A story is like a glimpse into another person's life. A way of recording things that have happened, things you might wish to happen in your own life, or things that might just happen in the future. A poem is a summarization of a story, and with its own unique traits. For me, both are the same. Both of these are filled with words, which are joined together creating an illusion.

Illusion. What is illusion really? Illusion can be something you want to believe is there, something your mind has drawn out for you. Sometimes, it's something that someone else wants you to see.

Now, there are many stories written about the average magician practicing some skills, maybe. And then the next moment he has a picture of a lost one, maybe. Right away, you have the urge to walk right up to the image you are seeing and to touch it. To know it's there. Seeing things can't satisfy us, so in order to believe in it we must be able to perceive the object with all our senses.

What happens when the illusion becomes so real you can touch it? That's impossible, right? Wrong. This is what we call magic.

Magic breaks all the rules of the way life runs its path. It stands up to the very face of our creator and scoffs these words, "Let's see you make a rabbit fly."

Therefore begins our story.

The darkness of the night seemed to put an even more edgy feeling to the Winnerson Household. Everything was mute other than the distant rumblings of thunder and the small strands of lightning joining its partner here and there. The house was solemn, and the members of the household wore grim expressions with shadows under their eyes and sweat dripping off their foreheads and cheeks.

No one spoke. Not that they didn't have the choice in this matter, they most definitely did. But something made them stop and hold back. Maybe it was the way the old priest hadn't spoken since his arrival, maybe it was the way Marry Winnerson had forgotten the sugar for the tea and instead left the men to a bitter taste in their mouths and extra tea left over. Whatever the reason, no one seemed to be willing to break the silence.

There had to be a reason, though, as to why no one spoke up. Something was wrong, a piece of the puzzle missing.

Emily looked around at the faces of her dear family, and could hardly recognize them in the state they were in. This grim environment seemed to make her mother at least fifteen years older. She was the only one willing to break the conversation, but she knew that was completely unheard of. Children do not speak before given permission to. She would have to wait for later.

Hours passed, and her father began pacing back and forth. The insistent thunder in the background was beginning to bother her more than it should have. Everyone seemed in their own little worlds though so they failed to notice.

She wanted to get out of this place, but she needed her father's permission to leave the room, since he was head of the household. Though there was no sign of him doing that anytime soon, and once again, she wasn't permitted to walk up to him and ask of all things.

Emily gazed out the window where the trees stirred and the clouds stirred in the darkness. She seemed to miss the moon right then, and resented the small candle light that only seemed to make the scene all the more difficult to comprehend.

Then she realized something. "THOMAS!!!" she cried out, frightening the wits out of every person in the room. Her father stormed up to her.

"Emily Winnerson! What on earth are you scheming, do you honestly want to give your father a heart attack?" he lifted his hand in aim of slapping Emily on the cheek, but then lowered it when he realized that she wasn't paying attention. "Where are your manners, young lady? Have I not taught you over and over that you cannot speak until given permission?" Stephan Winnerson turned his daughter's face over to face him, since she was looking helplessly at the wall next to her.

"Thomas… they have him, don't they? Oh no… not Thomas." Emily's eyes searched unseeing at her fathers face, small tears forming in her pale green eyes. Mr. Winnerson let go of his daughter and stepped out of the way as Mrs. Marry Winnerson came to collect her daughter in her arms.

"I'm sorry, dear child. He's lost to us now." Emily buried her face in her mother's silk dress and sobbed. The tension in the room seemed to pass as her racking sobs died down. Still, Mrs. Winnerson held back the grief she had for her son and tried her best to calm down her daughter.

The night ended with the priest confirming what Emily had said, and with a grim face he left the household. Everyone retired to bed, all but Emily who wrapped herself in a small blanket by the fire.

"Thomas…" She whispered, feeling the tears rise up behind her eyes again. "I can't believe it…"

5 years later.

"That'll be five pieces, Miss." Said a young carpenter, clearly enjoying the lady's company. Even with her strange hood covering her face and figure, straight when he heard her silk voice he fell under a deep spell. "Thank you." He said when a gloved hand dropped the five pieces of silver into his hand. "Have a good day!" he called when she turned and left."

The woman walked down the streets, quietly observing the curious stares around her.

This is basically the start to my story so yes Lol. I hope you guys liked it so far... I'm hoping it's ok! R&R, I'm going to update and continue on this once i've reached 10 reviews. Thanks! Vampire Kisses'