just need to know if the style flows and the tension builds.

Backflung to basically say, "It does."

Oh, good. Thanks, P-C; unlike human beings, these guys can't be too sympathetic (they're friggin' vampires, after all) but they're also cautious, canny, and I can't make them complete monsters, either, since eventually they're going to become potential prey for some real live human beings whose values are completely on the want-take-have level.

Yes. The want-take-have conversation.

The setup is intriguing, and I definitely want to know more. Taking what I know out of the equation, I wouldn't have a clue what was coming at this point.

Deb, so far it's very compelling, I like the sense of mystery that's been built up, and it leaves me wanting to know more about the strange couple at the bar (and about the bar itself).

Do you want more nitpicky comments, or is it still too early for such things?

AHA! I finished the prologue, I think.

Bev and Anne, toss the first bit. I'm sending the entire prologue. P-C, incoming as well. Can I get a take, please?

Stoopid Yahoo mail. I'll read as soon as it arrives.

Oh my. Lovely lovely shivers of dread and anticipation. Moremoremore gimme more, please ma'am.

Deena? Your 'escape' drabble upstream just about undid me, woman, especially knowing it was based in truth.

Deb, if you need another beta, feel free to fling it my way.

And what are the odds we can get you back to DC for a book signing?

Edited to say profile addy is good.

My response to this week's challenge:

Reinvention

Each drink erases a little more of who you think I am. These are your expectations, not mine. I suppose it had to happen at some point. I can't be the goody two-shoes anymore. Who really wants the responsibility anyway?

The carbonated tonic water tickles the back of my throat, and the cheap vodka that is the reason for consuming the otherwise tasteless beverage blazes a trail right to the pit of my stomach. It sits, waiting for the right moment to addle my brain and override the behaviour ingrained in me since birth. My patience is soon rewarded. The alcohol has worked its magic. My 8 AM class loses all meaning, and I'm convinced that the Economics test will be a piece of cake. Nevermind that I neglected to study the last half of the material. Details no longer matter. It's all about what I want now. I don't have to be me anymore.

*****
That's not quite the whole story. I don't have to be me, but quite frankly, I want to be. The artificially induced makeover rapidly lost its luster. I don't exist in a vacuum, and my repudiation of everything that comprises who I am hurt me more than I care to admit. Your expectations turned out to be mine after all, but I needed to escape so I could discover it for myself.

125 words. For some reason, the theme didn't work its way into my brain till today:

Dogs

The dogs are barking. They are under the table, squashed into a pair of scuffed wingtips. Their owner is pouring himself a drink, gin the old way.

Gin quaffed, television turned to cable shout-news, the evening is settling in and there is no reason not to set the dogs free. Heel-toe, heel-toe, and the wingtips clatter across the linoleum. With boozy, theatrical elaboration, toes grasp at the opposite ankle and peel a moist sock down, awkward at the joint, inside-out as the mushroomy foot emerges.

Bare toes switch up to the besocked ankle. Granddad has forgotten he no longer lives alone. His granddaughter lopes into the house, bright-faced, long-limbed, and drops her keys on the table. “What stinks?” she asks, loud over the shout-news, confounding in her adroit gracelessness.