This short story is about a Vampire who stalks the Appalachian Mountains. A traditional Vampire who uses fangs instead of guns. He hunts. He kills. He sleeps at Dawn.
Set into the center of the wall was one large, tall gate. It looked like it was made of wood that was so thick and strong Mother Nature would be powerless against it. Brian and Danny stopped when they reached the gate.
“Would you look at this thing?” Brian asked, running his hand over the polished wood, which was smooth and shiny, splinter free. “It looks brand new, like it’s just been replaced.”
Danny shuffled nervously behind him, as the sun sank a bit lower in the sky. He noticed that the shadows around them were now taking up most of the light, and there was something else grabbing his attention. The trees nearby seemed to have movement inside of them, and what sent shivers up his spine was that he thought he saw red eyes glowing inside the darkness. These eyes went from two to four while he stood there, trying not to pee his pants.