vampires, vampire stories, vampire hunter

Vampire Stories

vampires, vampire stories, vampire hunter

Female Ghost Stories

Male Ghost Stories

Ghosts of the Past

Ghost Stories Today

Ghost Stories - Future

Ghost Stories

The Vampire & The Cowboy

Beauty is Only Skin Deep

 The Old Bat

Please Won't You be My Neighbor

Code of the Fang

Vampire Article Vault

Mirror Image

Beauty is Only Skin Deep

The Old Bat

Please Won't You be My Neighbor

Code of the Fang

Fashion Statement - Vampires

Pretty In Pick

Vampire Online

Oh, My Aching Fang!

The Rat Within

Vampire Show-Stopper

Widow Maker

The Crying Veil

The Haunted House

Blood on the Snow, a Vampire Story

A historical gothic suspense written by Sky at Dawn's Sky Taylor

Set in the Mid-1800's


‘I’ve read that one. And this. This book too,’ Mary softly murmured to herself as she riffled through the gothic section, hoping to find something to read for the evening.

The library was quickly becoming depleted of her preferred reading material - gothic mysteries. That was the disadvantage of a small library - at least in comparison to those in the east where hundreds if not thousands of books lined massive walls.

There wasn’t time to study the matter further as a sudden rush herald her attention, a beautiful young woman approximately her own age stopping only a step in front of her - the lovely face pinched, pale and looking quite aghast.

Raven hair, pale skin, generous red lips - a calico cape tied around her long, thin neck.

Mary saw a flash of red as the woman pocketed an item in one of the shelves, and then she turned towards her, running the dark eyes up and down Mary’s trim form.

“Do you believe in vampires?”

Her breath was rushed, laced with fear - appearing almost terror-stricken. Or so Mary decided.

“Vampires? What an odd question,” she managed, her blue eyes a bit wider than before the question. “I can say that I enjoy a good book on vampires.”


“If only you knew…”

“Wait! Come back here - please!” Mary called out after the retreating form but it was too late as the woman vanished as quickly as she had arrived.

Mary had followed her around the shelving, and it was as if she had disappeared into thin air.

The encounter was odd. Odd and disturbing.

Nonetheless, it was difficult to get the incident out of her thoughts.

She hoped the woman would be okay; she certainly had appeared quite stressed…as if in great mental anguish.

It was very near to closing time, Ms. Theodore’s whiney voice passing through the corridors of shelves and reminding everyone of such.

Mary collected her purse and satchel from the wooden planked flooring, something red collecting her attention as she rose with the items in hand.

Red. The pocketed book.


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