It was a dark and stormy night when Dracula met his end.
I’m still sketchy on the details, but I do remember leaving the bar and walking along the waterfront. Well, I say walking, but it was probably more like stumbling if my knees are any indication. I had been to my brother’s bachelor party, and unfortunately, for me and Dracula, when I party I really party.
I have no recollection of the actual event, but people say Dracula swooped in and bit me when I tripped over a lose board. They watched him do his business and then leave me in a heap. What everyone found most shocking was that when Dracula started to walk away, he was staggering.
Accounts report that he kept trying to take flight, but couldn’t seem to get it together enough to do more than shamble along. Everyone watched, astonished, when he drew close to the end of the pier. With only a few feet left, he started running. People assume he was getting a head start to rise and fly off into the night, but things didn’t quite go as planned. Instead, Dracula jumped and promptly fell.
Unbeknownst to him, a portion of the pier had been damaged in a recent storm. A few posts were broken in half, leaving jagged spikes in their place.
Dracula fell on one such spike.
The newspapers are all abuzz with the demise of our most feared resident. I read them and I laugh. I know it won’t be long until they find my first victim.