The Solstice family were an odd bunch; murder, witchcraft, and funerals were integral parts of their everyday life. Elvira Solstice was no exception. Her parents married out of pure loathing, and spent their lives slipping poison into each other's f...
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There was a full moon that night, it bathed the town in a shimmering silver light that washed away most of it's colour. Aurora and I were on the roof, laying on beach chairs and holding 'tanning' reflectors on our chests to help the moonlight hit our faces at a better angle. It was the perfect night for moonbathing.
"You should do this more often, sister, you have had far too much colour in your cheeks of late." Aurora scolded. It was easy for her to judge, she had always been the paler of us. She almost looked translucent at times.
"Yes, yes, I know. I fear I may be ill. There is no other reason for it." I sighed, adjusting the reflector until I could see the moon on its silvery surface. It was cold tonight, and since it was the only time we allowed ourselves to wear bikini's, the night air started to turn my skin a splotchy blue. "I have not gone out in the daylight without an umbrella, and even then I have been wearing five layers of sunscreen."
"Have you been using the leeches like I taught you?"
"Oh, sister...that is a myth. Leeches do not really sap the pigment from your skin," I didn't actually know if it was true or not, but I was never fond of leeches nor the idea of sleeping with them on my face like Aurora did every night. It was recorded by our ancestor, Macabre Solstice, that one in every thousandth leech was actually a vampire. That number may have dwindled since the 18th century, but I wasn't willing to take that chance. As wonderful as having the blood drained out of me sounded, I still wanted to have my Death Day...and Vampires were practically immortal.
"They do, I swear it!" Aurora huffed indignantly. "You need only look at me to see it's effects."
Well, she did look like a week old corpse which, in our family, was the epitome of grace and beauty. We were constantly striving towards that lack of pigment and undertone; to look as close to a ghost as any living person could. A spark of jealousy arose in my chest, as it always had when compared to my morgue-ready sister, but then I thought of Sabra. She was surely the most beautiful woman to have ever existed, and yet she did not look dead at all. In fact, she looked very much alive. Perhaps it was not so bad to have a little bit of blood still colouring my cheeks...
"Oh, look there!" Aurora suddenly exclaimed. She was pointing down onto the sidewalk directly in front of their castle where a streetlight illuminated an old, beige sedan.
A figure stumbled out of the driver's set, a ski mask pulled tightly over their face with two uneven holes cut into the fabric for their eyes. They turned their head left, right, then left again looking for signs of any witnesses (the poor dear failed to look up or they certainly would have seen us moonbathing on the roof). The trunk popped open and, with a massive heave, the figure pulled out a dead body. They struggled with it for a few seconds; it's limp arms flailing about as the killer tried to get a better grip, head lolling around on its shoulders. It almost looked like they were dancing.
