"Tell me again what we're doing out here in the middle of the night?"
"Hunting leprechauns."
Shannon twisted toward Eric from her seat on the hood of his parent's 1989 Impala, digging her hands deeper into the pockets of his letterman's jacket. Beneath a full moon, the gnarled branches of Shebangee Forest cast shadows between them...
I'm a dog!
I can't believe it. I'd pinch myself, but my thumbs are gone. This just can't be happening - must be a bad dream. Except it doesn't feel like a dream.
Where am I? This isn't my house. Doesn't smell right. Smell right! What am I saying?
Woof...
Whilst lying on an autopsy table, motionless but conscious and in some sort of cataleptic state, American journalist Gregory (Jean Sorel) recalls how he was desperately searching for his missing girlfriend Mira (Barbara Bach) in Prague, when he fell foul of a mysterious order of social elites who thrive on the 'life essence' of the younger generation. As he relays his story, he attempts to solve his own 'murder' before it is too late and the surgeons begin performing their autopsy on his still warm body...
I don't usually play with my food, but I had to admit I was rather enjoying the look of terror on his face. Soon he would be begging for his life, but I would not spare it. I had come to terms with my existence (I never call what I have a "life" any more). The bitterness. The loneliness. The insatiable thirst for blood. I learned to survive on the blood of animals. Livestock makes for easy meals and as long as I don't kill them I can feed indefinitely. It had been decades since I had harmed a human. Until tonight...
I have a confession. I've overslept on Dan Simmons and I feel terrible and deprived... I'm very excited about his latest novel Black Hills, and Drood beckons me from my shelf at home with an intimidating presence and cover. There's going to be a lot of Dan Simmons reading going on in this guy's house from now on, I assure you of that...
This girl, who I had never seen before, she was coming into the 7-11 where I worked the midnight shift. She just walks in out of the darkness, no car, no nothing. Never seen someone just walk up like that, and I've been wasting three nights a week in this joint for over a year...
Caitlin's mum was one of those people who didn't care much for life. That was partly what made it easier for the six-year-old, to watch when she drank the poison...
