#i put bits from machado's introduction and footnotes in here because i love them

[promptling]

CARMILLA by j. sheridan le fanu, edited by carmen maria machado

did you realize he killed her off?

who reads an introduction?

i long for the door to open.

i did not know that it was possible.

i did not realize my soil was not salted.

she is already dead.

someone did lie there, the place is still warm.

lord hear all good prayers for us, for jesus's sake.

the poor young lady is dead.

the letter appears to me to have been written in distraction.

i'm in one of my moping moods tonight.

i forget the rest.

was ever a being so born to calamity?

i cannot, dare not, delay.

it would be so delightful.

where am i? what is this place?

how do you like our guest?

tell me about her.

how very odd to say all that!

i hope i have not done a very foolish thing.

how wonderful!

i saw your face in a dream, and it has haunted me ever since.

i could not forget your face.

i don't know which of us should be more afraid of the other.

if you were less pretty i think i should be very much afraid of you.

i wonder whether you feel as strangely drawn towards me as i do to you.

i have never had a friend.

i shan't require assistance.

it is very hard to part with you.

young people like, and even love, on impulse.

heavens! if i had but known all!

your little heart is wounded.

if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours.

you are mine, you shall be mine, you and i are one forever.

what can you mean by this?

i don't know myself when you look so and talk so.

don't you perceive how discordant that is?

i think it very sweet.

you pierce my ears.

you must die - everyone must die - and all are happier when they do.

i don't trouble my head about peasants.

tell me nothing about ghosts.

i hope there is no plague or fever coming.

sit here, hold my hand.

that comes of strangling people with hymns!

i shall demand redress from him.

then you have been ill?

let us talk no more of it.

you would not wound a friend?

you are afraid to die?

girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally butterflies when the summer comes; but in the meantime there are grubs and larvae, don’t you see—each with their peculiar propensities, necessities and structure.

are you glad i came?

how romantic you are.

i have been in love with no one, and never shall, unless it should be with you.

i live in you, and you would die for me, i love you so.

is there a chill in the air?

it is the last time, perhaps, i shall see the moonlight with you.

i have been thinking of leaving you.

do you think that you will ever confide fully in me?

you do not know how dear you are to me.

i am under vows, no nun half so awfully.

you will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish.

how jealous i am you cannot know.

you must come with me, loving me, into death; or else hate me and still come with me, and hating me through death and after.

there is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.

you are going to talk your wild nonsense again.

were you ever at a ball?

i was all but assassinated in my bed.

love will have its sacrifices.

no sacrifice without blood.

you see it now with your own eyes.

you must not plague me with questions.

you are not to trouble your head about it.

i should tell you all with pleasure, but you should not believe me.

you puzzle me utterly.

i had no hope of meeting you so soon.