Vampire in the Camp©

Online Vampire Stories

Written by American Author Sky Taylor

The night was engulfed with a thick wall of fog. Ron and Dave could barely make out the tent they had erected mere hours ago, shortly before nightfall.

The crescent of a moon wasn't any help nor were the two flashlights they'd brought along. Another thirty minutes and the batteries would be expended.

The leaves on the forest floor crunched beneath their hiking boots and their warm breath met the chill in the air as they spoke to one another, their campsite not far in the distance.

"I don't know how sane this trip was, Dave." Ron paused to eye the crescent moon, then continued, "Glad that isn't a full moon. It's spooky enough without the thought of a werewolf to contend with."

Dave laughed lightly. "It is a bit spooky out. Maybe we should just pack up our things and call it a night?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak but was halted as Dave stopped in the trail. He suddenly extended his arm and in the process, halted Ron as well.

"Hey, what's wrong, dude-"

"Sshh," Dave ordered, the beam of his flashlight going completely dead.

Ron narrowed his eyes then veered them in the direction of Dave's sudden interest, the campsite.  

He shivered as the howl of a wolf sounded from within the forest and he had an urge to get a bit closer to Dave, but he fought that whelm, not wanting to appear intimidated.

Through the fog in the distance, a misted silhouette slowly materialized before Ron. The tip of the tent, the pickup truck resting behind the tent, the foldable chair…and someone sitting there, inside the chair.

"Looks like we have a visitor in the camp," Ron eased out, amazed that his teeth weren't chattering. It was quite cold for an October night.

"Correction. We've got a vampire, Ron - a bona fide vampire."

"Hum, I think you're right," Ron echoed, the outline of the stranger in question becoming clearer as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He could make out the cape even from this distance.

"Okay, sissy britches, what now?" Dave eased out, lowering his arm, his gaze never leaving the vampire in the distance. Before Ron could form a response, he tacked on, "What the devil does he want anyway?"

"Well, I'm sure he didn't come to the camp to share ghost stories and bad chili," Ron mocked in a sarcastic voice. "Only two things we can do. One, return to the woods and let him hunt us down like unarmed sheep, or two, race to the truck, grab the stakes, the sledge and the garlic." Ron paused to glance at Dave. "Well? Your call, my man."  

On the count of three Ron and Dave barreled towards the tent, the truck, and the vampire like two steeds on a wild uncharted steeplechase - hearts in their throats, their minds focused on grabbing the tools of their trade - the stakes, the sledge, the garlic.

A shaft of light ignited as Dave and Ron jumped into the back of the truck, the vampire materializing before them. The stakes, the sledge and the garlic were just out of reach. 

They gazed up at the vampire, eyeing the cape, the fangs, and the long manicured nails.

This was the beginning of the end - no way out. The vampire had a look of madness attached across his face.

Dave and Ron fell back a bit as the vampire held out a hand that contained a small jar smeared with a yellow concoction. "Do you have any Grey Poupon?" he asked, to which both Dave and Ron fainted.

The vampire twitched his lips impatiently, then eased out, "It's getting harder and harder to get good mustard these days."

Then he swooped up into the sky, blending into the night in search of that little yellow difference that tends to make a vampire's world just a bit brighter….

 

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