A child, consumed by impulsive anger and frustration, opened the doors. He shouted for his mother to kill them as the vampires slowly milled in with a confident strut. My last thought was turning around to run. Shuffling of feet, frantic swinging of arms, contorted torsos. Then it was done.

Separately, I saw myself in a cinema lobby with other people, but outside vampiric children looked in through the glass doors. They could not enter was they were not invited in. The skin, and even their clothes, were a saturated grey and their figures fully illuminated by a street light.