The ink drinker

His body was hidden by a blanket. Only his head, which was resting on a large satin pillow, lay exposed. I noticed that small freckle-like letters seemed to be engraved on his paper-mâché skin. I got closer so that I could examine him in better detail. Suddenly he sat up and fixed his eyes on me. They were dark with ink. My blood began to churn. I felt as jumbly as a soft-boiled egg. And I wondered if vampires liked their eggs soft-boiled.... Excerpted from The Ink Drinker by Eric Sanvoisin All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.