The year is 1967. What a strange year that was but that is for another story. I was sitting in a little corner of a coffee shop, pretending to drink a cup of coffee and eating a slice of pie. When I over heard a group of kids talking about yesterday's episode of a popular television show.

Normally I don't listen in on conversations of this sort but the word vampire caught my attention. This intrigued me and I had to hear more. I adjusted my self in the booth to listen in. The title of the show is called Dark Shadows. It is apparently a soap opera or serial of some sort about a vampire and his human family. I chuckled thinking of my friend Carlisle and his family but they are all vampires. I can't imagine Carlisle having a human family living with him. However, it might be something that he would dream up.

I look at my watch and see that I have time to sneak out of the coffee shop and search for a television set as the program will be on in about 30 minutes. I slip out and leave a good tip for my waitress.

Deciding to go into the local department store and asking the salesman to test the television sets on display. I find that station in question and listening to the theme music come on to announce the beginning of the show. I realize quickly the acting is poor in some areas but the conversations and writing of the script is of higher quality. However, no one can surpass Marlowe or Shakespeare in script writing.

Then the man who intrigued me stepped out on to the stage or living room staring at a picture of a beautiful woman, I assumed was his wife or beloved. He states to her: “I was a Collins. Why didn't you protect me? Where were you when I was turned into something that even my own father loathed. If his ghost is here with yours tell him I've come home. I claim this house as mine. And whatever power you or he may have has ended. I'm free now and alive! The chains with which he bound me are broken. And I've returned to live the life I never had--whatever that may turn out to be.”

I stood there stunned at the feeling behind them and how I to have felt those same feelings. The anger, the betrayal, the anguish... the despair. At the end of the program, I turned and walked away in a silent revery pondering all that this man had endured and how similar and how different our lives are.

Returning home to my flat... walking up to the painting of my mother and sisters that I had done to remind me of the women that I lost. I feel the words that Mr. Collins used not that long ago bubble up to the surface and I to ask a similar question and wonder if they had known what my father's plan was... could they have stopped him?

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