The littlest vampire had always loved the sea. The moon shone in dappled freckles across its shifting surface; reflecting back a light from the sun that he could no longer see. Something about the beckoning call of the crashing waves seeped into his soul and pulled at his heart strings. The littlest Vampire was lonely. Normal children did not suffer the blood lust, they could play in the sun without the itchy scratch of imminent disintegration. They still had parents, the littlest vampire had eaten his a long time ago. Darkness was his only friend now. When the clock struck midnight every evening he would creep excitedly through the streets of the nearby village, skulking in doorways and under bridges until he reached the white shore. His little bucket clunked against his leg, the hollow plastic sound penetrating the silence. Under the soft moon light he sculpted sand castles, chased crabs along the sand, struck with his supernatural reflexes at the fish that swam underneath his feet. In sudden fits of elation he bounded, jumped and twirled across the beach, kicking large clumps of sand up with his clumsy feet as he went. Tottering slightly he span around and around in a moon beam, reaching out his chubby little fingers to the sky to grasp as the moths that danced in the light. A large purple specimen floated down ethereally to land on his outstretched index finger. It flapped its huge wings, tickling the Littlest Vampire’s hand. He wondered what it would be like to fly, the soar away into the night like the bats that hung upside down in his cave. He’d tried to fly once and give himself a headache with the effort and crashed into a trailing wall of ivy that dripped over the local haunted house. The butterfly took off suddenly, its juddering movements flicking his colour through the air. The Littlest Vampire chased him, his feet pounding across the sand. One foot got caught in the other and he stumbled, flying through the air, arms outstretched. He landed with a thump on the soft ground, his face buried in the sand. Spluttering he propped himself up on his elbows to rub the dirt from his eyes. Two little feet stood in front of him, slightly turned inwards with chipped pink nail varnish over spilling onto the skin of the toes. The Littlest Vampire raised his head slowly, if he had any blood left in his undead body he would have blushed. A little girl stood before him, dressed in a white frilly nighty. The hem was dirty and a little wet from walking through the surf, her black ringletted hair coiled like Medusa’s around her, framing her startling green eyes in her pale face. In her hands, she grasped a bucket and spade. The Littlest Vampire looked at her, suddenly afraid; he’d heard stories of pitch forks and bonfires. What if this little human tattled on him? Humans were mean creatures and the Littlest Vampire was scared of their fear. The girl slowly reached down to put her bucket on the floor and stood inspecting him with an understanding look. She tilted her head a little to one side and smiled, a bright, brilliant white smile that showed off her young vampire fangs. The Littlest Vampire smiled too, suddenly filled with elation. She reached out a small hand, slightly blue and veined, he could see the dried blood underneath her finger nails. Reaching up he clasped her little fingers with his and allowed himself to be pulled upright. The Littlest Vampire and his new companion gazed at each with a look that only the creatures of the damned understand. Picking up their respective buckets they walked away hand in hand across the beach, off into the moonlight.