by J.M. Faulkner
Pale-skinned girl runs. Pale-skinned girl trips. Pale-skinned girl shields her eyes from the streetlamp that throws a shadow on my shoulders.
“Please, d-don’t hurt me.”
Sigh… If we elders didn’t cull the young, vampires would spill onto the streets like mice. There wouldn’t be an ounce of blood to share.
I tell her, “We purge annually. Your sire should have kept you safe.”
She winces. Tiny fangs protrude over her trembling bottom lip. “Sire didn’t warn me.”
“Then he wants you dead as much as—”
A stake in my chest.
She says, “Now the young purges the old.”
J.M. Faulkner is a British English teacher living in Prague, Czech Republic. It is the perfect place for him to steep himself in the architecture and tumultuous history that fuels his curiosity. Outside of work, you can find him hiking in splendid, Bohemian forests with his beagle.
My work has been published by Black Hare Press, Liquid Imagination, Havok Publishing, Trembling with Fear, and The Drabble.