Once upon a time, in a town called Shadow Hills, a lone werewolf howled on a full moon night. A tall, dark haired man walked down the dark street. He wore a red suit with a black tie, and his black hair was slicked back. He stopped at a brick house and knocked softly on the door. The door opened slowly and the man grinned. A figure stepped out of the darkness of the house. The man’s smile widened so that all of his teeth showed, and the moonlight gleamed off of his razor sharp fangs.
“Good Evening Mr. Doyle,” said the owner of the house with little bit of nervousness in his voice. Mr. Doyle just nodded; his smile had faded into a smirk as they walked inside. The inside of the house was dark, and only a few candles lit the dark hallway. They sat in a dimly lit room, and it was Mr. Doyle who finally spoke.
“Well Mr. Smith, there must be a reason you asked me to come so early in the night,” stated Mr. Doyle with a sly grin across his face, for he already knew why he had been invited.
“Mr. Doyle you probably are already aware that the witches are planning to overthrow the vampires and take over Shadow Hills,” replied Mr. Smith. Mr. Doyle sighed, but his facial expression remained the same.
Mr. Doyle had known the witch’s plans for weeks, and Mr. Doyle was actually amused. He thought the idea of the witches up against the vampires was foolish, and he seemed to know for a fact that the witches would never be able to gain enough power to defeat the vampires.
“Aren’t you worried Mr. Doyle?” asked Mr. Smith, confused. Mr. Doyle’s grin only widened.
“Of a few old ladies that ride on cleaning tools? Of course not,” Mr. Doyle laughed.
“They’re powerful magicians!” cried Mr. Smith worriedly.
“Yes but we have an army of bloodsucking devils with razor sharp teeth!” replied Mr. Doyle triumphantly. “Trust me, we have nothing to worry about. We’ll just warn the other vampires, ask a few more guards to take the day shift, and we’ll be fine.”
Mr. Doyle stood, straightened his suit, and began to walk away. Mr. Smith stayed seated, and did not follow Mr. Doyle to the door. The door clicked shut behind Mr. Doyle, and with a slight hesitation, Mr. Doyle began to walk back to his house. He began to walk quicker though because the sky was beginning to get lighter.
The next night, Mr. Doyle was walking down the street when off in the distance, he heard a faint laugh that belonged to a women. He had warned everyone about the witches earlier that night but hardly anyone really took him seriously. He heard the laugh again. Though it could have been anyone’s laugh, Mr. Doyle had a sick feeling about this one. Just then, a huge firework exploded in the night sky. Five women on brooms appeared out of nowhere in the sky. One of laughed that sickly laugh that Mr. Doyle had heard earlier. Sirens blared, and bells rang. The head of the vampire guard was was soon at Mr. Doyle’s side.
“What do we do?” he asked.
“Round up all of the guards,” replied Mr. Doyle. “And make sure all of the other vampires stay in their houses.”
Mr. Doyle tried as hard as he could to stay calm and not worry, but the truth was, he knew how powerful the witches were with their magic. He looked back up at the sky only to see more witches flying around. Just then, all of the witches were diving straight down towards Shadow Hills. Mr. Doyle realised that he was just standing there; he pulled out his sword and ran toward the town square. The head vampire guard was already there with his vampire army. Mr. Doyle walked over to the statue of himself holding his sword in the center of the square and pulled the sword down. A compartment opened at the base of the statue, and pulled out a large box. The box was for emergencies; it held shields strong enough to reflect magic and gas masks. Mr. Doyle quickly passed out a gas mask and a shield to each of the guards, and since there was one gas mask left, he put one on himself. There wasn’t enough shields for Mr. Doyle to have one, but atleast he had a mask.
“Ready your weapons!” yelled Mr. Doyle. “Don’t let them get into the houses!”
Fifteen witches landed in front of Mr. Doyle and the army. Mr. Smith stepped up beside Mr. Doyle, but Mr. Doyle didn’t take his eyes off the witches. Mr. Doyle’s eyes were wild, and he wore a malicious grin. He was waiting for the witches to make the first move. He could hear Mr. Smith’s heavy breaths beside him. The witches were pacing back and forth in front of the vampires. Finally, Mr. Doyle got impatient. He whistled, and ran at the witches with the entire army behind him. The witches pointed their brooms at the army and fired. Men were dropping around Mr. Doyle, but he kept running. Mr Doyle, swinging his sword around like the madman he was, managed to take down three witches, but the witches were multiplying. Mr. Doyle let out a whoop of excitement as he took down another four witches. Dozens of witches had fallen, and they finally stopped multiplying. Mr. Doyle took down another three witches. A hand from behind grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him backwards so hard he fell to the ground and dropped his sword. Mr. Doyle scrambled to get up but he was being dragged by his shirt collar. Mr. Smith pinned him up against a brick wall.
“You pour pathetic fool,” snarled Mr. Smith.
Mr. Doyle couldn’t believe his eyes.
“What are you doing?” choked Mr. Doyle for Mr. Smith had his forearm pressed against his throat.
“The witches have offered me anything I want as long as I take down you,” said Mr. Smith in a low, malevolent voice that sent shivers up Mr. Doyle’s spine.
“You traitor,” spat Mr. Doyle.Mr. Doyle could see behind Mr. Smith that all of the other vampires were lying dead in the sun. The only thing that kept both of them alive was shade above them. Mr. glanced behind him. Mr. Doyle saw the tiniest bit of sadness flicker in Mr. Smith’s eyes, but Mr. Smith quickly replaced it with cold hateful eyes. Mr. Smith looked behind him again and Mr. Doyle used all of his strength to sink his teeth in to Mr. Smith’s neck and shove him into the sun. It would have worked except Mr. Smith pulled Mr. Doyle with him. Mr. Doyle tried desperately to pull free from Mr. Smith’s grasp, but it was no use. Both men caught on fire, and they both laid there burning in agony until they were nothing but a pile of ashes. The witches gave a sinister laugh as they flew away on their brooms.