Can you trust me, he said. Not will you. Can you. Can I trust him? What do I have to lose?

It doesn't matter if I'm only to be gone four days, as in this case; I take six months' supply of reading material everywhere. Anyone who needs further explication of this eccentricity can find it usefully set out in the first pages of W. Somerset Maugham's story "The Book-Bag.

For anyone who is: just keep writing. Keep reading. If you are meant to be a writer, a storyteller, it'll work itself out. You just keep feeding it your energy, and giving it that crucial chance to work itself out. By reading and writing.

I smiled. "I understand now. But It doesn't matter and you needn't apologize. They have been very kind to me too. Even if we did differ a little about suitable dresses." He considered me a moment, a mischievous light creeping into his eyes, and said: "Was THAT the dress - that night you wouldn't come out of your room?" I grinned and nodded, and we both laughed.

He didn't look insane or inhuman. He did look uncooperative.

the touch of evil poisons by the idea of it. Reject the idea, and you've rejected the evil

Vampire. Dangerous. Unknowable. Seriously creepy. This one's name was Constantine. We'd met before.