Hi and welcome back to Nighty Night, bedtime stories to keep you awake.

I'm your host Raviachaudhri. In this week's episode, we visit a bone-chilling

tale of when love and bloodlust intersect.

Each man kills by Victoria Glad. Now that it's all over, it seems like a bad dream. But when I look at Maria's picture on my desk, I realize it couldn't have been a dream.

Actually, it was only six months ago that I sat at the same desk looking at her picture,

wondering what could have happened to her.

It had been six weeks since there had been any word from her and she had promised to write as soon as she arrived in Europe.

Considering that my future rested in her small hands, I had every right to be apprehensive. We had grown up together

and lost our folks within a few years of each other and had been fond of each other the

way kids are apt to be. Then the change came. It seemed I loved her and she was still just fond of me.

During our early college days I sort of let things ride but once we went on to graduate school I began to crowd her.

The next thing I knew she had signed up with a student tour destined for Central Europe and told me she would give me my answer when she

returned. I had to be content with that but couldn't help worrying. Maria was a

strange girl, withdrawn, dreamy, and soft-hearted.

Knowing the section she was going to, I was inclined to be uneasy,

since it is the realm of gypsies, fortune tellers, and the like.

It is also the birthplace of many strange legends and Maria

claimed to be strongly psychic. As a matter of fact she had foretold one or

two things which were probably coincidental like the death of our parents and which even made an impression on me and you'd hardly called me a believer.

This so-called talent of hers led her into trouble on more than one occasion.

I remember in her senior year at college she fell under the spell of a short, fat, greasy spook

reader with a strictly phony accent and all but gave her eye teeth away until I realized something

...