Read this not in the night,
the wrinkled old man said to me.
"For your heart shall turn to ice,
and your soul shall mourn.
Your mind will freeze with terrible fright
at the toll of the bells at midnight.
Heed my words son: Don't read this story in
the darkness of a moonless night."
I am a fearsome creature with a lost,tormented soul.
My heart a cold,callous,empty vessel of cruelty.
A current of torturous, bloody thoughts runs swiftly
as a river through the darkness of my mind.
There is an evil lust for rich,warm,red blood
that incessantly drives me on.
My home is a cold,stony crypt buried
under the weeping willows.
The steamy stench of a thousand years of death
is my only neighbor.
I come eerily alive when the blood red sun sets,
and the cold,silvery full moon rises over the
silent bayous of the city of New Orleans.
Though I've often tried,nothing can quench
this evil,terrible thirst that overcomes me.
So in the deep dreary darkness of the misty night
I must constantly stalk the living and take
that which is not rightly mine.
For I am but a poor misguided soul that you might know
as a Vampyre.
Sorrowfully said the old man to me:
"My friend did I not tell you to read this in the
light of day? For now you are nothing but
a wrinkled,withered soul drained of blood."
Donavon Scott Vinson
