Prose 2

You can spend four hundred nights alone. Content to be alone, but a longing is there. If you’re unaware of this longing you’ve never truly been alone, on the fringes, in the shadows.
But the second some people realize you’re no longer going to be alone, no longer in the shadows, is the second the vampires of your past lives emerge. Like a moon on a cloudy night, suddenly, and all at once bright where there was dark. Beckoning for your blood once more.


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