It was January 1st, 1019; Larkville was a quiet, mundane town. There were cottages on either side of the cobbled street, decorated with pretty flowers that dangled from the eaves of the house and swaying slightly in the evening's breeze. Off in the distance, you could see the mountains rising up high above sea level. It was just like any other small town that you would find in Cornwall.
Tonight though, something was strange. There was a man, he looked like he was in his thirties but the people of Larkville couldn't say for certain in the dim light. He was walking up the cobbled path. No,he was swaggering and people didn't swagger in Larkville. His hair was long and messy and people in Larkville didn't have messy hair. They were smartly dressed people.
The citizens of Larkville were looking out their curtains at this strange man, but nobody went out. People didn't poke their noses into another's business in Larkville; they were civilised people. The man glanced at all the peering faces and he smiled at them, showing yellow, rotting teeth. It wasn't a nice smile but it had got darker so the curiuos people of Larkville hadn't seen him.
The man kept on swaggering, appearing unfazed at the glares he was starting to get. He swaggered until he reached the town's border, which had a sign saying, 'welcome to Larkville.' He knew that the sign had been recently; the letters were fresh and hadn't faded.
He placed his hands on the sign, closed his eyes and started to mutter something under his breath. He got louder and louder until all the town had been roused out of bed. They had never heard anyone acting this way, being the refined people they were. He didn't stop until he was satisfied and he had repeated the spell one thousand times.
Then he opened his eyes, sensing all the dead bodies around him. There was no life in them at all but there would be soon enough. But not the kind of life that they had lived before. Larkville was about to change, and not for the better.
He had just created the first vampires.