Saturday, December 17, 2011

The ghost was baking. It was Christmas and that's what she did. There were already dozens of chocolate chip with walnut and dried cranberry cookies, sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies and pecan balls. The kitchen was perfumed with the scent of warm butter and cinnamon.

She knew that they should be perfect Christmas cookies, warm and sweet, but wouldn’t be.

Because Dracula couldn’t eat them.

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