The Only Way to Know for Sure

We set upon her as she slept, stake at the ready.

It drove into her heart, and the scream was nearly… human.

We almost lost our courage.

We didn’t. Because we couldn’t. We had work to do still.

Cut off the head, fill the mouth with garlic, and return it, face downward, to the pillow. The only way to know for sure.

We left the building, emptying a can of gasoline behind us, as the sun began to set. We set the blaze, work finally complete, and shared a private smile.

There shall be no more Twilight Books.

You’re welcome.

Glitterminator

The tanker truck behind him exploded, a ball of fire engulfing him, and for a moment he was gone, seemingly destroyed in the blast. He couldn’t have survived that. Nobody could. I was finally safe.

But a moment later, he walked out through the fire, flesh burned away to nothing, metallic skeleton revealed, and shambled impassively toward me, determined, murderous, unstoppable.

Machine.

As he walked out of the shade of a nearby building and into the sun, he glittered and shone beautifully in the sun, like an angel.

They should never have let Stephanie Meyer write the new Terminator flick.