VAMPIRE DREAMS: WOLFKILLER
by Frank Yao, 1995
fyao@calum.csclub.uwaterloo.ca


It must have been an hour after sunrise, but Red was still afraid to
fall asleep.  The dream still haunted him.  He ran a tired hand along
the plastic garbage bag he used to cover the hole in his coffin, the
hole the dream caused.  He hated the dream.  It seemed to mock him
whenever he closed his eyes.  But the call of sleep was too strong,
the sinister laughter of the Sandman too irresistible.  And so he
slept in fear and dreamt with trembling... dreamt of a day in the
woods..

Red... his friends called him that because that was his favourite
colour, a nice compliment to his jet black hair.  Of course, he would
be wearing red in his dream, a red beret, like the Guardian Angels.  A
red beret and nothing else..

He looked around, his whole body erect with fear.. every noise making
him jump as he tried to follow the path..  He could sense eyes
watching him from every side... Eyes full of hatred... Then the eyes
became bodies, blocking his path, creatures with stories to
tell... creatures of the night before vampyres knew her embrace... 

The pack leader came forward, sniffing the air, snarling, "And what
are you doing in this part of the woods?  There are no grannies here
for you to take your cookies to.."

Red cringed, wolves they were, their eyes told of a tale with Lestat,
the Consort of the Great Queen, Lestat, the Brat Prince..  Lestat,
their slayer on that winter's day in France..  and they could smell
Lestat's blood in Red...

Red, whose last words before the pack leapt were, "Grandma, what big
teeth you have..."  Red, who started up, crashing through the
coffin... and this morning.. through his shallow grave into the
sunlight...