They were both creatures of the night, both dead, but not so. The moon in the sky burned like the sun, a few minuscule clouds covering it. It looked like the sun too, a bright round ball hanging in the sky.
They grappled on the ground, rotting flesh meeting demonically youthful skin, fangs baring upon sunken eyes.
Yet soon the vampire realised he might be joining the zombie too soon. Somehow the moon was burning the flesh, melting it away to be just as ugly as the zombie yet soon not quite as alive.
He grasped the fact too late. When had the morning come?
Tale for Trifecta