A pretty girl of 13 was sitting alone on her bed staring at her alarm clock, 11:55pm. "Five more minutes," Fala thought to herself. She would be a teenager, not a little kid anymore. Three minutes later, an alien wind started right outside the window she had been looking out of. Bats swooped down into view and landed on her window ceil. Fala clutched the blanket tighter around her, more out of fear than cold. Something fell outside her door. Her head whipped around in alarm. She got up, put on her bathrobe, and opened the door cautiously.

Nothing was there, but the clock on the wall down the hall had fallen off, breaking the timepiece. Fala shuddered and went back into her room, leaving the door open. As she was walking back in, she noticed strange, small black shapes hovering in the air inside her bedroom. Her nerves jolted as her door behind her shut with a loud crack. The shapes came into focus in Fala's sharp, scared, blue eyes. The bats.

The beeping alarm was the only noise in her house. She glanced over at it. 12:00pm, the exact hour into which Fala had been born. Fala turned her head ever so slightly to look at the bat. But now it was materializing into something, a woman.

The woman had unforgiving and merciless black eyes, and long black flowing robes. "Hello child, " said the woman coldly. Her voice penetrated Fala's mind. The woman called Zather stepped closer to her and extended a long, white hand and cradled the back of Fala's head. She bent her head low to Fala's neck. Fala tensed as she felt the woman's cold breath along the pulsating vein in her throat. Zather flashed her sharp white fangs and sunk them deep into the vein. Fala gasped and struggled for air and to stay awake and fight, for conciseness was slowly slipping away from her.

Zather pulled out of Fala's neck awhile later and dropped her on her bedroom floor. She started dematerializing into bats and passed with ease through the bedroom window. Fala lay cold and frightened on the floor. Her bedroom was spinning and her head and neck were pounding painfully. She grabbed a blanket and wrapped it tight around her but nothing could help the cold, empty feeling surrounding her. She couldn't breath, but didn't exactly need to. She didn't feel dead, she was still alive, but she no longer felt the warm blood traveling though her veins nor the comforting thump of her heart.

She lay there for hours it seemed like, frozen with cold and fear. Finally, she started the slow process of standing up. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. It was there, but it was misty and unclear. Her once clear blue eyes had turned the same frightening black as Zather's. From the stories she read, and the legends children told around the campfire, she had an idea of what she was. A vampire.