Transylvanian Standoff

Writing down her thoughts about what happened last year wasn’t as easy as she had hoped. She couldn’t hold back the tears when she wrote about Luka — the way he smiled and laughed at silly things.

They’d fall to her page, blurring the ink from her pen. Something she would have cared about before, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how he never really cared about things like that, his handwriting looking like a cross between a doctor’s and a werewolf’s

A little-known fact: werewolves are known for their surprisingly beautiful handwriting. No one is quite sure why, but the full moon rises and the fountain pens come out.

The werewolf picked a fountain pen off the tree, and wrote some lovely poetry. A vampire came across the werewolf and thought to himself, a lunch for free. His fangs watered at the thought.

The vampire pounced, but the werewolf, having spied the blood-sucker out of the corner of his eye, was ready for the attack. The two rolled on the forest floor, snapping, clawing, snarling. Suddenly they stopped, each had the other's arm in their own jaws. "Uh oh," they moaned.

They'd have to break free before dawn or risk certain death. They lay there, growling softly. As sun rays pierced the stalemate, they let go at the same time. "This isn't over," vampire snarled. "I know," said werewolf. Both knew that in one lunar cycle this would all end.