Monsters stirred on Devil’s Night. The ivory white of the full moon shone on tombstones as plentiful as pumpkins in a pumpkin patch. The monstrous roar of the Jackal signaled it found its victim for breeding. Bent over the ancient gravestone, Vampire Drusilla moaned her pleasure song.

Her lavender dress, clawed away. Her raven hair, wrenched back by the fistful. Tonguing the points of her fangs, Drusilla’s bountiful breasts swayed. Her bulbous ass bounced back on the Jackal’s girthy meat.

The vampire’s bladed fingernails raked the faded words chiseled into stone.

‘Here lies daughter & beloved mother, Drusilla Wells, 1821-1846’