The bat flew recklessly through an alleyway, scraping its own wounded wings against the narrow brick walls. Its fragile heart was beating incredibly fast. It swooped downward, nearly grazing a puddle of rainwater. The bat barely missed a collision with a metal trash bin, and then scratched itself flying over a wired fence. This pitiful creature with matted hair and a sore body finally made its way to the neighborhood cemetery, and collapsed into the muddy grass and weeds. It slowly stood up, having taken quite a hit. The bat was beaten and bruised from an encounter with an enemy. But during the altercation, the winged mammal had been in a different form.

In the bold moonlight, hidden from the public eye by a canopy of withered trees, the bat’s muscles began to bulge, stretch, and mutate. Its pointed ears retreated to the sides of its head and became rounded while its eyes dimmed and expanded. The entire body of the creature grew and transformed, until wings became a cloak, a mouth of serrated teeth became two fangs, and the bat was an ancient and undead being. 

He stood, framed between two tombstones, clutching his injured arms and hobbling on a sprained ankle. Despite being immortal, he was not invulnerable. His battle had left him in poor condition. But he felt rejuvenated by the light of the moon, and being amongst the dead. The vampire groaned through stale breath, and paced weakly through the cemetery, recovering more with each footstep.

By the time he reached the opposite fence, he was ready to return to battle. And as quickly as he thrust his cloak into the air, he warped back into a bat, and flew into the night sky, having regained his strength and grace. The world of mankind would see him as no more than a pest, or a sign of the season. But his true tale would continue, hidden from the world of humans.