Write, Wrote, Written discussion

Three corpses lay out in front of me. I could say that I found them this way, limp and bent in obscure ways like a contortionist, with the original colour of their shirts hidden under a thick layer of blood. But, I'd be lying.

The body closest to me is of a middle-aged man with light brown hair and flecks of silver scattered at his roots. His glasses were discarded sometime during the brawl. Although, the memory of them will never vacate my mind.

I remember seeing those thin glass plates covering his raged brown eyes as he yelled at me from across his desk. His face was red with anger as saliva splattered my face with every obscenity he shot my way. The desk rattled under his thick hands, in sync with his boisterous voice. A cup full of pens and pencils struggled to stay upright. I have always imagined grabbing one of those pens and breaking the barrier of glass and piercing the sharp tool right into his eyeball. But, my dreams never became a reality. So, I snap my mouth shut and tie my hands behind my back like the good daughter I was trying to be. I thanked him for absolutely nothing and left the room, closing the door soundlessly behind me.

The body to the left of his wasn't as nice to me, either.

He'd hit her more than he would hit me. Sometimes I saw it happen; sometimes I didn't. I always saw the evidence of the impacts on her skin, though. Black and blue bruises the size of a grown mans fist on her cheeks, chin, neck, and shoulders. When I would confront her about them, she would brush me off and tell me I was worrying to much. She then would ramble on about how everything's going to be fine; drinking can make a person not act like themselves. I desperately wanted to tell her that drinking did the exact opposite, which was presenting the world with their true self. But, like the good daughter I was trying to be, I bit my tongue and didn't say a word.

Most nights she would blame me for his behaviour. She would blame me for things I've done, things I've said and things I never got to say. Her blows to my face were never suppose to hurt me. She only wanted to get her points across, so she said.

Everyday ended the same; she would order me and my teenage angst to my room. Most of the time without dinner. I'd fall asleep to the sound of her cries. It was at those moments where I wished I still had my best friend Lori to call. She was the third and final body at my feet.

When we were younger, it was blissful. We always wore matching clothes and never left each others side. The neighbourhood thought we were sisters. We thought we were too. But after we transferred from middle school into high school, things changed. Lori discovered the use of hair straighteners and the illusions she could create with makeup. She would show up at school wearing tight mini skirts and tube tops, her face hidden behind a mask of Cover Girl. She suddenly made a vast amount of friends every time I blinked. I'd watch from the distance as she slowly pushed me away. I tried my hardest to stay by her side-to stay of her interest. But, the mask was too thick. She hid herself behind walls of new friends and provocative clothing, casting me out of her life with a flick of her eyeliner pen. Her shrill laugh ricocheted off the hallway walls every single day of school, nesting itself into my eardrums as a reminder of what I lost. I was pleased to hear that sound be silenced once and for all.



Behind the bodies, a tall figure steps into the empty room. He shakes the rain off his charcoal hair as he walks toward me. The moonlight flows in through the translucent window, illuminating his pale white face. His sharp jaw catches the light, just like it did the first time I met him.



I was seated in a local Starbucks downtown, trying to finish an English paper due that week. I felt him looking at me from across the shop with his hood up and a coffee in his gloved hand. When I looked up at him, his grey eyes peered into my soul. For a split second they flashed a dark crimson red, startling me. My breath caught into my throat as I lost the grip on my coffee cup. It tumbled to the ground, oozing onto the beige tiled floor like yolk. Before I could get up to retrieve napkins, a stack of them were pushed into my periphery. I sat back and looked up at him. His eyes weren't red. He introduced himself as Day, nothing more.

Day sat with me after the mess was cleaned up. He asked what I was working on. “English paper,” I told him. He asked about my hobbies. “Reading,” I told him. He asked me about my family. “I wish they were dead,” I didn't tell him.

After a few weeks of hanging out together, he told me what he was. I didn't run away and scream bloody murder. Honestly, I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted to be what he was.



Day steps over the bodies nonchalantly as if he was stepping over rotting logs in a forest. When he reaches me, he grasps my blood soaked hands and pulls me close. Our foreheads press together, the aroma of mint and cigarettes hot against my cool skin as his breathes.

“It's not your fault, Em,” He tells me, his voice a faint whisper. Guilt clots my throat, blocking words from escaping my mouth.

"They deserved this for all the pain they've caused you.” Day presses on when I don't say anything.

The pain embedded itself into my brain for so many years. Eventually it found its way into my veins, pumping agony throughout my body. The feeling disappeared forever when I punctured my teeth into their necks.



Day wipes a runaway tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Look at me.” He says softly. When I don't obey, he takes my chin in his fingers and tips my head up. My eyes linger on his soft lips, trailing up to meet his red eyes. Day smiles, revealing two white fangs as sharp as glass. I smile back, licking the blood off of my own sharp fangs.

NICE!!
Now this is what vampires are all about, frickin killing people!

Thanks for an enjoyable read! I write vamp stuff myself and I enjoy reading other's works.

We have to bring true blood suckers back!!

Thank you!!

I wasn't planning on writing more of this story originally but recently I've been thinking of writing a sort of prequel to this story about her transformation. But thank so much! I have other stories pre-written. I'd be happy to post them too. :)

Haha okay, I'll post one of the old stories in a moment.