Myrtle
| In the dream factory that was Golden Age Hollywood, there was a young girl who took to the bright lights as if born to them. She could sing, she could dance, she could act, the powers that be took great interest in her career, expecting to see her accomplish great things.
In the glorified Brothel that was 1930's Los Angeles, my family sold me in return for money and fortune. Of course, it made me famous, so I hardly complained. I was a good little dancing monkey, and the people I helped make richer wanted to keep that going. As she started emerging from child roles to be a leading lady, however, she started to fall into bad habits. Worried about her well being, her benefactors contributed as they could to her care, hoping for a turn around, even if it was a sad story they'd seen before. Right around the time it became okay to film me in bed with someone, I started living life on purpose. I smoked, drank, partied, and did things based on whether or not I wanted to do them, rather than what my agent's thought. They'd ridden this rollercoaster, so had me committed. That was, it turned out, the worst thing to do. Known as Alice Reed, she never returned to the screen, and slowly vanished from the memories of all but the most fanatical followers. But while she was Dead, she was not gone. I met my sire in the psycho ward. He gave me the Gift and took me away from the Toreadors who would have controlled me in a prank. That sure made them mad, and so instead of coming to my own in Hollywood, I fled to the rat holes of Europe where they couldn't chase us. Now, that's all just water under the bridge, and I have returned to the West Coast to claim some semblance of the life folks were stealing from me since my parents during my childhood. We can have fun, we can play, just enjoy the gleaming lights... and perhaps beware the seedy underbelly. Unless you like that sort of thing. | ||||||||||
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