This once-flourishing farm community, wasting away —
Resorting to superstitious custom.
Their only physical evidence was the crazed bust that once topped her tombstone —
inexplicably smashed; curious, but insufficient.
“Gentlemen,” VanKirk declared, “since you insist, you may exhume my daughter. I sincerely doubt you will find her. . . a vampire.”
This flash fiction in 50 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (crazed).