The Lillian

By Cynthia D. Witherspoon

Everyone knows the story. Yet, you will know the history behind it.

Charlotte Kingston knew who she wanted to be. The popular girl. The daughter every parent wanted and every mother wanted their son to date.

Yet, when Charlotte turned to magic to make her wish come true, she initiated a tragedy that would set her on a path of her own making. She enrolled in college with no hope of becoming the girl she wanted to be.

Until the Lillian found her.

As their secret past as vampires unfolds, will Charlotte become one of them to fulfill her wish of perfection? Or will she accept herself for who she was born to be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia D. Witherspoon
• Release date: Dec 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463210291

Cynthia D. Witherspoon

Cynthia D. Witherspoon is an award winning writer of Southern Gothic, Paranormal Romance, and Urban Fantasy. She has been published in numerous anthologies since 2009. Her work has appeared in several award winning collections including Dark Tales of Ancient Civilizations (2012) and Pellucid Lunacy (2010).

Book preview

The Daughters of Bathory: Volume 1

The Lillian

Cynthia D. Witherspoon

Story ©copyright Cynthia D. Witherspoon 2015

Cover art: Rayana by Fillpe Rivelll; edited for cover use.

Creative Commons.

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Other Books by the Author

The Oracle Series

Volume One: The Sibyl is available for free through Google Play, Kobo, and Barnes and Noble.com!

The Oracle Series: The Sibyl

Every Ghost Has A Story.

I was going to find that out the hard way. I should have known the second Apollo's sixth Sibyl tricked me into taking her place that my life was going to be hell after that.

It was easier to convince myself I'd gone crazy. Hell, I'd signed up to be on television. That was the first clue my head was screwed up. The second?

When I started seeing ghosts in the mirrors. Spirits who told me their horrible tales. Or like the one I faced on my first episode who slit my damn throat. Just as hers had been.

For better or worse, I was now a messenger of the dead thanks to a greek god I couldn't believe actually existed. I had two choices. Succeed or relinquish this crazy life to someone else.

And in the process, lose my own.

Includes bonus anthology Grave Messages: Season One!

Prologue

I knew what I wanted. I knew who I wanted to be. And by God, I had done everything that was expected of me. I excelled in my classes. I bought every magazine and study every hairstyle that was the trend. But it wasn’t enough.

Nothing I did was ever enough.

I clutched the book close to my chest. It was almost time. I would be good enough. I would fit in and be the type of girl I had idolized since I was ten. Thin. Pretty. Popular. You know. The basics that had been drilled into my head from the moment I laid my eyes on my first Barbie doll.

I dropped the book on the table I had knelt in front of to make sure I had all the ingredients required. White and pink candles for beauty. Cinnamon for success. A piece of parchment and a red pen. A mirror to see my own transformation. The words I needed to say to make my dreams come true.

Magick. Hope. These were two halves of a whole according to the book I'd found three days before. I brushed my hand over the cover with a smile. Someone had left it out on a table at the library downtown. I stumbled on it by accident.

Maybe. Or maybe it was fate. Perhaps this was the key to my happiness. Perhaps this would give me the strength to be who I wanted to be.

I heard the clock downstairs chime twice. It was time.

I was surprised to find my hands were shaking when I lifted the lighter to the candle closest to me. It took a while, but I finally got them lit. Five candles. Five flames. Five sparks to start my life over.

Well, that’s done. I took a breath. Time to do some magick, Charlie.

No. Not Charlie. I hated that nickname with a passion. Charlotte. That’s who I was. Glamorous. Gorgeous. Elegant. I jerked open the book to the page I needed. The black words seemed to glow beneath the candlelight as I traced my fingers over the letters. Another deep breath and I began to read.

Goddess of old, hear my plea. Make me as beautiful as thee. Make me strong. Make me who I have been all along.

Ok. Reading the words out loud, they seemed cheesy. I frowned before I closed the book. Instead of reading the spell written by another, I decided right then and there that if I was talking to a goddess, she would hear my words. My plea.

I don't know who you are. I don't even know if you really exist, but I need your help.

I rested my elbows in the center of the table before I folded my hands together.

My name is Charlotte Kingston. I'm sixteen and hopeless. I'm awkward when I want to know grace. I'm weak when I need to be strong. My family is poor and I am made fun of because of it. The truth is, I want to fit in. Somewhere. I want to be the girl that everybody knows. Everybody fights for. I want to be the damsel who gets to live in a fairy tale of my own making.

I whipped around when I heard a knocking noise behind me. I felt like my heart was beating at a million miles a second, but there was nothing there. My folks had gone to bed hours ago. Despite the darkness behind me, I could make out my bed. The white armoire that served as my closet. Even the dolls I had collected every Christmas and birthday. I dropped my arms and turned back to my spell.

The next step was to write down my desire. I found that my hands were still shaking, but the more I wrote, the easier it became. I poured out my fears of not being good enough. I poured out my failures. My desire to change my life so that I could be like the other girls in my class. When I stopped, I read over my words. It was one thing to have these thoughts, but to see them in print?

It was heart wrenching. At some point, I had started to cry as I detailed the poverty I had been born to. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. No. No more sadness. The Charlotte I wanted to be fought back her tears. She didn’t succumb to them.

I leaned down to write the last words as small as I could. There wasn’t enough room on the page.

So mote it be.

I nodded when I dropped the pen. I read the letter aloud to my empty room. I squinted my eyes to see in the flickering light as a heaviness filled my heart. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized I was wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this. I wasn’t meant to do magick. I was meant to be a good girl who did what she was told.

To hell with that. I closed my eyes and pressed the letter to my chest. I would have what I wanted. I would be who I wanted. No matter what it took to get it.

I sat still for a while. Dreaming of the girl I wanted to be. The baby fat had melted away. I was thin. Tall. My boring brown hair long and dark. Shiny as I tried on clothes that cost more than what my parents made in a month. The girl in my mind laughed. Her bright eyes happy. It was then I realized that this was what I wanted.

To be happy. To laugh. To not worry about money or looks or the life that surrounded me.

Goddess of old, I whispered. Bring her to life. Make me into that girl. The happy one.

I shook my head to chase the images away, but as I folded up the letter in my hand, the girl remained. Still smiling. Still laughing. I touched the corner of the paper to the flames closest to me with a whisper.

May my words be heard in the heavens.

The paper caught too quick. I gasped when the letter erupted