Hearing heels clicking sharply on polished oak floors, she cautiously opened the door to the empty study to find: nothing. Being alone in the new house – an old Victorian – was making her jumpy. She walked to the window, fingering the horrid blinds. Suddenly, an ice-cold draft: the door slammed shut. Pointed teeth grasped her neck, she screamed as sharp pain repeatedly laced her flesh, strong arms pressing her helplessly against the smooth glass. She frantically thought, ‘they don’t exist! It’s a myth!’ But they did and she was turned that afternoon, forever corrupted, by a paddle wielding Spanko!