In this story, vampires are not pretty. They are not sexy. They are loathsome, diseased Nosferatu-type things that savage into your neck. They don’t kiss. They tear through your flesh in hunger that originates at the cellular level.
The idea for the story came from my research into HeLa cells mentioned in my last post. Immortal cultures, immortal beings; however deformed and loathsome as they might be. The hard part was having the science to be satisfactorily plausible. The ending , of course, is always a challenge; you can just walk in and stab the vampire with a wooden stake anymore and call it a day anymore, can you?
Right now the word count is about 5200 words, which a bit longer than I like my short stories to be, but I’m sure that will fluctuate by few hundred words in the course of the editing process.