The sky was darkest blue, the stars were diamonds dotting the horizon. The moon, her face round and full, pale yellow in pleasure, leaned down to stick her tongue in my ear and whisper. "Beloved child, there is something you must do."

She laid out a path before me, marked with blood red and heady as roses. I skipped nimble as a ballerina along the road, following her instructions, following his scent. I ended up in front of a house, painted like a robin's egg, perfect as a doll house. I threw a rock at the one I knew to be his window, but the glass was modern, wouldn't shatter.

"Little boy, little boy," I called, stomping my foot when there was no answer. I wanted to use a hairpin to pop open the locked door. I wanted to rush to his side, reassure him he was no longer alone. But I didn't have an invitation. The night wind soothed me, my moon goddess kissed my cheek and together we developed a plan.

It was winter, and cold for California. My dress was thin, hung limply off my creamy shoulders. I mussed my hair, began to shiver, and rang the door bell. A nasty woman answered, wrapped in a hideous gray bathrobe, her eyes were as flat and accusing as a rodent's. I hated her, I hated that she thought she had a claim on my boy.

"Please miss," I mewled. "It's so chilly outside. My lover left me on the road, I walked this far, but I can't go on any longer. May I please use your telephone?"

She looked me over, suspicious, coughed up a mouthful of phlegm before deciding. "I suppose it's alright," she spat out. "Come in."

I was through the door quick as a breeze. She tasted bitter like bleach and cleaning products. Her husband came rushing down the stairs at the sound of her squeaky scream. He was as fat and satisfying as the white blubber that clings to a pork chop.

I went to my boy's room. He was standing, waiting for me. He looked confused. "Don't worry," I cooed. "Everything will make sense soon. They called you the Destroyer."

"Sounds like something out of a comic book," he whispered. "Who are you? Am I dreaming?"

"What are dreams?" I replied as I edged closer to him. "Your whole existence is dreams, Stephen-Who-Used-To-Be-Connor. Come closer." I sunk my fangs into his neck, I fed him my own essence, I brought the truth back to him through sex and blood, incestuous beauty.

"I love you, little one. My brother." We lay sated on his bedroom floor, the corpses of his false family rotting beneath us. "Let us go find Daddy."