The sun has vanished.
Nighttime falls upon the land.
The creature hungers.

It hungers for blood.
Fresh blood, from the innocent.
This is its sole food.

Driven by hunger,
The creature leaves to go hunt
Fresh and still warm blood.

Flying overhead,
It spots a worthy victim.
The creature swoops down.

Its prey is asleep,
Unaware of the creature.
Quietly, it strikes.

Blood is quickly sucked
Out of the victim's warm flesh.
The creature takes flight.

In its leave, a curse.
A curse upon the victim.
The victim rises.

Not as a human,
But forever the undead.
A cure? There is none.

Bwahahah. -