Trembling, I approached the coffin. The suffocating smell of death and decay hung heavy in the room.

I gripped the wooden stake tightly, willing my hands to stop shaking.

The vampire within lay motionless, but I could feel the evil energy radiating from its body.

I raised the stake above my head and plunged it into its chest.

The creature's eyes flew open, red like burning coals. It began to laugh, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth.

Why didn't it work?? The priest said it would work!

"He lied" the creature rasped, reading my thoughts, and lunged for my throat.

Every year on their anniversary he would buy flowers;

A dozen begonias, her favorite.

He would book a table at the same restaurant;

Italian, small and quiet.

Year after year it was the same perfect night.

He would arrive first, flowers in hand;

"Jones table for two".

A bottle of Barolo and the chicken piccata;

Tiramisu for dessert.

Year after year they remembered.

On the 50th anniversary he arrived, flowers in hand.

"Hello Mr. Jones, table for two?"

He smiled sadly, and pulled from his satchel;

A framed portrait of his wife.

"Jones, table for one".

She gazes at him

Her beautiful baby boy

Too pure for the world

A beaming toddler

Happy, bright and curious

Mother's pride and joy

He tries to make friends

But they say "he's too different"

Her heart breaks for him

In with the wrong crowd

She watches him from afar

Scared for her baby

Silently she cries,

Eyes locked on the gray headstone

Three words: Gone too soon

Bloodcurdling screams pierce the night

Followed by howls of rage and aggression

A full moon is out, illuminating the carnage below

Fighters circle each other, lithe yet deadly

Poised on the balls of their feet, ready to strike

Weapons clash and axes swing in deadly arcs

Houses and boats are ablaze, and the smell of burning pitch hangs heavy in the air

But it is nothing compared to the foul stench of blood, guts, and dying men

Women and children slip and slide in the mud and gore as they scramble to escape

But no one is safe from the massacre

He awoke as he did every day: cursing the gods for the most useless superpower of all time. He slipped out of bed quietly, so as not to disturb his wife, made his way into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. As it warmed, he noticed in the mirror that a large pimple was growing on his nose. With some concentration he positioned the head between his index fingers and squeezed them together. He could feel the pressure release and a spurt of mustard painted his mirror. He let out a sigh and stepped into the shower.

Midway through shampooing, he realized that he had forgotten to urinate. He aimed towards the drain and out came a steady stream of lemon vinaigrette. His wife would not be happy about that, he thought.

After showering he lathered his face up with shaving cream and began gliding the razor across his cheeks. Rushing through the process, he slipped and a small cut formed across his neck. Ketchup welled up from the wound which he quickly wiped away.

It was summertime and the trees were blooming. This meant his allergies were at an all time high. He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose, emptying the thick honey mustard that clogged his nasal cavities. Discarding the tissue he returned to the bedroom to get dressed.

His wife was now awake and motioned for him to get in bed. She was always good at making him feel better, at least for a while. Things were heating up and he reached for the Costco pack of Trojans that he kept on the nightstand...

Some time later, he was buttoning up his shirt, lost in thought and gazing at the discarded, mayonnaise-filled rubber at the bottom of the trash bin. Suddenly his wife rushed into the room urging him to turn on the television.

Scenes of chaos met his eyes as the news anchors showed clip after clip of towns being destroyed by aliens.

"This just in! A species of semi intelligent creatures has invaded earth! They have dropped a giant hot dog on New York City and millions are dead. Their only demands are that we humans provide condiments for this wondrous wiener. Due to the global food shortage, we do not have enough to supply them. They are unleashing their anger upon us. We fear that this could lead to the extinction of the human race if something is not done soon."

Condiment man's eyes widened and he began to smile. It was his time to shine.

This girl I liked was a smoker

She texted me "Come play strip-poker ;)"

I thought for a time,

Then had to decline

I didn't know how to play poker

No one really knew when my baby brother started to float.

My mom swears it was the time she was feeding him peas. He had knocked them on the floor, and after going to get a paper towel to clean it up, she returned to see him floating a few inches above his highchair, giggling gleefully.

Dad says that it happened first in the middle of the night. He went to check on my brother only to find him suspended above his crib, still sleeping peacefully as he revolved in slow circles.

I remember it as the time we were playing in the sandbox. I had just built the perfect sand castle, complete with four walls and a moat that wrapped around the entire thing. All of the sudden he started to rise above the sand, bobbing and tipping until he crashed down right in the middle of my creation.

The funny thing is, none of us thought of it as odd. It was just something that he did. He couldn't float more than a few inches off of whatever surface he was on, so there was no reason to tell anyone else. They would just make a big deal about it and "whisk him away to perform experiments" as my mom always said.

This is the way it has been for the last 8 years. He couldn't really control it and it doesn't happen very often anymore so we all just kind of pushed it to the backs of our minds. But now things have changed.

It was the night before school started and I was fast asleep, dreaming of seeing all of my friends and starting my first year of middle school. All of the sudden there was an agonizing scream and I awoke to my brother pinned to the ceiling above me.

His eyes were rolled into the back of his head and he was flailing around helplessly. Saliva flew from his mouth and he was breathing in huge rattling gasps. I had never seen him float so high and I was terrified, unable to comprehend what was happening.

He screamed once more and then his eyes snapped into focus, locking onto mine.

"He has a hold of me Max", my brother breathed in a terrified whisper. "He said he has blessed me with a gift and now it is time to come and show him my gratitude."

His eyes were wide with fear and I could tell he was struggling, trying to move his arms and legs but they remained splayed out on my ceiling.

Hundreds of questions were racing through my mind but before I could ask any of them, he jerked violently to the right and slammed against my wall. We were both screaming now as he skidded across the ceiling and crashed into the other wall.

He continued to be whipped around my room, as if he was a puppet attached to terrible, invisible strings. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head again, but his screams were still coming nonstop. His shirt had torn in the back and blood streaked my ceiling.

Finally he was returned to his original position above my bed.

His breathing was ragged and his arms and legs were dangling down towards me.

I reached up to try and grab him but stopped when he opened his eyes.

"Don't let him take me" he pleaded weakly, and started to sink into the ceiling as if it was a pool of liquid. He reached out to me, but before I could do anything he was pulled fully under and disappeared from sight.