I wonder if I haven’t spent too much time hanging out with vampires lately. Not the flesh and blood kind, of course, but rather the sort that come to life inside that scary place I call my mind. They may be figments of my overactive imagination, but they’re no less real to me. Still, I usually know the difference between my imaginary vampires and the people I see on the street. Not so much recently. Now everywhere I go, I see undead people.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary to run into flesh-eating zombies or bloodthirsty vampires while wandering through a Wal-Mart or Waffle House late at night. I once even ran into a woman who looked suspiciously like a werewolf in mid-transition. She was wearing short pants, exposing a thick pelt of dark fur on her legs, and almost as much on her upper lip. But I used to take comfort in the fact that the scary percentage of the population keeps to the shadows. They’re not supposed to aimlessly roam the streets like a pack of Girl Scouts selling cookies.

So where are they coming from?

Just today, at the salon, there was a guy who could have been auditioning for a part in Tales of the Daywalkers, the movie (I wish! Just saying…). He was channeling Sebastian. And he totally looked the part.

He even seemed to be willing to bite me.

I was tempted…I admit it. But as drawn to the idea as I was, I figured I’d better not. You just never know where his fangs have been. You know what I mean? Besides, my husband probably would have been really pissed off. Guys don’t appreciate vampires biting their wives.

Oh well…too bad.

I have vampires of my own anyway. And if I really think about it, I might have to admit that it could just be my subconscious reminding me I need to stay home for the rest of the weekend and work on this week’s Daywalkers. I know a few people who might stalk me for real if I don’t get it done.

You know who you are!

Until the next time…I’ll be buckling down to finish week 8!