The Cave Where Vampires Dwell

The Cave Where Vampires Dwell

Through jagged rock and hollowed stone,

where moonlight dares not creep or roam,

a cavern yawns, deep, black, and wide—

a grave where time and horrors bide.

The air is thick with ancient breath,

the scent of rot, the taste of death.

Bones lie scattered, gnawed and bare,

whispering of feasts once there.

Then, from the dark, a scraping sound,

a shadow shifts along the ground.

Fangs like daggers, eyes aglow,

cavemen stir from depths below.

Not men of flesh, but things long cursed,

their hunger older than the earth.

Their faces gaunt, their voices low,

a hiss, a snarl—their numbers grow.

Fingers clawed like sharpened stone,

they drink from skulls long overthrown.

No fire wards, no stake can save,

you’ve stepped inside the vampires’ cave.