but I am no vampire, no unearthly being.
Mother abandoned me in an asylum
said not to return until the demons went away.
They remained, clutching my heart,
squeezing so tight until my blood ran cold.
The asylum donated me to science,
who in turn donated me to a bookbinder.
He was in dire need of parchment;
my skin was favorable with dabs of sumac.
I have been touched by the gifted hands
of scientists, scholars, and curators.
The words that reside inside me
are not my own and never will be,
for what my story holds
is much too horrifying to comprehend.
the Bubonic Plague
swept its way across Europe.
The island became a quarantine
for the unwanted,
their bodies discarded
as if they were nothing more
than insects and dust.
an asylum was erected;
heads were drilled with holes
by a doctor who thought
he was an angel
offering salvation and peace.
He thought he could fly to Heaven
Sue Rose Hiss likes to dabble in poetry and short fiction. Her first book, a gothic fantasy, The Rosegiver, was published in February 2017. She's currently working on a paranormal novelette, which may or may not be completed by Winter. Sue has always been intrigued by haunted houses, ancient cemeteries, forests, gardens, and abandoned buildings.