“ These young children don’t even know the real stories of vampires, let alone the original pair! I want to suck your blood. Bleh, makes me sick to my core!” my grandmother shouted. She had just seen another ad on TV for the Twilight series. I always chuckled a little when she was like this. She was constantly telling old stories. Most people chalked it up to myths and legends but not Mah Mah. She was stubborn.

“Well, Grandma, since you know so much why don’t you tell me who the original pair are?” I snickered as she glared pointedly in my way. She knew I was poking fun at her, but I was very curious about what she was going to say. She was an amazing storyteller.

“ You’re a cheeky one aren’t you? It all started very long ago. Some say that it was an oath taken out on a gamble. There were five brothers known as the Pandava brothers. They were all unique but Bhima was the greatest. Bhima was mighty, strong, a warrior, scared of no one, wielder of the mace, and boy was he handsome and rugged ...”Her eyes had glossed over and she was far away.

“ OK OK OK, Grandma, I get it. He likes to fight and was cute. Can you carry on and get to the point?” I could tell my grandmother was invested in this story. It was strange to see her this lively over something I didn’t even think she knew much about. I had to snap her back to reality.

“ Don’t interrupt. It’s rude. Anyways back to the story. Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?” She then proceeded to stick her tongue out at me and nestled deeper into her chair. I rolled my eyes. “Real mature, Grandma.”

She gave me a warning look and then carried on,“ Bhima was truly majestic in his craft of wielding the mace. A war had broken out and he had to make good on his promise. What was his promise you ask?” She lifted from her seat, a strange glint in her eyes. I didn’t interrupt this time and let her carry on.

“It was said that he had to rip off the arms of his opponent and drink his blood. And during the battle, the opportunity arose when Bhima could get his revenge and with arrows in his back he ripped off his opponent’s arms and cracked open his chest and drank the warm blood.” My grandmother was cackling at this point. “ Bhima exclaimed that the blood was sweeter than honey. Hmm, I think they said milk but I don’t like milk so I say, honey. That man did deserve it. I heard he tried to steal Bhima’s wife and to make up for it Bhima washed her hair in his blood.”

My eyes grew wide. I was not sure who this woman was. I knew my grandmother was a great storyteller but where did she get this story at? “ Where are you reading these stories, Grandma Draupadi, and milk was the only thing you saw wrong with that story?! What ever happened to them? ”

“ You’ll know in due time.” Her grin was that of the Joker. I could have sworn I saw my grandmother's canines sharpen and she had eyes like a serpent. She did just tell a crazy story. Must have been a trick of the light.

Author’s Note: I thought it was really funny that I had recently reread Twilight and there was a small snippet of blood-drinking in the stories. The fact that Twilight was so fresh in my mind meant I ran with it and that’s how this story came about. I based the interaction off how my grandmother and I interact because it’s easier for me to draw off real-life experiences. I wanted the story to start off light and playful because the actual story isn’t that lighthearted with the war, ripping off arms, and blood-drinking. I also hint that the grandmother is, in fact, the wife of Bhima and is a vampire herself. I ended the story there because I want the reader to come up with the missing blanks like how they got that far and if the granddaughter will ever find out that her grandparents are the people from the story, or if there are more vampires, or possibly if the granddaughter will turn into one herself. I want the reader to come up with their own version and give them away to explore all the possibilities and leave it very open-ended.