The rolling hills of rural Maryland cast long shadows across the fields in the soft glow of the evening light. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming wildflowers, a fragrance that danced around the tiny figure darting between the rows of corn.

A child, no older than ten, moved swiftly, her pale skin contrasting sharply against the vibrant green.

Her name was Amy, and she was not just any child; she was a vampire, lost and searching. A girl, whom her mother called her imaginary friend, had bitten her in these very fields as they stretched their bodies flat among the corn, making corn angels.

“Mom! Where are you?” Amy called, her voice echoing in the stillness.

The crows cawed their good nights, and the crickets responded with their evening song, but her mother did not answer. A flutter of panic twisted in her chest. She had been alone for too long.

As she ventured into the woods at the cornfield’s edge, memories of her mother flooded her mind. The soft lullabies, the warmth of her embrace, and the sweet scent of her hair haunted her thoughts.

“I need her,” Amy murmured, her small hands clenching into fists.

After what seemed like forever, she found herself in a clearing illuminated by the fading sunlight.

There, standing by an ancient oak, was a figure she recognized instantly. Her heart raced. It was her mother, Sarah, with her long, wavy hair cascading like an amber river. She looked as beautiful as Amy remembered, though time had etched worry lines on her face.

“Mom!” Amy said, stepping forward.

Her instincts surged within her, a primal urge she had fought against for so long. Her hunger extended beyond food; she longed for her mother’s familiar comfort.

Sarah turned, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Amy?” she said, her voice exhaled in a breath. “Is that you?”

Amy hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She stepped closer; the warmth radiating from her mother drawing her in. That warmth ignited a sharp hunger. The familiar thirst roared to life, and Amy’s fangs tingled with anticipation.

“I missed you so much,” she said, the words laced with longing and desperation.

“I thought I lost you,” Sarah said, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’ve searched everywhere.”

The conflicting emotions churned within Amy. She wanted to throw herself into her mother’s arms, to revel in the safety she felt as a child. She felt the hunger and the dark lure of her power.

“Mom, I—I need you with me. Forever,” Amy said, her voice trembling.

“Amy, please,” Sarah said, sensing something was off. “What’s happened to you?”

“I can’t be alone anymore!” Amy cried, the desperation spilling over. “I just want you back!”

At that moment, Amy made her choice. She lunged forward, her fangs grazing her mother’s neck. Time slowed as she felt the rich and inviting warmth of her mother’s blood.

Sarah caught and held her, then gasped, shock mingling with confusion.

“Amy, no!” she managed, but it was too late.

The bond of blood was strong, and Amy’s desire overpowered her instinct to resist. She bit down, the sweetness of it flooding her senses, wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

As Amy cradled her mother’s frail form, she felt the warmth seeping away, the once vibrant pulse slowing beneath her fingertips. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the edges of her vision as her heart tightened like a fist in her chest.

Yet, the familiar scent of her mother’s hair wrapped around her like a beloved blanket, drawing her deeper into a haze of comfort. A fierce, conflicting desire surged within her, momentarily drowning out the whispers of guilt that clawed at her mind, leaving her both anchored and adrift in a storm of emotions.

With Sarah’s strength failing, Amy embraced her, feeling the warmth leave her mother’s body as they crumpled onto the mossy floor. Panic surged through her, a suffocating wave of realization. The horrifying reality of her actions shattered her desire to reunite with her mother and feel complete.

“Mom, please!” she said, shaking her gently, desperate for a sign of life. Only silence answered.

In her anguish, Amy felt the darkness creeping in, the isolation that had defined her existence returning with a vengeance. She believed biting her mother would ease her loneliness, but it only intensified her isolation.

Her refuge—the fields and surrounding woods—was now a prison. The weight of her actions pressed down on her. She placed her mother beside a huge root and sank to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks, mingling with the soil beneath her.

Just then, a soft breeze rustled the leaves above as if nature itself were mourning with her. Amy’s gaze lifted skyward; twinkling stars resembled distant memories.

She needed to leave, escape the clinging guilt. With a heavy heart, she cradled her mother’s lifeless form one last time, a mixture of grief and determination swelling within her. Amy resolved to seek others like her who could teach her control so she would never again feel so utterly alone.

With one last look at the clearing that had witnessed her joy and tragedy, Amy turned away, ready to face the uncertain path ahead, carrying the weight of her mother’s love and the shadow of her choice.

Author's Note

So, I have a lot to unpack here, but I’ll only touch on a few things.

I wrote a few posts ago about being unable to write horror. That still stands, as I don’t firmly put this story in that genre.

Two weeks ago, this story popped into my mind without a reference point (or so I thought). It clamored in my head, demanding I write the words.

I now believe the recent passing of my mother-in-law and my mother’s loss eleven years ago inspired me to tell this story of a young vampiress searching for her mother. At night, when the settling house was the only sound, memories of them brought sadness, yes, but also comfort, revealing the layers of love and loss I felt. Writing this story became my way of connecting with the mothers I wish were still in my life.

Grief isn't linear; it ebbs and flows, intertwining sorrow, anger, and guilt. Initially, their absence consumed me, but I eventually recognized that my grief reflects the love we shared. I confronted the void through rituals—planting flowers they loved, surrounding myself with memories, and conversing with them in my thoughts. Writing became my release and tribute, allowing their essence to thrive.

As I created the young vampiress’s journey, I saw my longing mirrored in her search—an exploration of love that persists beyond death. This story embraces the grieving process as a step toward healing, reminding me that grief signifies strength and deep love.

In seeking my mothers, I recognize their memory shapes my life and art. The young vampiress’s quest illustrates that every step taken in pursuit of understanding is evidence of enduring love, lighting the way through the darkest nights.

Upcoming…

• A poem about self-love and acceptance:

  Otherness, 14 June 2025

Thanks very much for reading, subscribing, and sharing the stories, poetry, and essays in this space. If you like a story, poem, or essay, please click on the heart. Also if you are so moved, please leave a comment.

Refer a friend