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There were rumors about your family. About your father. Every night when you go to sleep, he would tell you stories of how he’d hunt those he hated most. Those who walk the night. Vampires. People thought he was crazy, because he actually believed what he told you. Of course you knew they were just stories. Until one night when he didn’t come home. Your poor mother, beside herself worried sick. You, now the man of the house, couldn’t just stay home. You had to find him. You were out in the woods, his known hunting grounds, when all of the sudden, you were struck in the back of the head, blacking out. When you came to, the air was cold and still. Your vision was blurred but even then you could tell you sat in dark, silence. Until the silence was broken by a soft, silky voice: “Oh good you’re awake.”
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