Souls sing through the night,

The living hear the song...They just don't know it.

Hiding from the light...working to the bone,

Walking home through darkened unlit streets....hungry...

Listening to the songs, being proof the dead never sleep.

Turning down an avenue and finding a child in a doorway...you try to hide yourself from sight.

No matter how hard you try the child listens and raises her head, listening to your song.

As a Horror writer I've been often and pointedly been asked why I write this stuff. It's not ever said directly, but it's always there: Is there something wrong with you? In my own defense, quite a few people enjoy reading this same stuff and even more get a thrill out of watching it on the big screen. Just to hazard a guess, I'd say most people have in their life read a horror book or seen a horror movie. The question then becomes: What's wrong with us?

Were anyone to walk by that section of wall, they might have noticed a small curled up figure sitting on the ground. If they were of preternatural learnings. Otherwise she hid rather well in plain view. Not that she exactly cared if anyone saw her, Koreena was rather wrapped up in her own thoughts again.

When I was a Vampire, I did it for the money. Which makes me a vampiric whore I guess. Which is mild compared to labels the blood sucking, corruption dealing reps of the Undead have been trading under for millennia.