Eleven siblings have I And I am number ten I should have been the eighth But we got jumbled up again Between the last and first of us They always drop the ball And just before I rest the Weird and wicked come to call What am I?

I spread my limbs up to the air My children fall upon the ground Or do I tint a coat of mare? A tired joke gone round and round But you'd be wrong If you had thunk I was a loon Inside a trunk

Quite the looker Long and thin Brings the moon closer You can even see the man on its grin

I close out light or lose my sight, In slats or senses, day or night. I dim the world or fail to find, what others see, I leave behind.

A series of stories that doesn’t involve zones or sterling. Even sterling silver, along sunlight, garlic, holy water, and wooden stakes do not cause vampires in these stories any harm.