[…] There were a lot of vampires – everywhere – and I had to try and kill them.  I remember being inside what looked like a castle courtyard – the walls of which were made from brilliant yellow stones.  Positioned […] along the walls, like sentry, were rows of vampire archers – all, or most, of whom were female.

With me in the courtyard were [female] vampire slayers dressed in red and wielding axes of sparkling crimson – axes whose blades were large and whose handles were long – executioners’ axes.  They twirled these shimmering red axes […] with great skill as they prepared for the battle.  But […] [they were] greatly outnumbered as vampires in long, black leather coats leapt from the walls in countless numbers and attacked the slayers.

I, too, held an axe, but it was small – just fit for the hand – and it had no bright hue, just a wooden handle and a sharpened metal head.  Nor did I wear an outfit with a spectacular scarlet tone – just brown pants, boots, and a white shirt.

Overhead, the vampire archers began shooting their arrows down upon us in great torrents.  That was when I ran from the courtyard, sprinting down a passageway graced […] with a series of yellow-stone arches.  But between these arches, lined above against the wall, were more vampires shooting their arrows at me.  I kept running and they did not strike me.

This […] took place in broad daylight – the sunshine filling every corner.  The next thing I remember was completely the opposite – a scene filled with darkness and light like that which comes from dim candles.  I was sitting at a table richly set with tablecloth, elegant platters, [an] array of decorative flowering, and wine poured into jewel-studded goblets.  I was at this table with three vampires and I, too, was a vampire.  The three were discussing what meal they would like to have next and it seemed […] they were going to decide on bringing a human in.  I disliked the idea but kept quiet, reaching over for my goblet to take a drink when I realized that it was filled not with wine, but with blood.

[…] I found myself walking with these three vampires inside a church – behind […] the pews.  The lights were all off and I lagged a few steps behind two of the vampires while the third – the leader – walked a bit behind me, but almost next to me.  He seemed to sense my dislike for being a vampire and he said prideful things, trying to make me see how great it was to be a vampire.

Then I felt my face wrinkle into a terribly frightening scowl, the folds of which twisted across my features as fangs jutted from my mouth.  It made my face feel heavy and uncomfortable.  My neck also began to feel somewhat strange, as if something was choking it.  I raised my hand to touch my throat and realized that there was blood all over it – oozing […] onto my tight shirt collar.  Gasping for air, I frantically grabbed at the collar and tried to pull it away.


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It was nighttime and the entire town was dark.  There was just enough light to see the area around the church – perhaps, this faint, eerie light was from a pale moon or from the distant glow of a streetlamp.  I either saw them, or I was one of them – a dark, powerful creature that rode in on the shadows with silent [leather] wings […].  This creature flew up and circled one of the spirals of the cathedral, followed by another and yet another.  Then they entered the church […], flying through one of the windows like bats […] [but] more silent and graceful […].

There was a gargoyle or two already inside, perched high […] on one of the ridges near the ceiling.  […] [There was] a battle over this territory […] as the three new gargoyles swooped in, materializing out of the darkness to face their rivals […].  Their fight was […] silent […], interweaving through the black air […].

One of them said something to the other […].  And then I was outside again, watching as one of these […] creatures flew […] away from the cathedral […], disappearing into the night sky […].

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Death in a Gothic Cathedral

I was lying in a large bed next to a middle-aged man that I didn’t recognize.  We were in a […] room that was old and [g]othic […] – the ceiling high and painstakingly chiseled to fine detail.  It was like we were in the center of a […] medieval cathedral.  I [lay], shrouded in shadow.  Then I turned […] away from the man, and saw a dead, young woman lying […] next to me.  Her eyes were open and staring blankly […] while blood spilled from the corner of her mouth onto the pillow.  Her neck was […] bent and broken, a deep gash slicing across […] it, oozing blood […].  […]  I got halfway on top of her, grabbing her […] neck […], and proceeded to strangulate [her].  […]  I stopped – suddenly stunned that I had murdered someone.

Then I woke up […].  The clock read 5:30am.  […] as I drifted back asleep, I listened to my breath hissing […].  Gradually, my breathing began to sound like gasping and each time I gasped, I heard a creaking […] coming from the floor beside my bed – […] as if someone was shifting […].  And then I realized that I wasn’t alone – there was an old woman sitting in a rocking chair […] and the steady creaking […] came from her chair […].  She was dead and transparent […].  She saw that I was afraid of her and a slow smile spread across her […] wasted face, revealing […] withered and yellow teeth. […]

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