The Vampire Hall of Shame

These are the words of the Sacred Guidelines with which those whose names are forever chiseled herein have failed to comply.

From our August 2009 issue introduction:

... Keep in contact and keep sending in the stories.

... Except for vampire stories. Seriously.

Our tiny electronic online vault is filled to bursting with them. We try to reject them but they keep coming back to life. The only way to reject a vampire story is to print it out hard copy and stab it with a wooden No. 2 pencil. So please, help us avoid the costs of toner and pencils. Give Mother Nature a break. Make an editor happy. Avoid vampire stories. Yes, we've all been there. We suddenly had the greatest idea for a vampire story ever. It was going to be wonderful, unique, full of ripe red vampirey pathos goodness. The protagonist would share a propinquity with his victims that would border on something from a casual working class inner dialogue straight outta Compton, or maybe a Charles Bukowski poem, or maybe a Clifford D. Simak novel if he ever wrote one about vampires which I am pretty sure he did not. And yes, we know: "But you published one, already, back in June." That is true! It was the last good vampire story, ever. There won't be anymore, especially in flash fiction. That sub-genre is dead. If you send more vampire stories in, we will reject them publically in the "Wall of Vampire Shame" page that we are thinking up. Save yourself ignominy. Unless you want ignominy. If you want ignominy, send it in.  

Here then are those who chose ignominy. Feel free to use the Yellbox to cast derision, scorn, and virtual rotten veggies upon them. Grab your pitchforks and torches and arise as an angry peasant mob!

♦ Karel Smolders (How could you?)

♦ Douglas Araujo (Get away! Get away!)