My eyes are but orbs of their former selves.
How am I seeing?
What do I smell?
Is it blood?
Dracula’s or my own?
He clutches me and ravishes me.
It is satisfyingly delicious.
A wolf howls.
Wait.
Is that me?
Oooooooh! Oooooooh!
I am shameless.
A wench desiring her demon lover.
The howling continues.
Dracula rears back his face and stares at me.
We are both delighted.
It is more than enough.
More a big death than a little death.
He continues to feed.
I tingle from my orbs to my skele-toes.
Halloween came exactly in time this year.
Gargoyle Dog with his sharp angry claws
Hooded Skeleton sat on a throne of skele-raws.
They had borrowed Grim Reaper’s murdering scythe.
The better to kill trick-or-treaters and others with.
Ebony raven flew past, terrified of this seasonal pair.
Skeleton thrones made of HS’s brothers put evil in the air.
His leering toothy grin encouraged a pronounced sense of horror.
Graveyard was ominous tonight; a vampire would adore her.
Hooded Skeleton sprouts heavy dark devil’s wings; terrible ghoul.
Waiting in the dark for an unsuspecting, optimistic young fool.
An idiot who will think it’s fun to tease the undead on Halloween night.
If he has a thimble of sense he will quickly take a look and die of fright.
Can I scare one if it walks by? Gargoyle Dog asks hopefully.
Hell no, Hooded Skeleton replies. What are you – dope-fully?
If one comes by, I’ll murder them slowly, take all the blame.
Gargoyle Dog began sharpening his claws in case no one else came.