Shadows shift as I walk in the twilight,
Movement just below my line of sight.
The creature stalks me again,
A stranger alone with not a friend.
Sense of fear feeds its drive,
Will I make it out alive?
It knows my weaknesses,
Longs for the taste of flesh,
Is my crimson cloak my final dress?
My hand touches cold steel,
It makes me numb, I can not feel.
The creature crotches,
Prepared to strike,
A spray of bullets it must fight.
Deafening sounds fill the air,
The wounded creature retreats to its lair.
In pursuit, I take hasty flight,
The creature's death will be this night.
Cornered it can flee not more,
A silver bullet is what is in store.
A final shot, through its chest,
The creature's finally laid to rest.
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