proud Generals were forced to abort their plans. If we had allowed them to strike then the world would be a different place.
Other politicians tried to stop the flood of young women flowing to the Vamps, but the courts ruled that it was their bodies and that they could do whatever they pleased. Hell, in California one of them even got elected to the state senate. From then on things began to snowball for them. They bided their time until things here in the states reached the saturation point. All the while they insinuated themselves into every facet of society and then they struck. By that point they were everywhere. In the military, the police, wall street. We didn't stand a chance.
We learned very soon that most of the myths were just that, myths. Garlic had no effect; sunlight didn't burn them, although it does disorient them, and countless other tall tales. Staking and beheading are the only sure ways to finish one off. One thing was very true however, blood makes them strong. Remember those three wizened refugees? Well, by the time they went on television they weren't so wizened anymore. They were young, virile, and attractive. That helped tremendously with their appeal.
Under the banner of their god Ba’al, the ancient god of flies and corruption, they began rounding up what was left of humanity in North America. Blood banks were set up and people were slaughtered by the thousands men and women, but not children. Oh no, they keep the children fat and healthy to preserve their stock. They also kept a few “Does” but hardly any “Bucks”. Bucks are slaughtered for food immediately. My wife and daughter were captured during the great sweeps. I won’t lie, I cry myself to sleep most nights thinking about my poor Anna growing up in a pen like a farm animal. The thought of my beautiful Samantha being doped out of her mind and constantly being artificially inseminated haunts every moment.
The UN threatened retaliation, but we all knew that was bluster. The Vamps promised them that they were content in North America and the UN wanted to believe their lies. I know for a fact, however, that they have already started to move south into Mexico and north into Canada. A few of us are still free and still trying to fight back, but we get fewer every day. They caught and drained Frank and Sue just last Wednesday. So, we move around a lot and try to help where we can, fight the good fight, keep peoples hopes alive, but damn we're so tired. So so tired. We’ve drifted out west where the sun is a little brighter and offers a little bit of protection. By the way, what did you say your name was again?
Author’s foreword:
A Night Under the Stars came about while my wife and I were watching far too much Dexter. I was also interested in writing something in the lines of Poe. Something dark and unapologetic.
I have an odd fascination with a company named Tumbleweed houses. They specialize in tiny houses built on the backs of trailers. I also have a fascination with characters without identities such as Eastwood’s Man With No Name. The two things combined in my head to make this story. A man with no name, no given destination and a ruthless attitude who runs across an equally brutal serial killer. I wanted to see how a killer would fare against a man as given to violence as himself.
He was sitting on his porch listening to the radio, drinking wine when he saw the man creeping through the RV campsite. Porch might have been slightly misleading as it was only 7' wide and 3' deep. Since he had built the thing with his own two hands, however, he felt that he could call it whatever grandiose terms that he liked. The radio was giving the latest news about the Rest Stop Butcher, lingering almost lovingly over the details of his latest victim. Again, this was a misleading term as only the first few murders had taken place at rest stops. The rest had taken place at RV parks, campsites and any other lonely place a victim could be
Other politicians tried to stop the flood of young women flowing to the Vamps, but the courts ruled that it was their bodies and that they could do whatever they pleased. Hell, in California one of them even got elected to the state senate. From then on things began to snowball for them. They bided their time until things here in the states reached the saturation point. All the while they insinuated themselves into every facet of society and then they struck. By that point they were everywhere. In the military, the police, wall street. We didn't stand a chance.
We learned very soon that most of the myths were just that, myths. Garlic had no effect; sunlight didn't burn them, although it does disorient them, and countless other tall tales. Staking and beheading are the only sure ways to finish one off. One thing was very true however, blood makes them strong. Remember those three wizened refugees? Well, by the time they went on television they weren't so wizened anymore. They were young, virile, and attractive. That helped tremendously with their appeal.
Under the banner of their god Ba’al, the ancient god of flies and corruption, they began rounding up what was left of humanity in North America. Blood banks were set up and people were slaughtered by the thousands men and women, but not children. Oh no, they keep the children fat and healthy to preserve their stock. They also kept a few “Does” but hardly any “Bucks”. Bucks are slaughtered for food immediately. My wife and daughter were captured during the great sweeps. I won’t lie, I cry myself to sleep most nights thinking about my poor Anna growing up in a pen like a farm animal. The thought of my beautiful Samantha being doped out of her mind and constantly being artificially inseminated haunts every moment.
The UN threatened retaliation, but we all knew that was bluster. The Vamps promised them that they were content in North America and the UN wanted to believe their lies. I know for a fact, however, that they have already started to move south into Mexico and north into Canada. A few of us are still free and still trying to fight back, but we get fewer every day. They caught and drained Frank and Sue just last Wednesday. So, we move around a lot and try to help where we can, fight the good fight, keep peoples hopes alive, but damn we're so tired. So so tired. We’ve drifted out west where the sun is a little brighter and offers a little bit of protection. By the way, what did you say your name was again?
Author’s foreword:
A Night Under the Stars came about while my wife and I were watching far too much Dexter. I was also interested in writing something in the lines of Poe. Something dark and unapologetic.
I have an odd fascination with a company named Tumbleweed houses. They specialize in tiny houses built on the backs of trailers. I also have a fascination with characters without identities such as Eastwood’s Man With No Name. The two things combined in my head to make this story. A man with no name, no given destination and a ruthless attitude who runs across an equally brutal serial killer. I wanted to see how a killer would fare against a man as given to violence as himself.
He was sitting on his porch listening to the radio, drinking wine when he saw the man creeping through the RV campsite. Porch might have been slightly misleading as it was only 7' wide and 3' deep. Since he had built the thing with his own two hands, however, he felt that he could call it whatever grandiose terms that he liked. The radio was giving the latest news about the Rest Stop Butcher, lingering almost lovingly over the details of his latest victim. Again, this was a misleading term as only the first few murders had taken place at rest stops. The rest had taken place at RV parks, campsites and any other lonely place a victim could be
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