A vampiric poem!

Everyone's making a fuss!

Oh, everyone's making a fuss! Hiding their necks, and whispering hex, as if they were more than us.

They shriek: "They float! They bite! They drink!" white drama fit for stage. A gothic tale, all cloak and pale, like they're some ancient sage.

But listen close, and take their hands, and don't just scream or run... Just lead them gently through the mist and show them to the sun!

No need for stakes, or silver blades, or sacred holy verse... Just one clear sky, a sunrise high, and nature does the curse!

So I let them dread the undead plight, with fear that's old and musty... While I sip tea, and hum a tune, and wipe off ashes... Ew... Dusty.

       Day 24, Month 9 (Eleint), 186 AR
       ''Felix Pendrake''