Just wanted to give an update. I am currently working through Cleo’s Journal and will get a new post up soon. But here is something I started working on when I was in my teens. I never finished it. In fact, I forgot I had it until a couple days ago. Hope you like it. 🙂

***

I clearly remember the day that I found out monsters were real. It was the cruelest moment of my life. I had just turned sixteen, enjoying my ‘Sweet Sixteenth’, which was flowing happily into the am hours. My parents were watching us all closely, probably to make sure that we weren’t trying to sneak in beer or drugs, or something worse.

There were nine of us, five of my friends, myself, my parents, and my baby sister, who was six at the time. Though, if I remember correctly, my baby sister was asleep on the front room couch while we danced and laughed on the patio.

Maybe it was our laughter and the loud music, or maybe we just smelled really good. But it came before we realized what was happening. At first, I thought it was an axe-murderer to add us to its list of murdered people.

That would have been preferable to the truth.

My mother had walked away from us to have a cigarette, letting my dad watch us all goof off in the pool. Shortly after she left our field of vision, it couldn’t have been more than a minute, her shrieks split the air, then there was nothing. My dad took off. He vanished where she had disappeared, and more horrified screams ripped through the cool night air.

My friends and I wasted no time in getting out of the pool. I thought I had heard a splash as someone fell back into the water, but I was too busy running the twenty feet to my sliding glass doors. I heard one of my friends scream, but it turned off like someone had pushed the mute button on the TV.

The patio door had somehow gotten locked, so I started running for the kitchen door which was to my left about ten feet. More screams ripped the air and there was a definite thud of someone either falling or being thrown.

I threw open the kitchen door, just in time for me and another girl to rush inside. As I turned to close it, I watched another of my friends, who had almost reached the doorway, be tossed aside, as another body slammed into her. I stood rooted to the spot staring as a man wrestled with her for a few minutes, before he put his head to her neck. Her shrieks still flood my dreams.

He ripped a hole in the side of her neck and lapped at the blood that welled out. Then he looked at me, almost as if daring me to do something. But all I did was stand there and stare at him, one hand on the kitchen door, as my friend screamed.

His face was etched into my mind. It looked almost animalistic. His teeth were abnormally long; his canines alone were about an inch long. His eyes looked to be made of ice and they seemed to glow. And his face and clothes were covered in blood. But otherwise he looked like a normal twenty-year-old guy with rather unkempt black hair.

I had read enough horror stories and watched enough movies to recognize him for what he was, a vampire.

I don’t remember much about the weeks after the attack. But I knew that the monsters I had fantasized as a child were real. Nothing would change that fact.

My sister, friend, and myself were the sole survivors of that night’s episode. I became engrossed in urban legends about vampires. Gleaning all the information I could about them. My sister and I didn’t stay long at any foster home, mostly because of my strange obsession, and that fact that they couldn’t talk me into believe that what the cops said had happened. They thought that it was a psycho who had attacked my parents and friends.

My sister who had woken up due to our mom’s screaming had seen the whole thing out the patio windows. She was the only person who believed me, and shared my obsession.

My friend’s parents put her into intensive care at an asylum; I never did see her again after that.

I killed my first vampire shortly after the whole thing happened. It had called me into the night from my parent’s house, state hadn’t figured out what to do with us at the moment so had let us stay there. The thing that saved me was the fact that a pastor, who came to my house every day, had given me a cross.

The worst part about the whole thing was that the vampire had been my mom. I killed my dad and every one of my friends the same night, when I realized that if my mom had woken up, they would too. My sister never knew about that, and I was not going to tell her.

 

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