This is another piece, this time a piece of poetry, that I wrote with vampires in mind for the Sanctuary magazine. It is the first poetry I have written in ages, which is quite strange, as when I started writing I was a poet first and foremost.... It is predicatably gothic..... She Walks..... She walks in beauty through the night, Her face emits a ghostly light. The cloak, a shining carapace, Then she is gone without a trace. She walks in silence through the graves, The lovely face, that slays, not saves, The cloak, a fragile carapace, Hides her dark secret from this place. She walks in search through the town The moonlight glinting on her gown, The cloak, a deathly carapace, To cover her rapacious face. She walks in pursuit through the gate, He knows now that it is too late, Her cloak, a spider carapace, Reveals to him her preying face. She walks in victory though the wood Slowly then lets fall the hood The cloak, a tattered carapace Hides no more the bloodstained face. She walks in beauty through the night, Her face emits a ghostly light. The cloak, a shining carapace, Then she is gone without a trace.