Fungal Halo

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My date was such a relentlessly spooky bitch, but I was enjoying myself enough to accept an invitation to her place.

She was, after all, hot as hell, and while I couldn’t place her accent right away, I found it somehow irresistible.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the way her place had all the curtains drawn, even at night, or the way the decor looked like it was pillaged from some ancient, haunted castle.

She was certainly committed to her aesthetic.

But it was the coffin on one end of her bedroom that had me saying, “alright, Dracula, I get it.”

She froze in place, somehow becoming even paler than she already was.

“How did you know?” She hissed the words, grimacing.

“That you’re into vampires?” I gestured around me.

“It’s cool! I’m into it. It’s just…kinda intense is all.”

My date relaxed a bit. “Ah. You did not mean it literally. Why would you? Everyone knows he’s been dead for over a century.”

I was confused. “Wait. Are you for real?”

She bared her fangs, and I realized the vampire shtick might not be just a goth thing. “Wait, Dracula’s real too?”

“He was real enough until I killed him, darling, but that’s not a story everyone needs to know.” She sat on the bed and beckoned to me.

I joined her. How could I not?

If I tilted my head to offer easier access to my neck, why, who could blame a girl for craving that bite?

She was a hot, goth, Transylvanian babe, and I was all too eager for her to show me what it was like to abandon my humanity with her.