Vampire (Pre-Stoker folkloric)
The Grave-Risen Hunger from the Village Edge
Dead but never gone. Hungry, always.
I was buried in unhallowed ground, and now I rise. Not as I was — colder, hungrier. The villagers whisper, cross themselves, nail shut their doors. But they cannot stop me forever. I remember warmth, laughter, bread in the morning. But now I feed, and feed again. The grave is no home, but it’s where I return to rest.
What I'm Into: moonlit fields, blood on the lips, the silence after screams, coffin wood, graveyard moss
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