Viniferous
an excerpt

The air was chill and she heard the heat come on. She stood over the floor vent as her daughters often stood, feeling the warm air push her nightgown aside, opening her up like a flower. It was good to be warm.

Maybe something hot to drink... She glided out of the room like a wraith in a pale blue shroud - a flimy confection from her husband that complemented her bright blonde hair. The twins, another present from her husband, also had bright hair and blue eyes.

Rosalie was dark like her father. Rosalie is like her father in many ways, the mother thought. And the twins are like my mother. And no one is like me.