My first horror was vampires. Starting with 'Salems Lot when I was about 9 years old, followed by They Thirst in my twenties, with Cujo and some other Stephen King in between. Then anything I could find. Hiding in the shadows, creeping into bedrooms, luring the victim to a secluded spot, sustaining themselves on the blood of unsuspecting humans. Feral or suave by turns. Enveloping you in his darkness and sucking you dry (maybe) to satiate his never ending hunger. You're guarded only by a cross and your faith. If your faith is strong and steadfast. Will you wake up sane? If at all?
Sparkly romantic vampires don't cut it. They better be bursting into flame or melting into a horrible puddle of goo in the sunlight. Or at least getting a nasty sunburn.
Werewolves and Zombies. Meh. They usually fall in the 'B' category. Driven mad by the full moon, or wandering around looking for something warm to munch on. Fun, and usually gory, but not particularly scary. Although Dean R. Koontzs Midnight was a good one for werewolves.
Other. Ah, the 'Other'. Hovering in the dark, lurking in your closet, under your bed. Is it watching you as you sleep? Is it behind you? In the bushes? Hidden in the branches of the trees you're walking past? Under the cars in the crowded shadowy parking lot. Your hair stands up on end and you don't know why. You pause for moment, and glance around, Did I see something? Did I hear something? Because you only ever catch it from the corner of your eye, or the very edge of your hearing til it's too late. Where is it! There?! Don't look! Walk a little faster, but don't run. Never run. It stalks you in your dreams til you think you're going mad. Til it can satisfy it's bloodlust and suck the sweet marrow from your crushed bones.