Yesteryear Fiction

The Photograph
By Madeline Dyer


I’m sitting here, crying. The photo of us in my hands. The photo where we look happy; we were together then. We were both human. I still am.

So much has changed. You couldn’t change it back even if you tried. Which you won’t. Not now you’re a monster. A monster who left me. I’m the one who’s alone. You’re surrounded by people, new people who love and care for you, people like you. Not me, I’m completely alone. I’m the mad girl. The girl everyone avoids and whispers about.

Right now I hate you, though I still love you more. Or maybe it’s equal. I’ll never know. And you’ll never be with me to find out.

In this picture you’re wearing the green jacket I bought you for Christmas. Remember that Christmas? It was the one where you proposed to me. You said we’d be together for ever and ever. You lied.

Your skin was pale, even then. Mine’s darker. You have your arm around me, cuddling me, holding onto me. Had the thoughts of what you were going to do even crossed your mind then? You look happy, but looks can be deceptive.

I wasn’t lonely then, but I am now. Before you left we had all our friends, family. At first they were nice to me, but I drifted away. They don’t socialise with me any more, not since I told them what you were now. They think I’m messed up, sick.

I still look for you. I beg you to come and see me. I know you’ve changed, but I just want to see you. I bet your clothes are all crumpled, you never were very good with the iron. I always ironed your clothes for you after you dropped it and burn a hole in the carpet.

I’m staring at you. Staring at us. I look foolish and naive. You look possessive of me. Maybe you felt like you had power over me? You always loved power. See? There it is in your eyes. Just a glint of it.

You selfish, selfish beast. You chose that pathway based on your opinions, your needs and your thoughts only. You didn’t spare any thoughts to those around you, those who love you dearly. You chose the easy way out. But I will hunt you down. Mark my words. I will.

Becoming a vampire is never the right decision.


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I live on a farm in Devon, England, and have a strong love for mythology and folklore; this in particular inspired me to start writing fantasy as you can create magical new worlds where anything can happen. I am currently working on a young adult fantasy novel.