the vampire’s house was dark
whenever veronica walked past
except on tuesdays
when a yellow light shone in the upstairs window
nobody believed in the vampire any more
after the hard-hitting expose in the weekly gazette
boys had stopped throwing stones at the house
and change was in the air
a few despondent acolytes remained
but their energy was at a low ebb
father bill, the fighting exorcist, had left town
on a gray afternoon just before thanksgiving
however veronica was not daunted
she had a burning intensity all her own
her juvenile record would remained unrevealed
by the kindly record keeper at the courthouse
a lady who herself had known ostracism
and had memories of vanished millennia
when necromancers ruled the earth and skies
and the orphans of baal and moloch walked the roads
the shadow of pluto has never left the town
the role of queen of darkness has yet to be filled
those who remember still hope for reward
in the snowy silence of the unbaptized winter
tomorrow is forever
to the initiated and the uninitiated alike
victory is just a word
but the wine of eternal death ages in the cellar of eternity
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