

Dreams, visions and fragments of who I was before I began to make my bed in the bosom of the Mother. They are snatches of a life years gone. I miss little things of that life: the taste of honey; a day at the lake scouring the shore for driftwood; and my daughter’s wide brown eyes.

As night covers the forest, as insects scream and whine above my shallow grave disturbed, I claw free of the earth.

In my mind, my daughter’s freckled face, hovers just beyond my reach.


Holy shit!

I still have a WordPress blog. I’d forgotten all about this damn thing. Sheesh. I’m getting too spread out – too thin. I need to shrink things back a bit, but I’m not willing to let go of anything.

Oh well. Check my Web site at or my other blog at Or have a look at my Twitter –!/DianaTrees – That’s where I tend to throw folks to the zombie horde.

Well, fuck it … Time to blog and Tumbl

I’ve had a Tumblr for about six months, but I’ve not used it. Just a couple of reposts. I’ve already got a blog, a small Web site, Facebook and Twitter to keep up with. I figured no time for Tumblr.

But fuck it. It’s time to start writing again. Be it on this blog or on the Tumblr account, it’s time. So join me. Send me your thoughts, or just piss me off. It’s time to write once again.

Diana’s Tumblr

I hate you

I think I’ll kill you now,
and keep your skin and bones,
like teeth rattling in my mouth,
until you scream for me to stop

killing you now: death is never sudden.
When you stop to drag it out, drag it down
the streets, and smear asphalt with a wide red
streak: It’s you, your ribs spread to catch stones

and hold them. Now, every scream is another joy
of icy jewels rattling loose in my pumpkin grin:
Jack doesn’t know shit about how much I hate you.

(more poems written by Diana Trees)

Starting fresh

This is a new batch of #TwitterFic – flash fiction written in 140 characters or less with a Twitter name. Typically, someone dies in the jaws of a zombie. But sometimes they get away.

We told @LornaSuzuki made the best motorcycle for outrunning the zombie horde. But though it was the best, the bike was out of gas.

After finding @DebbieRochon turned to find a way out of the collapsed building. Unfortunately for Rochon, Debbie had been bitten by a zombie

We were all zombie food, if not for @theglitterlady. Thanks to her sparkling, the zombies lost interest in the rest of us.

As a zombie, Eric spent his time at the @SpitToonsSaloon picking the fur out of his teeth after devouring Bugs Bunny.

Due to its higher intellect, the @WritingsofwoRm earned it a gradual uppercasing of it’s name. Unfortunately, zombies eat woRms.

We let the @kungfupussy cat lead the charge against the zombie horde, never realizing that zombies love to eat … cats.

When the zombies found @TamelaBuhrke, she was running as fast as she could. Turns out, though, her fastest was just too slow.

Zombie Mom spread the tablecloth, Zombie Dad opened the picnic basket. Before long, @ZombieAnts devoured everything.

As a @Newswriter22, Sean’s silver tongue and thoughts were put to good use, until a tinsmith took his tongue and beat it into a spoon.

It was a zombie that took her tongue, After that, Diana chronicled the steady progression of the Zombie Apocalypse as a @Silentnovelist.

The zombie startled her; her mind went blank. She stammered: “@ChuckWesJ–” His name forgotten she ran like hell, leaving Charles behind.

He thrashed as they dragged him to the edge of the boat: “@WWSharkBaitWW?” he wubbled. “I won’t do it!” Below, the zombie shark circled.

Ian demanded that his name be prounced correctly: “@IanMacGregger,” he ennunciated crisply. The zombie gurgled and bit off Ian’s tongue.

“All right, @StephanieSaye the zombie’s name softly.” Steph, tranced and compliant, did as she was told. Outside, the zombie stirred.

“We must find @a_greenwood,” Alex said. “It’s only in nature’s purist place that we can reverse the Armageddon spell.”

With @kurtfisherman properly minced and fed to the zombie horde, she felt confident in her continuance of the pursuit of Armageddon.

No one thought @MissLizVicious until they found her tearing out the deacon’s throat. Now we know the Zombie Liz is truly Violent and Vicious

So many colors to choose from: blue and green and yellow. But when it came down to truth and desire, I knew I had to have @RubyViolence.

“Tiny squirrel, forest clown: Why is @XanderGrimm?” Chittering evil rodent bushy-tail reply: “Hollowed his belly to store winter’s nut meat”

Though Grimoires are known as powerful tomes, it’s the rare @VEscritoire (truly bound in human skin) that summons the Zombie Apocalypse.

Sure, Donny had another sister. But he was afraid to talk about her, because he thought @ShaetanDarko might be a demon.

For zombies, Love Growls, but Bites are Taboo, hence the name of Jugga’s underground club for the undead – @JuggaLGBT

“I don’t know @Peter_Germany seems like a long way to go to escape the Zombie Apocalypse.” But in reality, there was no escape for Peter.

Sheilagh was known among the zombies as @SweetSheil, less for her temperment and more for the flavor of her flesh.

When he found @Leo_Godin thought him a sparkly vampire. “Son of a bitch!” Godin exclaimed, and staked Leo on the spot.

We knew Ian was evil, but when we found his account of #TheGirlattheEndoftheWorld in the arms of a zombie, we knew he was a @writebastard.

When @RonanJJBurke jumped through the window to what he thought was safety, it was the Double J that got the zombie’s attention.

The growling author, @Literarygrrrl, joined her voice to Dark Lord @Daezarkian’s and together wove the spell of the Zombie Apocalypse.

As an author, it was Robin’s habit to growl when she wrote, even after she was taken by vampires. That’s why she’s called @VampWriterGRRL.

After things got @DiceyGrenor pulled out a .45 to deal with zombies. When Grenor ran out of bullets, she was happy Diana still had her sword

When things got @DiceyGrenor took to her heels. Unfortunately for Grenor, these were Rage Zombies – quick, vicious and hungry.

“The zombies are at the door! This is your call to @ActionChick!” But Katrina was too busy tweeting to run and ended up as part of the horde

Oddly enough, it was PB&Js that carried the zombie virus, and that’s why Diane was safe with her @PBKup sandwiches – Peanut Butter & Ketchup

After tracking @virginiaSK for miles, SK found herself in the Shenandoah Valley, a vast wilderness teeming with starving zombies.

When he found @gina_penn was sure that everything would be all right. But Penn didn’t realize that Gina had joined the Zombie horde.

“Apostrophes in names are an @abomination_M’Brown,” the priest proclaimed. But as a zombie, M’Brown didn’t care what the priest thought.

“It’s the @philo_diamond that will save us!” Philip shouted. Unfortunately, the diamond lay at the center of the Zombie camp.

Anyone with enough sense can fight one zombie. But to take on the entire horde, you’ll need #follow a woman who was @Born_Fighting.

While we knew the Dgn in @AllanDouglasDgn’s name was short for his dungeon, we had no idea that he kept zombies within the crumbling walls.

When Jim’s publisher told him to @WriteTheFantasy, not even Jim knew that his tale of a Zombie Apocalypse would come true.

Virginia earned the name Silent Killer, or @virginiaSK for short, after she cut a quiet path though zombies to retrieve the @philo_diamond.

It was the voices in @NicoleSteinhaus’s mind that drove her mad. But’s that’s when she did her best writing.

When @Lola_Hexx’d me, I had no idea that it was a gift: I would spend eternity with a Lovely Hell Being, instead of being eaten by zombies.

When he saw @MichelleIBrooks, believed all was right with the world. Unfortunately for Brooks, Michelle had been savaged by the zombie horde

He was casual when he said, “@HayaAnis99,” little realizing that she was a zombie, and he had attracted her attention.

We thought to overcome the @Inexpugnable_50 zombies, we need kill only 49 of them. Unfortunately, the last was the leader.

“Damnit, @thatstings!” Peanut didn’t know it then, but the pain of the zombie bite was the least of his worries.

The first 32 didn’t survive the werewolf’s bite. When Kim lived, we called her @barkergirl33.

“I @MissHaunted houses.” I turned to Lorraine. “They were such a delight, but the zombies have ended that.”

I was looking for powerful words – a spell to stop the zombie horde. I found the words, but unfortunately couldn’t pronouce @Teinetoa4lyphe

Vampire Swiftie thought itself well-hidden with the name @Pritpal20Kaur. But while humans couldn’t decipher the code, zombies found her out.

“I @MissHaunted houses,” Ireland said. “Since the Zombie Apocalypse, all the ghosts have gone, and we’re left with rotting corpses.”

Taylor turned and yelled: “@ChikBQuick!” But Kristi was preoccupied with a lovely sunset and failed to outrun the zombie horde.

The precedent had been set when the king appointed both a wine and food taster. Still, the idea of a @zombietaster was unsettling for most.

“Quit messing with that @GothicGourdGirl, and help us fight the zombies!” But Stacy was enraptured by the gourd and devoured by the zombies.

The zombie was salivating when he found @2girlsonabench. Unfortunately for the zombie, the girls were ninjas.

The zombie had no idea that she was @Born_Fighting, and that’s why he got his ass kicked.

When @Lola_Hexx’d the zombie horde, they turned as one to devour the sparkly vampires. And all was right with the world. (the end)

Finding the bites covering @Leo_Godin chose wisely to run like hell. Unfortunately, Rage Zombies are quick, and Godin died in Leo’s jaws.

C.C. was so engrossed in reading @gastarbooks that she completely missed the zombie horde sneaking behind her.

Seeing the vampire tear into @Donna_Carrick fled the room. Unfortunately, the door Carrick chose lead to the zombie horde.

As a vampire, Caroline was a @FangedBeauty. But when she drank the blood of a demon, her beauty turned ferocious.

We found that when @laurajeanwrites, it’s best to keep our distance, as she likes to practice her murders prior to committing to paper.

After the zombie horde passed through, there was a @Phungus_Amongus. We made Dennis clean it up, and he snuck it into the family soup.

Most of the compound thought @NickSilly for his antics. But he got even one night when he opened the gate and zombies came crashing through.

When I noticed the @syco_punk drooling over my avi, I cut him open and fed him to the zombies. 😉

After running for @MylesGregory thought himself safe from the zombies. Unfortunately for Gregory, Rage Zombies never tire.