• 'Where was he? Where did he live now?' Kyran thought, wandering the streets aimlessly. She had no clue where Laura lived, so that was useless. She kicked a pebble and watched it bounce away.

    "LAURA!" A voice screamed from a passing car. Kyran jumped, shocked. A black dented car pulled over to the side of the road.

    "Girl, get in." A female with long spiked black hair yelled from out of the window. Kyran didn't know how.

    Was she allowed? This strange automobile was nothing like the horse drawn carridges she was used to. Kyran shook her head. Best not act odd.

    She grabbed the car door handle, and tried not to look surprised when the door swung open. She slid into the front seat and closed the door behind her. The girl was yelling at her.

    Kyran didn't make eye contact, just stared out the window. Off in the distance, she could see what was the remains of an old house.

    Or. . .barn. Kyran perked up, gazing hungerily out the window. Was that the place? A terrifying thrill of adrenaline woke her up from a daze.

    Why not examin it? She had nothing to lose. Easily she pushed the door open again and started running through backyards and bushes. The car honked at her, but she could care less.

    Kyran quickly jumped the last fence, and a skinny shallow forest with sharp branches was what she plowed through. Out of the hazy night, a memory came back.

    The little girl claws the stone walkway, cutting her hands and tearing out her ring finger nail.

    The man laughs even harder, seemingly drunker then before. He throws the girl into the barn.

    It startles a horse tied to a post. The girl unfortunately falls underneath the horse, and it rears up, sharp hooves coming down much too fast. . .

    Kyran gasped, holding onto a pine branch. She plucked up the nerve to keep running, until the last branch disappeared from view.

    The barn was there. Fallen, crumbling, but it was there. The roof had long ago caved in. The smaller house was in ashes, only the bricks had lived. Kyran froze, saddened by the sight of her old home.

    A weary old man, grumbling crankily, moved around in the shadows. Kyran watched with growing rage. That man had the courage to live on, in whatever humanly way possible, into the 20th century.

    He was old beyond comparison. He gasped and staggered back when Kyran got close enough for him to see.

    The old man quickly recovered. "Hello pretty girlie, what are you doing here?" He whispered huskily, leaning innocently on a wooden cane. Kyran scowled so hard her eyes glittered.

    "How many?" She snarled. The old man almost fell off his cane.

    "How many what girl?" He whispered sweetly. Kyran growled angerily.

    "How many girls have you killed? Oh, be honest. I know you." Kyran said, not surprised to see the old man crumple to the ground.

    He grinned up at her though, seemingly happy and carefree. "I have killed so many, I don't bother counting anymore, Kyran." He sang out gleefully.

    Kyran, shocked, took a step back. The old man laughed manically.

    "You don't know that every girl I kill, her youth and soul transfer into my own soul!" He yelled, laughing so hard he could only lay on the ground. Kyran was beyond rage and felt only numb.

    The old man suddenly looked up at her hungerily.

    "But. . .I've been needing a new soul. As angry as you are Kyran, that body isn't yours. It has a fresh soul." He said, reaching out for her with an old wrinkled hand.

    His cane lashed out from nowhere, knocking Kyran off her feet. She fell down, watching the old man crawl like a snake at her, mouth opened and sharp teeth waiting.

    Kyran looked discustedly at him. She snarled so quietly, so only he could hear.

    "I won't die. Not again." She reached out and grabbed the cane. She yanked the old man forward and only touched him lightly on the head.

    He screamed and howled into the night, like a wild animal. He writhed backwards, and the ground split open to reveal red and orange flames which wrapped around him like chains the color of hot coals.

    He screaming hit a new pitch. Then, slowly the flames curved into a spiked tongue, and slithered around him like a rope. With one quick slurp, the tongue flicked back down into the ground, carrying the man with him.

    Kyran watched with satisfaction. The ground was as it was before, and somewhere far off, crickets chirped again.

    She just sat on the ground, fleetingly feeling sorry. She pushed herself off the ground and dusted off dirt and twigs.

    "You shall always rot. Wherever you are." She hissed at the ground. Silently, she thought, 'Only two.'

    Filled with spite, she added as an afterthought, "Father." And spit on the ground where he had fallen.

    She walked away, holding a bloodred cane tightly clutched beneath her fingers.