I hear the vampayre's footfall in the somnolent night. I understand that he moves with the precision of the snowfall's wintery silence. The vampayre's touch is at first cool then burns the skin. But his kiss, his kiss takes your breath away. You catch your breath but can't resist his touch. You open your mouth to protest, but pull him closer and kiss him more deeply.
Yes, I hear the vampayre in tonight's silent white that cloaks New York's self-important frenzy. We think that we can control the weather. Snow plows patrol the neighborhood and believe that they can control the elements, just as we think that we can control the vampayre's kiss. But I know that we can't. And that knowledge has made all the difference.
Are you ready to meet a vampayre? Do you have the courage to experience his kiss?