Unforgiving Blood Lust | By: Molly Tawater | | Category: Short Story - Mystery Bookmark and Share

Unforgiving Blood Lust


I’ve spent a good part of my life hunting Vampires. Well, until I became one. Living the cold, neck seeking life I never wanted to live. Those ungrateful blood suckers turned me when I was 16 years old. Vampire hunting was never a sport, or a game. It was my passion. Unfortunately, both of my parents were killed by Vampires only a few short years after I was born. I had just reached the age of 4 when they…didn’t come home one night. I had heard about their death when I was 10. My grandparents told me on my birthday. What a surprise, huh? Of course I didn’t believe them. I mean, why would I have believed that my parents got killed by Vampires? I wasn’t quite sure what to think. But part of me believed that there was a possibility of them actually telling the truth. My parents would have had quite a story to tell if they lived. But now, I’m here to seek revenge on the ones who killed them. And this is my story.


It wasn’t until 7th grade when I was interested in learning about Vampires. Days, even weeks of studying and doing research. Despite the fact that I am one, I still wish to seek revenge on the Vampires that killed my parents. When that day comes, I will triumph. I will not rest until I find those undead freaks. Honestly, it isn’t so bad being a vampire. But really, the only downside is that humans want to kill me. And obviously, I’m not going to tell anyone. What’s weird is that I show no signs of Vampire qualities. Sunlight doesn’t affect me, and I have no interest in searching for blood. But I’m still not going to tell anyone, only because they would call me crazy. No one would believe me. Well, the only person I did tell was my therapist. But he told me that I needed to stop fantasizing about these brutal and fierce creatures. The first time I told him, he just laughed and thought I had gone insane. Like I had mentioned earlier, it happened when I was 16. I was walking home from the library on a Thursday night, by myself. And in a neighborhood like mine, walking alone at night isn’t a very smart idea.


So you must be wondering how I actually got turned  into a Vampire. When I was walking home from the library, I was listening to my music like an average teenager. And again, my neighborhood it isn’t normally patrolled my police. Anyway, as I continued walking, I had noticed that I was being followed. I was getting that frightful sense of someone behind me. I turned around…and no one. I turned around once more a full 360 degrees, just to make sure there wasn’t anyone to be seen. It was a long, scary walk…and my phone was dying, so no more music…and I wouldn’t have been able to call anyone to come pick me up. Which was even scarier. I just had to be brave, and continue to walk home. The only thing on my mind at this point was of course, Vampires. I guess I could call it an obsession. All of a sudden, I see a group of about five people out in the distance. “Don’t worry about them” I thought to myself. As much as I tried not to think about it, these people seemed to catch my interest. I was about fifteen minutes away from returning home, and stopping me in my tracks, this little rag-tag posse of worn out bystanders. They all had pale faces, and they were twice my size. Long, dark hair…and long fingernails. Before I could say or do anything, one of them rushed over to me, grabbed me by the wrist…and sank its long, white, and sharp fangs deep into the thick flesh of my vibrantly tattooed neck. 


I screamed out in pain. And just leaving me there, they ran off. I touched my index and middle finger to where this man forcefully bit my neck. I closely examined my fingers, and noticed freshly drawn blood. For a minute, I felt uneasy. I ran home, breathing heavily. I finally reached my door step, got inside, and bolted up to my room. I re-examined my neck, and noticed the unfamiliar pattern in the bite mark. Obviously this man who chomped on my neck against my will didn’t have a regular set of teeth. I compared the bite on my neck to a picture that I had on my computer. One set of two fangs. The blood was running from each little hole in the side of my neck. As I continued to look at it…I started feeling sick. I felt as if a slight fever were occurring. My skin started to grow cold, and pale. This man who sank his teeth into my neck must have been a Vampire. Because a human attempting cannibalism is just unheard of. 


Before any of this happened, it hadn’t yet occurred to me that Vampires really existed. I wasn’t quite sure what they were actually capable of. I just wish I could track down the Vampires responsible for my Parent’s death, let alone the alleged Vampire who turned me into a flesh-desiring, cave-hanging nightwalker. Days after this occurred, I still continued to feel sick. Slight fevers every so often…and my skin continued to lose pigmentation. I thought for sure I was going to die. So there I was…in the small, stuffy office of my therapist. He still didn’t believe that I was actually a Vampire. He looks at me, and says “If you really want me to believe that you are a Vampire, show me”. I thought it was a little stupid that he wasn’t trusting that if pushed too far, I would suck his blood. He wanted me to prove myself, so I did. I had remembered that I had a mirror in my backpack. So I took it out, and stood behind him. I placed the mirror in front of both of us, and saw only his reflection. That, by now must have changed his mind. But I still don’t think I proved him wrong. He continued to ask me stupid questions like, “wouldn’t you burn up in sunlight? Or don’t you have a constant thirst for blood?” This just angered me. So I got up from my chair, locked the door, and walked over to where he was sitting. I didn’t want to do this, but he wanted me to prove to him that I really was a Vampire. So I once again stood behind him, and without hesitation…sunk my fangs right into his neck. I managed to hit the artery deep enough, which killed him almost instantaneously. 


For the next few days, I kept thinking about the first time my grandparents told me about my parents “death”. I still don’t think Vampires are responsible for them not coming home. They might not even really be dead. How was I supposed to know? Maybe they really are gone. But I wasn’t going to stop trying to figure out who or what actually might have killed them. I really wished for some kind of answer as to why they didn’t return.



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