The Lone Ranger Of Vampires.

...and Again She Wished For Sherwood, And The Dappled Roof Of Leaves That Never Weighed Upon Her. She Pulled Her Scarf Closer Around Her And Thought, I Would Rather Live In A Hut In The Woods; A Hut Like The One Of My First Memories, With A Clean-swept Dirt Floor, And A Brown-eyed Boy Watching Me From Behind His Mother's Skirts As I Watched Him From Behind Mine.

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.

So, What Do You Do When You Know You Have Two Days To Live? Eat An Entire Bitter Chocolate Death Cake All By Myself. Reread My Favorite Novel. Buy Eight Dozen Roses From The Best Florist In Town--the Super Expensive Ones, The Ones That Smell Like Roses Rather Than Merely Looking Like Them--and Put Them All Over My Apartment. Take A Good Long Look At Everyone I Love.

I Don't Believe In Fate," She Said At Last. "but I Do Believe In...loopholes. I Think A Lot Of What Keeps The World Going Is The Result Of Accidents — Happy Or Otherwise — And Taking Advantage Of These.

One Of The Biggest, And Possibly The Biggest, Obstacle To Becoming A Writer... Is Learning To Live With The Fact That The Wonderful Story In Your Head Is Infinitely Better, Truer, More Moving, More Fascinating, More Perceptive, Than Anything You're Going To Manage To Get Down On Paper.