This is my first fanfic. I am dedicating it to the wonderful Katherine Kuran, because she is the reason I wrote this story in the first place, and has been my inspiration for a lot of the ideas in here. The next chapter should be longer. Summaries are very hard. I do not like them, Sam I am.

You hear people all the time saying they wish they were more like the wind: fast, free, and careless. Controversially, people complain about their loneliness or the dislike others feel for them. These are also traits of the wind. People dislike the biting cold wind often brings, and the wind, I'd imagine, is quite alone. I would think being the wind would only be glorious at those times when people stand and laugh, their arms spread wide like they are hoping to be carried into the air, and the wind dances through their hair and plays with the grass at their feet. I've always loved standing up to the wind, and it's this beautiful picture that drifts through my dreams.

I open my eyes reluctantly, more than willing to stay in the lush meadows of my sub conscience. The moon outside my window is full, and its slight glow illuminates a sliver of the floor through thick white curtains. I can just make out the sleeping figure in the bed across from mine. Rima, my older sister, her breathing deep and calm, lies in that bed. I sigh and roll away from her; my perfect sister. Her eyes shine with an innocent beauty; her features are soft and fair. She looks like a porcelain doll with her strawberry blonde hair up in ribbons.

I'm feeling more awake now, and a little bit hungry. I reach out a pale hand for the container on my bedside table and pull out a blood tablet. They aren't quite as satisfying as fresh blood, but they dull my craving and quiet my stomach.

Rima murmurs in her sleep and shifts. I stiffen despite myself. I don't want to wake her; Dad would be upset. I pull my blankets over my head and wait in silence for the night to pull Rima out of her slumber. I've always wished I were more like Rima. She is always a little bit better than me, her grades are a fraction of a point higher, and she has always been prettier than me, but what wrenches my heart most is how much my parents love her. Dad always calls her his little angel, giving her hugs and smiling that joyous smile which he reserves solely for her, filled with warmth, love, and kindness. Mum still loves to brush Rima's beautiful long hair, whispering praises to her. Rima really does look like a doll in her dresses. She could be a model; Mum is always reminding us.

I hear Rima stirring through the darkness and lower the blankets from over my head. I remember a time when I was younger, I used to follow my sister everywhere she went, trying to be like her, trying to make her notice me. Her calm indifference to my presence is what ended my admiration for her. I had long hoped to be admired by her in turn, and I probably still do.

I admit it. I'm terribly jealous of Rima.

I yawn enormously, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. Rima's sitting up now, her clear blue eyes fixed straight ahead. Rima usually takes a moment to fully awaken, and her "Good Morning" is groggy. My greeting is cold and half hearted. I hadn't meant to let my jealousy creep through my words, but I've never been able to tuck my feelings away like Rima can. My sister doesn't seem to notice, but it's hard to tell with her, she wouldn't say anything either way. I draw the curtains from our large bay window, letting the moon's rays leak onto the dark floor, banishing the darkness into shadows, now crouching in wait under the beds and dressers. Rima leaves the room, her ribbons undone and falling loosely across her back.

I hear the lock click on our shared en suite bathroom and Rimas' shuffling on the other side of the door. I lift my night robe over my messy hair and pull on a blue and black striped shirt, succeeding in ruffling my hair even more. I drag a brush through the thick locks in earnest before pulling on a pair of sweat pants. I need to be slightly presentable before I head downstairs.

My parents are either out, or still sleeping. Whichever it is, they aren't in the main hall when I peer over the hall railing. I run my hands along the banister, feeling its smooth texture and examining the pearly white marble that makes up most of our house. It's cold on my bare skin, a shock from the warmth of my soft bed. I slide down the stairs, my socks slipping away slowly. I don't feel any need to rush; I have nothing planned for tonight.

I open the main door, steeling a glance at the moon. It's so much more beautiful without the shield of our windows' thick glass. I sigh and step out into the night, running a hand through my long hair, my gaze fixed at the sky. The moon is encircled with many pinpricks of light and I reach out a hand as though to pull them out of sky. The stars are reflected on the smooth surface of the fountain outside our house, its marbled exterior in sharp relief against the dark lawns of our estate. I sit at the fountains side, gliding a hand through the water. My touch ripples the surface, making the sky's reflection quiver and dance on the water's surface.

I lose track of the time sitting on the fountains edge, my hands playing with the pure water, letting it slide through my fingers. I find myself wishing every aspect of life were this serene, but I eventually slip back through the door of the mansion and, in turn, drag myself back into reality.

My sister is gliding down the stairs, in a beautiful black and white dress and black stockings. Her hair is tied in black bows, their ends falling in with her light hair. More bows decorate her dress, and she holds a rose coloured parasol in her dainty fingers, twirling it slightly and smiling.

"Sora," She says in her soft voice, eyes travelling over my hap hazard attire. "You are being allowed to attend tonight's ball. You should wear something more formal, I think." She drifts past me into a side room, heeled shoes tapping the marble rhythmically.

I watch her go, feeling immense joy flood my body. Vampires fourteen years of age and older were permitted to attend these glamorous parties, and I had always been made to stay home, since I had only turned fourteen the previous month. When the balls were held in our own ball room, I would stay in my room and listen to the muffled chatter drifting through the door, longing for the day I would attend a ball with my sister and the other Vampire children who were old enough.

I laugh under my breath as I hurtle up the stairs, ready to take out the dress I had prepared so long ago, the banister's marble surface feeling suddenly warm with my excitement. I feel as though the world had just opened itself to me, presenting numerous opportunities and experiences, my views of life became suddenly very optimistic. My jealousies for Rima are forgotten along with my wishes for a more serene world. Now, images of dancing and socializing seemed to make up my views of utopia. I feel air twist through my hair as I run to my room.

I twirl, letting the wind I created swirl around me. The wind, I presume, is in for a glorious evening, twisting around all the dancers and being born through their laughter, lifting elite's hair in great swirls, ruffling the fabric of beautiful dresses.

This is the part were you review. Love it? Hate it? I want to know, either way!