Vampire. Dangerous. Unknowable. Seriously Creepy.

Tiny Fists Can Hurt Quite A Lot When They Hit You In The Face.

The Train Is Roaring Toward You And The Villain Is Twirling His Moustache And You're Fussing That He's Tied You To The Tracks With The Wrong Kind Of Rope.

My Books Happen. They Tend To Blast In From Nowhere, Seize Me By The Throat, And Howl 'write Me! Write Me Now!' But They Rarely Stand Still Long Enough For Me To See What And Who They Are, Before They Hurtle Away Again. And So I Spend A Lot Of Time Running After Them, Like A Thrown Rider After An Escaped Horse, Saying 'wait For Me! Wait For Me!' And Waving My Notebook In The Air.

He Laughed, Tried To Make It Into A Cough, Inhaled At Exactly The Wrong Moment, And Then Really Did Cough.

When They Finished Laughing They Were On Their Way To Being Not Just Friends, But The Dearest Of Friends, The Sort Of Friends Whose Lives Are Shaped By The Friendship.