I lived most of my life in San Gwynne, a sleepy little town in rural Pennsylvania. What is it with places that end in -vania? Seems like a magnet for fanged freaks to name a place somethingsylvania. Yet sylvania has sylvan as a root word and that just means woods, you, know?
San Gwynne was never as sleepy as it seemed and from very early on there were issues. I don't really know quite how to put it, so issues might be the word. Issues with things that go bump in the night. And when things got a bit hairy, well, that's when they'd call me in. I should probably backtrack a bit. I'm a priest and sometimes I do a little bit of work for the government.
I'm not even supposed to be talking about this, but I figure who's really going to know. It's a large internet, and an anonymous posting, so unless someone recognizes my syntax I should be relatively safe.
I was approached by the sheriff not too long ago when things really started getting out of hand. We had a growing community of the blood suckers and they were getting downright cocky. A couple of them even had their own moment in the sun (in a manner of speaking) on a local public access television show. They were trying to plead their case saying it was a matter of live and let live, but gradually it became apparent that their definition of living was not the same as ours, and the bottom line was survival of the fittest.
How dare they quote Darwin? Even Chuck knew where to draw the line. He knew the difference between a snake in the grass and a leech on society's neck. He was also known to drive a stake through a non-beating heart. That chapter in "On the Origin of Species" was deleted pretty quickly by the publisher. The rest of the book was complicated enough; it didn't need more controversy with the Church, which was already infested with leeches of their own.
But I digress. The sheriff contacted me and knew I could handle the exorcism which needed to take place to save the lives of those who hadn't completely gone over to the other side.