It seemed some unlaughable irony that the public only appeared to fear the living. Each day, parents witnessed the departure of their children before the sun even rose into the sky, wondering somewhere in the back of their minds if they would be able to witness their safe return. School shootings seemed to be on everyone’s mind. Gang violence certainly wasn’t unheard of. Wearing the wrong combination of colors could get your head blown off. Yet, they were unaware of how close such adolescents trailed to an even darker fate. One much more gruesome, and rarely instantaneous. Or even how close they wandered to that fate themselves, perhaps on the walk home from work or in the time that it took to get from the car into the house to hide behind an illusion of safety.

Camdin had never discovered an appeal in the maiming of children or even teenagers. What was the point, really, of tearing apart a creature who was both without experience and defense? There was no fight, no struggle, just the immediate overtaking of desperation and fear. Where was the fun in that? She enjoyed victims who had a little bit more stamina. Someone who made an attempt to endure her tortures. It made breaking their will and ending their desire to live all the more pleasurable.

She had not come to Matheson High School to prey on the students. She had come to prey on the adults.

Mildly, she watched the many different groups slam their car doors and start towards the entrance to the large gymnasium. The parking lot continued to fill, admitting an increasing number of onlookers, who had come to watch that night’s spectacle-an event known as a basketball game, an amusement which had very primitive origins. The purpose of such a competition had not precisely increased in its appeal. It still remained the product of idiocy after all these years.

The vampiress had scaled one of the tall walls about half an hour prior, emerging upon the unslanted rooftop, where she now observed. Standing near the edge, she continued to contemplate the buffet of victims parading before her, attempting to decide who’s death would have the greatest emotional impact. Who’s death would be the most horrific. A principal, maybe? A coach? A supportive mother? They were so easy to pick out from the others, each having their own story, each with their own influence. It was just a matter of which had the greatest appeal, the one she felt would greater satisfy her appetite.

One thing she knew for certain. Someone would be dead by the night’s end.