�She often appears as a swirling mist or � or a dark shape of sorts,�
Tina said as she smiled faintly,
gazing upwards as though she were conjuring images from her mind and
projecting them across the night
sky. �She feeds off of �pranic� energy, preferably from freshly spilled
blood.�
It was nearly midnight by the time Tina Wallace agreed to meet Mr.
Vanhook outside the gates of
Ravenhill Cemetery. Vanhook was on a writing assignment to produce a
Halloween-themed article for
Aldertron Monthly magazine concerning an area of Bradley County, Tennessee,
which is rumored to be
haunted by the vampiric ghost of a young lady named Julia Camp. He was a
pragmatic man not prone to
supernatural beliefs, and his patience was already wearing thin with the
young lady he was interviewing.
� In terms of actual lore, Ms. Wallace, what exactly is a �vampire�?�
Vanhook inquired.
�Well, it really depends on the legends, I- I suppose,� Tina replied.
�Yes, but what is your criterion for defying what a vampire is?�
�I have felt this thing draining energy from me. What else could that be
but a vampire?�
�Well then,� Vanhook murmured as he slipped his notebook into the inside
pocket of his jacket, �I guess all
the garlic on your spice rack will have to go.� As far as he was
concerned, this interview was over.
�Excuse me?�
� You are a person with a pre-existing belief system. You seem to be
labeling the spirit of Julia a vampire
in accordance with such beliefs. Not very objective, and no one has ever
offered proof of Julia�s
existence.�
�And what exactly would you be willing to accept as proof?�
�Any kind of empirical evidence. All I�ve heard so far was a lot of crazy
talk.� Vanhook stood up and
began to walk back to his car when he turned around and added as an
afterthought: �by the way, thanks for
the words.�
The moon was a glossy scythe that hung low in the sky. Moonlight slivered
through a curtain of gnarled
trees and bathed the surrounding area in an icy blue glow. Vanhook looked
upwards, drew in a deep breath
and plodded along his way across a gravel road that would lead him back to
main street.
A hush fell over the wooded expanse. The only sound that could be heard
was the crunching of dead
leaves beneath the Vanhook�s feet. Suddenly, a faraway shriek broke the
silence. It echoed across the
forest and seemed amplified in comparison to the stillness of the night.
Vanhook stood still on trembling legs, listening and waiting, cautiously
alert. He felt as though he was
being followed - and not by a frail young girl obsessed with Christopher
Lee movies.
Something rustled in the trees overhead. In the weak moonlight, a vague
shape flittered about the
Branches.
Mr. Vanhook�s heart slammed against his chest and he began to run uphill
in a desperate attempt to
get back into the city. Sky turned to earth as he tumbled down into the
area beneath him.
Something cold and hard smashed against the reporter�s temple and the
world went black.
In the morning, the cemetery�s caretaker found Mr. Vanhook�s body at the
base of a four foot high slab of
marble which bore the simple inscription: �Here lies Julia Camp�.