John loved to wander in the woods during the summer. Pitching a tent for a few days wasn’t unusual.

A soon as the sun started to sink beneath the trees, he set up camp on this warn July evening. He laid inside the tent and listened to the crickets serenade him.

About an hour later John was deafened by how quiet it got. He peeked is head out of the flap, and couldn’t remember a night so dark. The gentle breeze picked up to a chilly wind.

A high-pitched sound came from over head. John grabbed his flashlight and aimed it toward the sky. A colony of bats circled the tent. He wasn’t one to be afraid, but didn’t like the looks of it.

Lightning flashed, and he caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye. It appeared to be walking toward him. Before he could back under cover, his arms were grabbed and he was dragged from the tent.

John woke up to see a blond-haired woman looking down at him.

“Welcome back,” she smiled.

He struggled to whisper, “Where am I?”

“The hospital,” she pulled his blanket up. “You were attacked.”

She turned on the radio beside his bed while she went to get the doctor. A report come on about an attack two nights ago. John wondered if it was about him. It was the fifth attack in a month. The four others resulted in the victim’s death.

The doctor came over and read his chart. He looked closely at John’s neck, gently pushing his head side to side.

“Keep an eye on him,” he said to the nurse. He turned to John, “You’ll be all right.”

Before he left the room, he gave John a half smile revealing a bright pointed tooth.

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