He woke up in the middle of the night. Felt a strong need to get out of bed which led him to the kitchen. He stopped by the fridge.
Hunger?
Opening the door, he heard a creak. He turned around and noticed a silhouette. A pale phantom, illuminated by the dim light from the refrigerator, smiled, revealing unnaturally long fangs.
Looking around in panic, he noticed a garlic sauce. Grabbed a bottle and, with trembling hands, aimed at the intruder. The sauce fired from the bottle splashed onto the vampire's face.
Nothing happened. The phantom grinned and grunted: “Artificial flavour”.
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alt="Timeliness by Stephen Sottong"
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width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="A Torso for Tomorrow by Randall Andrews"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="A Rip in Time by Andrew Kurtz"
class="motion-reduce"
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height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Tomorrow by B.G. Smith"
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loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>