October 31, 2005
Eyes, the color of the darkest trees found hidden in the depths of a long forgotten forest sat illuminated by the light of a much loved laptop. These eyes were framed by tousled dark red hair, the color of freshly drawn blood, and adorned the face of a woman that was full of frustration as her slender fingers hovered over the worn keyboard waiting with eagerness to fill the empty page before her. Rolling her head in hopes of popping her stiff neck, Ilaria chewed on the inside of her lip, waiting for the words to come to her. She had less than five hours to finish the next days horoscopes and send them to her Editor for approval, and the inspiration just wasn't there. Usually she had no problem pulling from the spiritual side of herself, but lately she had felt plugged. The nightmares had been worse the past week and a half; fire consumed her every thought and her journals were full of confusion, scattered notes taken while struggling to breath as imaginary smoke filled her lungs. Being the last in an ancient line of Banshee's was not all it was cracked up to be…