Sunday, February 13, 2005

chapter one of blood red
The night is young, but the sky is an endless pit of black. I can see as if it were the light of day. The frosty bite of cold has already crept into the air; it feels like a warm summer day to me. My name is Brea, and I am a vampire.
My name was not always Brea, though how I received that name I do not wish to speak of. Maybe, one day, you will find out, but that will not be any time soon, and not from my fanged mouth. I will tell you this though, the things humans think about vampires are not exactly correct. Vampires can walk in the sun if they really want to, it will not burn them, it only gives them a head ache, so most prefer not to. If your eyesight was five million times as good as it is right now, the light from the sun would give you a head ache also. A stake through the heart will not kill us, garlic and crosses do not keep us away, and our souls still remain the same as when we walked the Earth as mortals.
We do stay away from garlic, but only because our sense of smell is much more acute then humans, so it smells about two hundred fifty times as strong. We stay away from crosses and churches because it reminds us religious ones, or, ones who believed in god as mortals, that we have sinned by killing people many times, for our survival, but done it just the same.
I must admit that I have killed many a human, and have regretted it, though, every night I stalk a new prey, and add a person to that long list. Vampires are not the only “myths, fairytales” that humans are correct about, but do not know very well, there are also werewolves, dragons, witches and wizards. I have met many, and am friends with a small few. But like most vampires, I like to keep to myself.
Vampires wear black only for the first hundred years of there almost immortal lives. They do this because they are mourning for all of the people they knew, before they changed, for those people do die within those one-hundred years. I finished wearing black one-hundred years ago, for I am exactly two hundred years old today, Friday, November 1, 2004. Two hundred years, a long time in human lives, but still considered young for my kind.
I am considered very powerful, though young, and eat whomever I want. I do not fear anyone, for to fear the ones stronger then I would be to stop living. If I yield to them, I will have lost, and I learned long ago not to loose.
As I walk down the street I see a stupid scatterbrained human reading, walking, and getting lost all at the same time. I wait for her to turn into a dead end, and then I walk silently, always silently, toward her. I draw out my fangs and its over within seconds, I am not crewel, I do not rip at her, and she doesn’t feel a thing.
After feeding, I slip away, unnoticed, back to my house. When light comes, I put on a blood red tank top and midnight black jeans, not one thread or white. I slip a see through long sleeve black shirt over top of the tank top, and look in the mirror, unlike what people think, we can see our reflections perfectly well, they think we can not because we “don’t have souls” or “have evil souls” but since that isn’t true… I look at my long brown hair, chalk white skin, which used to be light brown, and greenish hazel eyes.
I could change how I look with just a thought, if I wanted I could make myself have the darkest skin on the planet and inhuman- which I am- red eyes. When I go out in the day, I usually change my skin back to what it was, so, with a thought, it is done.


tell me wat u think, ok??
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