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Narrative Essay Of Diana Martin

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After waking from a full fifteen hours of dreamless slumber, Diana Martin sat straight up and then opened her light blue eyes. Raising her arms high above her head, she generously stretched her pale, slender, well-rested body. Stirring atop the smooth granite platform, she watched the sun glow burnt orange as it slid beneath the horizon. While tracing her fingertips over the cool stone structure that supported her, she thought about how much she missed the red silk sheets of her Victorian-style bed back home, for they virtually hid the blood expressed by her victims, in particular, the ones she feasted on just before bedtime. The flow of warm, thick hemoglobin into her body always helped her sleep so soundly. Seconds later, she focused all

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