By Stephen Lodge
On cool, marble stone I stand awaiting sunset. The sun’s feeble rays are cruel upon my skin. Once it is dark my misery will cease and I can hunt the prey I crave.
Wolves howl in the forests; I sense their uneasy agitation. Nightfall takes me by the hand and leads me to the graveyard. Come, Countess of the dark, hold me in your haunted caress, your vice-like embrace, and feast again on my neck.
Nightmares are then ushered from my mind and I can seek what I crave for each night. A packet of chocolate biscuits from the village shop.
Ah, well; we can’t all be seduced by vampires–thank goodness! Good story.