I really do not know how to begin. I guess I will tell this story in random order, as I remember it. I sit here this dawn, having just driven a stake into the heart of a vampire. It was at his request however. He had been a vampire for 134 years, and had become bored with his existance. He found out eternity was not the gift he thought it was, a
nd he had decided his existance meant nothing any more. He sold his soul to the devil to become the creature he was. He knew that his soul was doomed to hell, but just wanted to pay the ultimate price now. He would pay in the end any way. The man I am talking about is none other than John Wilkes Booth. I call him the Rebel of the Night.