• It is a night of death, a song of sorrow
    wolves vent their howls. The dark one stirs.

    Wisps of death shrouds her deathly form
    an everlasting fear.

    Her midnight hair cascades over
    pale shoulders and her
    full blood red lips part slightly, to taste the
    blood streaming from the
    pale flesh beneath her.

    Now a night of ecstscty,
    I thirst.