Destiny West had been walking around High Woods Country Park, pretending to watch the squabbling of the dusk birds, pretending to take in the scary silhouettes of oaks and ash, listening for the hoots of owls and the iyk-iyk of bats. Her black velvet cloak clung to her arms and she sweated profusely with the hope of finding her prize.
When she gets to the shallow grave, she is more than grateful to shed her cloak and allow the moon beams to caress her skin.

DESTINY WEST: (stripping down to her fishnet top she takes out her army surplus trench-digging spade) Such a fresh dig. Maybe it's true. Maybe....

She didn't want to think why she was doing this. Wasn't sure why she was playing the game. Who on earth would follow instructions received in a letter deposited in her PO Box? She was quite wet and flush but that could just be the adrenaline inflamed rush of blood and mucus to her vital parts.

DESTINY WEST: (the spade reveals the slashed neck of the corpse) There it is. Could this be the wasted body of Hertzan Chimera? Just like he said it would be?

Destiny West looks about, her forehead begins to sweat. A line of sweat rolls down over her left eyebrow. The sweat rolls down her left cheek and she tongues the salty bead as it passes the laughter lines of her mouth. She continues to dig until she reveals the corpse.

DESTINY WEST: (back home with her shrunken interviewer, unwrapped from a black bag) I wonder why he was killed. The man in the letter? I say man, he signed himself Jack Philbin. What is there but a name? Why am I talking to myself?

She realized then that she was damp with expectation. She had him now in her home. She had never had such perfect control over someone. She wondered what sort of questions this victim could have asked to have so angered someone? What was his voice like? She tried a voice on him.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (high pitched voice like Mickey Mouse) So, a writer, are you? Don't you find that a fucking chore? You sop?

DESTINY WEST: (slaps the fucker across the face, the jaw hangs at an odd angle) What's it to you, dead boy?

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (new voice sounds like nitric acid fizzing on flesh) Fiction. It's all about getting under the reader's skin, no?

DESTINY WEST: Being a writer's nothing like what you think. I have no control over myself; writing to me is like a primitive urge. I would describe it as 'channelling', I sit down and the words flow from me like I am a medium. A voice for those who have lived and died 'the horror.' Story telling is one of the oldest of mankind's art forms and I am carrying on that tradition. I wonder what stories you could tell me? (prizes open his mouth and toys with his tongue) I don't think I like any of your voices so far.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (false bass profundo) I do sound a bit wrong. Try something a bit more northern, you know. Like Doncaster. Sheffield. Nottingham, even. No, that's too far south. Something like Derby. Try me with a DERBY accent.

DESTINY WEST: You sound like Michael Parkinson.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: Are you flirting with me?

DESTINY WEST: (tongues his dirty eye) ... You know, I once had a boyfriend like you who never washed. I suppose he would have if I had unshackled him from my bed. Life in England is so different here compared to that in Australia. While I'm there I spend a fair bit of my time in this rural town that is like a cross between Lovecraft's 'Dunwich' and Lynch's 'Twin Peaks'. It's very inspirational. I love the Australian landscapes and skies. At night you can see millions of stars and not hear a thing, it's a place where the silence can be truly frightening. There's another town not far from there that has an old hospital for sale. It's been on the market now for a couple of years because of its reputation of being haunted. Apparently the walls and staircase are meant to bleed. The story goes that when they were shutting down the hospital, one nurse was left behind and she went about checking on things, making sure it was locked up properly. Well, she went inside of the morgue- which is this room on the second floor that you could only swing a cat in if you wanted to cave its head in. Naturally, in true horror tradition, the door slammed shut behind her, locking this young nurse inside. No one came back for her and she died in there and, it is her ghost that mainly haunts the hospital. I've been inside the place, it's a fantastic building and I intend to buy it. I could take you home with me, it would be wonderful to have an authentic corpse in the morgue. By the way, I just love the flavour of your eye; it tastes of all the depravity it has seen.

Destiny West moves over to sit next to him on the sofa and runs her long fingernails down his the papyrus flesh of his thigh.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: You are a corpse virgin, aren't you, D.W.?

DESTINY WEST: (starts to unbutton his blood stained shirt) Well it is the first time I have had to dig up my own. I hate getting my hands dirty, I get my minions to do my dirty work. However I do like my men stiff, and from the look of you, it was worth breaking a nail over. I have so many men offering themselves to me as sex slaves these days, and the majority of them do what I say without question. However they don't all have the stamina to properly satisfy me, so indulging in a touch of necrophilia can be rewarding for both parties involved. You can stay up all night, you won't moan of exhaustion; plus you get the added bonus of having me inflict delicate pleasures and pains upon your corpse. (fingers his neck wound) I do believe under the obvious suspiciousness of your death that your soul is still hanging around here and will probably feel everything I do to you.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: You like that voice you've given me? Why not come a little closer and whisper a secret in my rotten ear.

DESTINY WEST: (tongues his hairy inner ear and then nibbles on the lobe, then whispers hotly) My "sinspiration" comes from real life - the horrors are out there for real. We are all products of our environment. Some people are actually shocked and disgusted by what I write, it's like they believe a woman shouldn't have 'those kind of thoughts' or 'that kind of dark imagination.' I love it when the public responds like that to my writing, it's the reaction I crave. What gives men the monopoly on depravity? I have to admit that my best writing is done when under the furious grasp of PMS, because at those times all my anger and hatreds congeal together and release themselves in a pestilential torrent of sick writing. I absolutely love what I do, and it has always been my greatest desire to be a horror writer. I would also like to get more into film making. In fact, a UK film company are currently making a start on turning my first novel into a film, but it's a long process. It's called 'Lamia' and is about a female vampire, but don't worry it's not the usual cliché vampire story; nor it the deranged ramblings of a menopausal American who lost the plot when she stopped writing porn and took up writing horror stories. No, Lamia will finally bring vampirism into the 21st Century and hopefully scare the pants off you in the process. I mean let's face it, how long has it been since there has been a decent horror movie?

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (a rictus grin hacked across his rotting face) Everyone's done Vampires. Fuck, even I've done Vampires. Do yours get fat like ticks when they feed? Or are you of the blood-spiritual breed of Vampyre? What makes your Vampires any different from my Vampires from Rice's Vampires? And does anyone care anymore?

DESTINY WEST: (drags Hertzan's decaying pile of flesh on to her knee and caresses his sinewy backside) You really do have a nice arse, ChimCorpse but your voice still isn't right, perhaps if I… (Rams her fist up his anal passage) There you are… just like a ventriloquist's dummy, I think it will work better now. Where was I? (Squirms hand around inside of his bowels)
Vampires despiteous, Vampires black, Vampires in wood and Vampires in the Earth. My vampires have eyes. (giggles and squeezes Hertzan's intestines like a stress bal.) I think we are also beyond Rice's vampires. It's time to get past all these flouncy white frilly shirts, capes and bad Bela Lugosi impersonations. I mean what is it with New Orleans and vampires? I think the place has an interesting enough sub-culture with the voodoo; just because it has a few great cemeteries doesn't automatically make it the hang out for vampires. Plus there is that other female author into the 'New Orleans vampirism' (smirks) and personally I think it is just Anne Rice under a different wig. I would truly be insulted if my vampires were compared to traditional blood-suckers. Don't get me wrong, I know that there is obviously a market for that 'romantic underworld.' And everybody is entitled to like what they want to. There are just so many 'vampire wannabe's' out there; I've been in the chat rooms. I have spoken with guys and girls who believe they are up to 3000 years old. But who is to blame for their delusions of grandeur? Gothic rock, possibly- the film industry 'definitely.
Then we have these 'spiritual psychic vampires' who suck your energy! (laughs) Please…all you have to do is read James Redfield's 'Celestine Prophecy' to understand that as humans we all feed on each other's energies and emotions. It is human nature to do so. (calms her self with a few deep breaths.) I'm not making a mockery out of other people's beliefs, what I am trying to say is that my vampires are not anything like Rice's or other literature-inspired skin punchers.
My vampires are more primitive and void of all the traditional Romanian/Dracula trappings. Vampires do exist! There have been a couple of major cases of people feasting on other people's blood over the past two years. However just because they have vampiric tendencies doesn't automatically make them sun-fearing, crucifix loathing cloaked 'undead.' Running around saying 'Good evening, I vant to suck your blood.' I think it is the portrayal of vampires in this way that is truly making a mockery of them. (smiles and bares her one fang) There will always be a fascination with vampires as long as the human species plagues this planet.

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (his alligator skin cock hanging to one side) And you haven't even complimented me on my withered manhood. Never had to seduce a necrophile before. They generally tend to now exactly why they have dug me up from Unhallowed soil. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's the kill that gets you greasy. Maybe dead fist like me ain't good enough for ya!

DESTINY WEST: How do you make a skeleton? (giggles) Hose down a leper. (laughs) I know very sad and don't worry I'm not into skeletons so your rotting flesh won't be clogging up my drainpipe. (slowly drags her hand out of Hertzan's arse and flicks her hand in the air to remove the gore and faeces) Hmmm looks to me like you should have been using laxatives more regularly.

Destiny wipes her filthy hand across his mouth and straddles his body. Her moist panties press against Hertzan's flesh, then she presses her lips against his pushing her tongue deep into his putrid hole and then with a sudden surge of strength, she rips Hertzan's tongue out by the roots and chews upon the tasty morsel before swallowing the pieces. Sighs with satisfaction and licks her fingers.

DESTINY WEST:You are absolutely delicious Hertzan. (grabs his maggot infested head and shoves it between her ample cleavage) Men are always staring at my breasts and you can tell by the way the saliva oozes out of the corner of their mouth that they are fantasising about what you are doing right now. (runs her fingers through his hair affectionately and giggles) It is just as well that you are dead already or I am sure you would have suffocated by now. (reaches hand between her thighs to fondle his cock) Perhaps I could recommend you to a guy into performing resurrections? I would love to play with you while there was some blood pumping into this. (digs fingernails into his withered cock) As much as I love the dead, the lack of a good strong pulse always douses my flame. I love to hear my playmates scream. (gets off the corpse and sits back beside him) Anyway it has been wonderful chatting with you, now if I can have a souvenir to remember you by. (puts her head in his lap and sucks Hertzan's withered cock into her mouth and begins to chew it off)

HERTZAN CHIMERA: (the chewing continues unabated) Well, that just about wraps it up for another corkin' mind-meld with one of the future stars of the literary bad-ass zone. I feel like my whole dead body is covered in girl spunk. God bless that greasy mush. Gottle o' geer! Gottle o' geer!