Seaside Town Of Vampires.

My holiday takes me to a resort for which Ihave distant but fond memories of innocent
pleasures and fine bars. I wander the littered streets until I find my favourite cantina, now flyblown and murky. The proprietor fails to recognise me, and I order a coffee.Sitting outside in the an sunlight I am depressed by the changes that have taken place in this once beautiful seaside town. Many shops are boarded up, the youth seem preoccupiedwith the dusty ground, and the cinema has been transformed into a seemingly unpopular bingo hall. Worst of all are the diminutive vampires who bawl along the promenade biting the legs of passers-by. The only way to deal with these pointy-toothed parasites is to kick them viciously into the quay, I entertain myself morosely in this way for about half an hour, sustaining only slight scratches from the fangs of these riviera nosferatu. Things are not what they used to be around here. The thought reminds me uncomfortably of my ageing body, and my own repressed desire
to live vicariously the lives of others. I realise that although I can understand the sad plight of the vampires, I cannot resist the urge to kick them, flailing, into the grey
ocean. I return to my room, and sit at the window.

If there were an observer, I imagine that they
might see the cloud-scattered evening sky,
reflected in my dark pupils.