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Literature Text
Young Authors
Honestly, I never contemplated the thought of meeting a vampire. Their type only seems nonexistent due to the obviously impossible myths that spread so easily. Now, whenever someone presents the word vampire, it’s automatically related to bat, anti-sunlight, blood drinkers, and other unnecessary terms like that. Although these stereotypical thoughts still attempt to cloud my mind, I never allow them to fully obscure my view of what vampires really are. I could never tie in such silly tales when I was around him, and every time I tried they only seemed even more unreal.
Something I know is real, or at least was real at the time, was our last moment together before he disappeared. Unfortunately, I can vaguely remember the details, but something I could never forget was the first warm touch of his usually icy skin. It was a stroke of his index finger to him, and a gentle brush against the back of my frozen hand. To him it seemed like a simple gesture, but in my eyes it had more meaning.
When it happened, I felt the once familiar body heat flow through me, only to be replaced with my new, frigid feeling. Although the warmth seemed gone from me, it awakened something new inside of me. Was it a new instinct? Maybe it was a feeling such as compassion, regret, or even hate? It might have been both of those, but all I last recall hearing from him was his final painful words vibrate through my delicate ears.
“I’m…sorry,” he gently murmured. He struggled to get the words out of his mouth, and out of his heart.
I remained a still, unmoving, ivory white statue, as I silently decided that I would never forgive him. Even though he put his life into those two words, I still vowed never to forgive him. What he did to me was unforgivable, and would haunt me for the rest of my now immortal life.
He understood the depth of my stillness, and swiftly swept away, leaving only his previously glorious scent to inhale. As I breathed slowly, I detested his satanic smell and wrinkled my nose in disgust.
When I was sure he was gone, I gracefully lifted my trembling fingers up to the right side of my wounded neck. One, two, I counted, feeling the bite marks on my skin. Two teeth, two marks, so it wasn’t a dream. Fighting back tears, I clumsily stumbled to my knees, absorbing my unexpected situation. Well, I shouldn’t say unexpected because it was bound to happen someday.
From the moment I discovered his background, I should’ve known to avoid him on all costs. Instead, I was curious and began following him around. Ironically, he was also curious about me at the time, so he started following me. Finally, we both came to realize that we were simultaneously stalking one another, and had a good laugh about it.
So, one day we confronted each other and I heard him speak for the first time. He seemed to find my voice intriguing, and I his. Then in a gentle tone we’d both agreed that in the category of “who’s stalking who”, I had my reasons as much as he had his, so we decided not to discuss it any further. He was surprisingly cordial about everything, and there was a certain air about him that made him flypaper for bugs like me.
We began speaking to each other regularly, and at this point, I guess one could describe us as close friends. So, as friends, we both would share dinner and a movie on Friday nights. One of us would choose the restaurant while the other chose the movie, and vice versa.
But during our dinners, I couldn’t help but notice that he hardly ate or drank anything. If, and when he did order, it would be meat; only meat—steak, hamburger, veal—as long as it was juicy. Still, he only ate a few bites, and I was sure he was hungry for something else—blood.
Even though I was positive about his diet, I trusted him enough to stick with him, and I thought he would maintain control of his instincts like always. Then one day, as we were walking together in the park, his eyes suddenly turned dark. Normally, his twinkling eyes were a gorgeous shade of amber, with a hint of jade, but now they had become a dark, black abyss. I knew that I would soon regret ever staring into those two beautiful eyes.
As soon as I looked at him, I was trapped with his powerful gaze locking my eyes into place. The next thing I felt was a terrible sting on the side of my neck—I knew what had happened immediately—and I felt a chill move through my veins as he feasted on my blood. By the time he was finished, I was pale-white from head to toe, and stone cold all over. My limp, lifeless body no longer had a heartbeat, and I had become a vampire.
Calling myself stupid for trusting a vicious predator like him won’t change me back, and wishing I was human again won’t do anything either. All I can do now is accept my new self, as difficult as it will be. Things will never be the same, and I’m forced to adapt to this strange, morbid lifestyle.
Honestly, I never contemplated the thought of meeting a vampire. Their type only seems nonexistent due to the obviously impossible myths that spread so easily. Now, whenever someone presents the word vampire, it’s automatically related to bat, anti-sunlight, blood drinkers, and other unnecessary terms like that. Although these stereotypical thoughts still attempt to cloud my mind, I never allow them to fully obscure my view of what vampires really are. I could never tie in such silly tales when I was around him, and every time I tried they only seemed even more unreal.
Something I know is real, or at least was real at the time, was our last moment together before he disappeared. Unfortunately, I can vaguely remember the details, but something I could never forget was the first warm touch of his usually icy skin. It was a stroke of his index finger to him, and a gentle brush against the back of my frozen hand. To him it seemed like a simple gesture, but in my eyes it had more meaning.
When it happened, I felt the once familiar body heat flow through me, only to be replaced with my new, frigid feeling. Although the warmth seemed gone from me, it awakened something new inside of me. Was it a new instinct? Maybe it was a feeling such as compassion, regret, or even hate? It might have been both of those, but all I last recall hearing from him was his final painful words vibrate through my delicate ears.
“I’m…sorry,” he gently murmured. He struggled to get the words out of his mouth, and out of his heart.
I remained a still, unmoving, ivory white statue, as I silently decided that I would never forgive him. Even though he put his life into those two words, I still vowed never to forgive him. What he did to me was unforgivable, and would haunt me for the rest of my now immortal life.
He understood the depth of my stillness, and swiftly swept away, leaving only his previously glorious scent to inhale. As I breathed slowly, I detested his satanic smell and wrinkled my nose in disgust.
When I was sure he was gone, I gracefully lifted my trembling fingers up to the right side of my wounded neck. One, two, I counted, feeling the bite marks on my skin. Two teeth, two marks, so it wasn’t a dream. Fighting back tears, I clumsily stumbled to my knees, absorbing my unexpected situation. Well, I shouldn’t say unexpected because it was bound to happen someday.
From the moment I discovered his background, I should’ve known to avoid him on all costs. Instead, I was curious and began following him around. Ironically, he was also curious about me at the time, so he started following me. Finally, we both came to realize that we were simultaneously stalking one another, and had a good laugh about it.
So, one day we confronted each other and I heard him speak for the first time. He seemed to find my voice intriguing, and I his. Then in a gentle tone we’d both agreed that in the category of “who’s stalking who”, I had my reasons as much as he had his, so we decided not to discuss it any further. He was surprisingly cordial about everything, and there was a certain air about him that made him flypaper for bugs like me.
We began speaking to each other regularly, and at this point, I guess one could describe us as close friends. So, as friends, we both would share dinner and a movie on Friday nights. One of us would choose the restaurant while the other chose the movie, and vice versa.
But during our dinners, I couldn’t help but notice that he hardly ate or drank anything. If, and when he did order, it would be meat; only meat—steak, hamburger, veal—as long as it was juicy. Still, he only ate a few bites, and I was sure he was hungry for something else—blood.
Even though I was positive about his diet, I trusted him enough to stick with him, and I thought he would maintain control of his instincts like always. Then one day, as we were walking together in the park, his eyes suddenly turned dark. Normally, his twinkling eyes were a gorgeous shade of amber, with a hint of jade, but now they had become a dark, black abyss. I knew that I would soon regret ever staring into those two beautiful eyes.
As soon as I looked at him, I was trapped with his powerful gaze locking my eyes into place. The next thing I felt was a terrible sting on the side of my neck—I knew what had happened immediately—and I felt a chill move through my veins as he feasted on my blood. By the time he was finished, I was pale-white from head to toe, and stone cold all over. My limp, lifeless body no longer had a heartbeat, and I had become a vampire.
Calling myself stupid for trusting a vicious predator like him won’t change me back, and wishing I was human again won’t do anything either. All I can do now is accept my new self, as difficult as it will be. Things will never be the same, and I’m forced to adapt to this strange, morbid lifestyle.
My story was chosen to be submitted into the competition. People really liked it, but I didn't agree at first. I guess it's better than I thought. (Good for an 8th grader??)
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