Psst! Can I take you to the corner shop where everything is sold from sweets to human brains? Don’t be afraid. It really isn’t that scary. Okay, maybe a little, but you know I’ll be with you all the way. The sweets come in tiny scrubbed skulls and they taste delicious. They remind me of my childhood. It seems so long ago now. No, I’m not crying. I think something is in my eye. Let’s go, we don’t have much time till sunrise.

Here, take my hand. Sorry that it’s so cold. I can’t control that part of me. How shall I put this? I’m not one for vacationing in sunny Spain. No, I prefer the more sedate holidays. Where? It’s been so long since I actually took a holiday. I think it was Norway or Finland. It’s one of those places where the sun doesn’t rise for the entire winter.

The streets are quiet tonight. Amsterdam is a fun city, don’t you think? I know you like it here. But do you know that the city hides a variety of people. It does. Look at that flower seller for example. He’s just like me. How can I tell? He only sells red tulips. He refuses to sell any other colour. The red is exquisite, don’t you agree? He grows them in fresh blood. It’s true. I’ve seen his factory, where thousands of tulips grow by candlelight, fed with blood. Where does he get the blood? That’s a secret, but let’s just say that it always arrives in bottles.

Let’s go down this alley. See how Amsterdam hides its addicts and hookers and destitute. Tourists don’t want to see this part of the city. They stick to the light, the clog shops and the over-priced restaurants. They think this city is amusing. But it’s not really. Trust me.

Keep up now. Don’t look at that man. You can tell by his eyes that he’s higher than the moon. What’s it like to be high? I don’t know. I can only imagine it’s a pleasant feeling if they keep injecting stuff like that into their veins. A pity really, it makes their blood taste sour.

I’m sorry you don’t like coming out at night. I promise it won’t take long. Besides, you really are beautiful. Shouldn’t beauty like yours be admired and not hidden away? After all, Mona Lisa has been admired for hundreds of years for her devious beauty. Why not you?

I think walking is better than taking the tram. It’s a warm night tonight and the light of the full moon is enough to guide us. The trams, I find, are always full of people that seem to ooze grime through every pore on their skin. But the trams are also for people who are lonely and have nowhere to go. That’s where I find the best, um, friends to show my corner shop.

I know I didn’t find you on the tram, but it’s always good to change every now and again. Sometimes familiarity breeds carelessness, and I can’t afford to be careless. It bothers me, too, that everything and everyone is being watched these days. Have you noticed the amount of cameras this city has? It’s ridiculous. A hundred years ago one could walk around at night with not the slightest bit of fear of being recognised or witnessed. It was easier back then. The women were weak. The men were always drunk. The children were taught to respect their elders.

Nowadays it seems that the youth are taught to be belligerent. Women are being taught to fight back and the men are changing into women. It’s so hard to tell the difference these days. Living a modern lifestyle is not for the faint-hearted.

Keep up now. This alley is dangerous. Keep close to me and don’t speak to anyone.
Where you see that green lantern is where my corner shop is. It’s so exciting that I found someone like you to share it with. I hope you try the sweets.

Here we are. Let’s admire the window display. Do you like it? It took me three days to design it and to collect the heads needed. What? Of course they are real heads. I don’t use wax like that fake Madame Tussaud. How disappointed was I when I first went in there to discover everything was wax. They could’ve at least included a real skeleton or two.

You like the lighting. I’m glad. It emphasises the blood dripping from the open veins. I’ve tried to hide the drip-tray so it doesn’t spoil the floor. It’s also much easier to clean that way.

Let’s go inside, shall we?

Ah, smell that. It’s my own fragrance: burnt flesh and cinnamon. I made it just yesterday. I’ll give you the recipe if you promise not to tell anyone. There are so many who’ll try and get their hands on the recipe. It’s called industrial espionage. They’ve already stolen a few of my ideas. Not to worry, I’m always getting more. It’s almost supernatural, the way I get so many.

Look! My assistant has packed out my latest display unit. It revolves so you get to see everything inside. It’s a little smaller than I hoped but it’ll do just nicely. What has my assistant packed inside? Let’s have a look, shall we?

Those are screaming eyes. What’s a screaming eye? I’ll get one for you and you can hear for yourself. Now, don’t be squeamish. Open your hand. There you go. It’s not so bad. Now close your hand and give it a good shake. Isn’t that funny? They are plucked from the sockets of women in labour. They make delightful Christmas presents. Let’s put it back and see what else there is. That’s a stuffed hand severed from a serial killer. What’s in the jars? It’s liquefied skin. It’s good for the complexion. Hides the paleness. A customer of mine uses it for gout. And those are my personal favourite, gossiping lips. Elderly ladies donate them. If you hold them to your ear you’ll hear them whispering. Let’s put them back, gossiping lips tire quickly.

Oh, here is my assistant now. She is beautiful, but not as beautiful as you. The mirror she holds comes from Marie Antoinette herself. I took it off her before, well, you know, the big chop.

Pandora has no face. Oh, don’t be alarmed. She has a face, but not one that you and I would come to expect. It’s in the mirror. Yes, she keeps her face in the mirror.  Pandora has such lovely green eyes.

Good evening, Pandora.

She cannot speak. It’s a pity. I bet her voice is just as beautiful as her eyes. Never mind, she makes a good assistant and has caught many a spy in my shop with her mirror.

Let’s go to the back of the shop. What about the books? Yes, they are all mine. I’ve collected them over the centuries. There are some rare and dangerous books amongst this collection, but I keep the most sacred back here.

Drinks, Pandora.

She is such a faithful friend.

Go through the velvet curtain. I’ll just light some candles. How did I do that? It’s a little trick I do to impress my new friends. In fact, it’s one of the first things I learnt before, well, we don’t need to go into that right now.

The air is a little stuffy, but you’ll get used to it. What is this room? I don’t know how to explain it really. It’s sort of a welcoming room. Yes, a welcoming room. I bring my new friends in here, Pandora brings us some lovely wine ... what? I know you are too young to drink. Pandora will bring some juice then. Anyway, we just sit and chat and chat and get to know each other a little better.

Ah, here’s Pandora now. She has already thought of the juice.

Thank you, Pandora.

Pandora has been with me for many years. How did I meet her? It’s a long story. I’ll make it short.

She was born with no face. In 1912 it was considered to be an act of witchcraft. Her mother went into hiding and her father hung himself on an oak tree. Rumour has it that the midwife, that’s the lady who helps other women give birth, dropped her in a sewer before going completely mad. How she survived until I found her is nothing short of a miracle.

I gave her that face, you know. I’m sort of a magician when it comes to creating faces for those who have lost theirs.

Now, do you like the corner shop so far? You do? That’s marvellous. It’s about to get a whole lot more exciting.

As I said when we met, beauty should always be admired. Ah, and your eyes and your hair are the essence of beauty. I wish ... never mind. The funny thing about wishes is that they never really come true, do they? I bet you’ve wished for loads of toys for Christmas and your birthday and gotten nothing but stinking clothes or knitted sweaters.

I can tell by your laugh that I’m right.

But there is one wish I can fulfil.

Genevieve! Genevieve! You can come in!

Genevieve is a special friend. In fact, she is more than a friend. She’s my daughter.

Ah, Genevieve. Come meet my – our – new friend. Isn’t she beautiful?

Genevieve is eleven years old, like you. She loves playing with dolls, watching Spongebob Squarepants, and riding her bicycle. Aren’t those all the things you like? I thought they were.

Genevieve doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. She is like me and only likes to come out when the sun has gone to bed. Will you be her friend? I’m sure she’d love that.

But Genevieve is a special little girl.

Genevieve’s mother and I were very much in love. I remember everything about her. Sadly, she wasn’t like me. We can’t help who we fall in love with, can we? Anyway, Genevieve is the first naturally-conceived vampire baby. I’ve kept her a secret for so long because I don’t want her becoming the subject of unscrupulous creatures.

That’s where you come in. You’ve heard of vampires. I’m sure your fairy-tale books are filled with how horrid we are and how we delight in drinking blood. Well, just the last part is true.

Don’t look so frightened. There’ll be no blood drinking tonight. I fed before we met. Genevieve doesn’t need to feed on blood to survive like her daddy. No, she needs something more... physical.

I chose her like you said, darling. You wanted red hair and you’ve got it. Look at how it shines with youth.

You see, Genevieve needs your body. Yes. She needs to swap this old one for a new one. See how her face is cracking by the lips. It brings such melancholy to a father’s heart to see his daughter crack and fade like a weathered garden statue. Bodies just don’t last long anymore. Five days at the most. There is no other way.

Pandora! Pandora!

Lie down on the couch if you feel a little dizzy. There you go. Pandora will be here to comfort you. Oh, don’t worry about the bindings. They are for your protection.

Not too tight, Pandora. Her wrists are so fragile.

Genevieve is quite experienced at this, promise. I must admit the first time was a bit unsettling, and she almost ended up as a wandering ghost. A father can’t hug his daughter if she’s a ghost, can he?

Your neck smells so sweet. I’m sorry. I lied about there being no drinking of blood. It’s just ... you ... taste ... so sweet.

Close your eyes. Don’t fight it. Just let it take control of your young body. Feel your soul being pushed out. Let it go through your toes. Yes! Here comes the light. It shines so bright. I sometimes forget how strong my daughter’s will for survival is. She has to move slowly through the physical world. I wonder what she sees with her ghostly eyes. Gently. Slowly. Down you go, Genevieve.

Hold her steady, Pandora. She has to enter this new body precisely as it lies. We cannot have any mistakes. When this is done, you know what to do with the old body. Look how it lies on the floor all crumpled and broken. Physical bodies are fickle hosts to carry such beautiful souls.

Don’t feel afraid, sweet child. Many have been before you. Can you see them? They’ll welcome you into the darkness. You’ll never be alone. That’s it ... let go ... surrender. Your light is a little darker than my daughter’s. You shall find your way to the afterlife. I believe that there is a light, or some sort of welcoming by dead relatives. I hope someone is on the other side for you. That’s it, allow my daughter inside ...

Genevieve? Can you hear your daddy? Look, Pandora. She’s opening her eyes. Ah, what beautiful green eyes you have, Genevieve. It lifts the melancholy from my heart to see you so beautiful. I shall show you off to the world tonight. Genevieve –

What have you done, you cursed little creature!

Pandora! Pandora! We’re losing her! Her soul’s not staying in! Fight it, Genevieve. Fight it! Her light is escaping. The eyes – quickly – seal the eyes! Pass me the blinder. I’m sorry, Genevieve. I have to do this. I promise the next one will be better. I promise...

* * * * *

The sun rises over Amsterdam and brings the living into the light. A cool wind comes from the north. Somewhere nearby the corner shop, a tourist bus loads up a group of Canadians. Restaurants advertise early morning breakfasts to weary tourists and locals who have survived the wickedness of night. Traffic slowly builds to a mind-numbing buzz.

Life in the city is back to normal as another day begins its slow decline towards darkness. The decline into night is effortless, but I wait for it with anxious expectation. Genevieve’s screams penetrate my skull. I’ve told her to keep quiet. I’ve begged her to stop!

Please stop!

I’ve been forced to close the shop. Pandora keeps me company. She holds the mirror to my face so I can see her sadness.

Why does she curse me, Pandora? I did what I had to do.

Pandora soothes me by taking my hand in hers, but the pain does not go away.

I didn’t know, Pandora. In all my years of existence, I truly didn’t know. I’m ... so ... sorry...

It was the truth and saying it out loud didn’t make it any better to hear. I didn’t know. For all the books, spells, potions I possessed, none of it was of any use to me any more. The words from long ago meant nothing. Not even the screaming eyes brought a smile to my face. Not even the gossiping lips told me what I wanted to hear. They whispered rumours of a vampire who had killed his daughter. They whispered treacherous mutterings. They whispered the depth of my remorse.

Genevieve, my precious daughter, is now forever sealed inside a body that has no eyes. By sealing her eyes, I had unknowingly – innocently – sealed my daughter’s soul permanently inside the new body.

Five days ... and when the body starts to die, so shall she.