Vampiregirl150

Her hair had always been red and stringy and straight as a bone; she looked like a rag doll with yarn pasted poorly to her head, but she never complained. Though she'd been made, not born, and was now a servant to the man who made her, she couldn't complain. Not as long as she could see him every day. He was king, king of a great land with adoring subjects. He ruled well and had a kind manner about him, despite his yearly profession as a nightmare. No, he'd never been a nightmare to her. He was perfection, absolute perfection. And he spoke to her. Her greatest joy was that he knew who she was, knew her name and her face by heart. Not only