I lost many of my assumptions as to the romantic nature of Vampires as I watched in horror the scene that unfolded by the light of the full moon that night. It was only seconds after the man scratched his hand on the thorn bush as he passed by my campsite that they came. “We can smell your blood human!”, they sang as the three of them appeared suddenly in a ring around him, as if conjured from an unnatural mist that hadn’t existed a moment before. There was no slow seduction, followed by a gentle bite on the neck like you read about in the stories. Eyes wide with fear, the man didn’t have time even to beg for his life before they attacked, ripping him apart and gulping his gushing blood in their frenzied, ferocious dance. My own fear kept me rooted in place like a mighty oak but what has haunted me every night since is when one of them winked his eye at me before disappearing back into the mist.
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