Archive for short stories

the vampyre (embodiment of the undead)

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on August 6, 2009 by gothiclg

Two thousand years. Two thousand very long years. With all this time behind me I still missed the only woman I felt loved me for who I was instead of what I was. Some women over the years discovered what I was, though most by accident. Most became obsessed with the one thing only I cold give them: immortal life. So many of them could never get passed the fact that a simple bite could cause them to live forever that they followed me everywhere, they also occasionally almost blew the secret I’d kept for so long before that. Every one of them I drained so completely that there was no way they would become immortal or be revived by humans. I pumped them with so many toxins that often they were believed to have drank themselves into a stupor and a killer had somehow drained them of all of the blood they had. Of course, I always moved towns after the deaths so I was never caught. Now, in 2010, My secret was close to being exposed to all of humanity once again. This time it wasn’t by a woman, it was from a young man sick with aids. He was threatening to reveal my secret if I didn’t make him immortal and let him live with me forever he’d blow my cover. Many times I have thought of gaining myself a male companion. Though, in this modern age, being gay wasn’t accepted, this young man already accepted that he is this way despite society’s hatred of the way he is. Despite this, something still worries me. He clearly looked more modern than I did, like he belonged with these people. The year of my birth made me very conspicuous because I didn’t look the same. Though I often passed as a foreigner I was nervous that this man may have guessed my secret based off of my looks. This is something that bothered me very dearly and was something I didn’t want to happen again if it could be avoided. That was something I planned on asking him that night, in exchange for the honest answer I decided that I would change him. Thanks to my ability to read minds I would know instantly what the real answer was, if he told me or not. I went to the apartment we had agreed to share and waited on him. When he returned from work he was amazed to see me there. We both worked nights and slept before dawn came. For now, we had maybe a half hour before sunrise. I was usually on the prowl for small amounts of animals to dine on and was trying to appear inconspicuous. “What are you doing home? Your usually still out looking for things to dine on.” “Usually I am yes. I found some stray pit bulls tonight. They were good other than some mange. Thats not why I’m waiting here tonight. I would like to change you but in exchange I want an honest answer to a question.” “Anything! Anything at all! All I would ever want to do is make you happy.” “How did you discover I was a vampyre despite me never giving you any clues to my nature?” He hesitated. I read his mind to see what was running through his mind. He’d met my kind before it seems. The other had also been very kind to him with the exception of one thing: he gave him the blood that infected him with aids. He’d been told that it was a serum that would change him into a vampyre. Instead he had discovered that he had been infected with aids and left to die. I even knew the vampyre he spoke of: Monroe Osdale, my very own creator. He was killed around the time this man was infected with aids. This is the man that got my predecessor murdered! Our leaders, the first of the vampyre clan knew when a human was lieing about knowing the truth of the myths. He had himself infected on purpose so one more vampyre would be out of this world. Before he ever had a chance to answer, I lunged. I drained him completely while the neighbors heard him scream. With the amount of time I had left that night I fled, found a new place to hide while the sun god made his rounds. The next night I would once again start over in a new city.

gifted or cursed?

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on August 3, 2009 by gothiclg

for a long time ive wondered if being clairvoyant was the gift my parets made it out to be. sure, it was always nice to see my grandfather come back from time to time but i wasnt sure if it was worth seeing everything else. the dead biker hit by the car, the person killed in a grizzly murder, the suicide looking to make amends with famil. those were there more times than i could count.

im seventeen and the only person in my family “gifted” enough to see them. i have no other friends like me and theres no one in their families i can relate to either. the only support i have are the random freaks on the internet who claim to be able to see the dead. from the stories i get, i just take them as writers trying to sound cool to someone they dont know, maybe they even think that if i really am the real thing i wont see through their tales. i dont see me having any chances of finding anyone authentic there.

for now im alone, left wondering how i managed to get this considering no one else in my family claims no spiritual gifts. i always try to help the dead where i can. myspace has become a very usefull tool, even if the person on the other end didnt beleive what i had to say (or at least they pretended they didnt). i knew for sure some found peace in what i’d had to tell them, some even beleived that i wouldnt have known their names if i hadnt been speaking to the dead person directly. i just hope i have a long time to decide if this is a gift or a curse on my own. after all, isnt that the only choice i have?

the end of a vampyre couple

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on August 2, 2009 by gothiclg

It was dark that night, so dark that most people would say you couldnt see your hand in front of your own face. The storms had long since passed away though their clowds still left a lot of cover in the sky. These were the kinds of nights that Anselm enjoyed being outside. He was never even out during the day anymore. There was this rumor that all vampyres would burst into flame if they were in sunlight, though all of their kind knew this wasnt true. They could be out during the day all they wanted without a problem, they just burned a lot easier because of their sensitive skin. Tanning booths didn’t help them fight off this burn either like some doctors said it would, in fact Anselm had even managed to burn useing a tanning bed. Though tonight this wasnt one of his concerns for the moon was up high and hidden behind the clowds and the sun had long sense gone down.
Tonight his concern was the graveyard. He wasnt security here, he wasnt even an employee. Nor did he have any family that was buried here in this graveyard. He had moved away from his hometown long ago when his entire family had burned to death in a house fire. This was a place where he never planned to return. There was nothing left for him there. This graveyard, in this strange town where he knew no one, was what he really cherished. The night security didn’t care if you were there or not as long as you left without vandelizeing anything. Since he never had vandelized anything on the grounds (the one person who had ever vandelized anything was caught months before he had started coming here on a regular basis) the security never seemed to notice that he was even there. It was like he was a ghost, which is something he perferred. The only person who ever recognized he was there was another vampyre like himself.
Though she wasn’t at the graveyard every night like he was she was here often enough. Like himself she dined on animals blood to hide her true nature from the normals around them and to avoid looking for a willing human doner or stealing it from a blood bank. Not to mention an animals blood was safer than a humans. Few deseases passed from an animal to a a human through the blood, unlike with human blood contact. Anselm already knew if he had taken any of his willing human doners he would have HIV and be on the verge of contracting AIDS by now. Though he didnt know her story surrounding her choice of animals blood he didnt wonder too hard. He figured it would be much like his own and figured it would be best to leave it alone rather than going into it.
On many of the nights they spent here together they spoke of things like art, politics, even sex. If it was a major taboo that scared most onlookers (no matter the country of origin) they seemed to realish it. They enjoyed many of the same things and looked in simmilar places for entertainment. They had both also visited a local jail a few times to witness the execution of a person they had never seen before that night. So many condsider this something only for the victems and their families both of them seemed to think of it as a more public affair. This was a country that did kill people who killed people to show people killing people is wrong so they both figured watching this odd double negative was something they might as well enjoy when it came up. You never knew when one would ever come again and it was something most people in this beautiful free country of ours would never see. So many more were concerned about the newest plastic surgery they wanted or what celebrety had died and how. Heath Ledger was still a major headline and both of them seemed to agree his last movie had gotten a lot of public attention soley because he had died so recently and there would never be another his fans could rush out to see. Then there were others who had grown up watching the famous series of movies and never knew the man existed before his death hit the news stands. They were definately some of them.
Tonight, though, was not a night reserved for one of their long discussions about art or anything else. Tonight was the night they reserved their own spots in the ground of this graveyard. Both of them had set up small funerals already and had paid lawyers to buy them a plot side by side with simple grave stones bearing nothing but their names. The only thing the two of them had ever owned was a large inheritance from a rich family. Both of them paid rent month to month on a small apartment aswell. Tonight was a night that all of this would be gone as well though. It would go to a chairity for skin cancer. They both had agreed they would commit suicide at their favorite grave in the entire area, the grave of Stacy Armstrong. Though the last name has been made famous, this woman never was. Neither of them even knew what drew them here, they just knew that something did. It was the only spot that ever would.
Lost in his train of thought she had arrived without Anselm noticeing her. By the time he had turned his head and realized she was there she had already set up her part: a small tray with two wine glasses filled with pigs blood. He pulled out his part from the pocket of his dress pants: cyonide. It was split up into two different packets, each having enough to kill three people. Though they could have easily split one packet and still have it kill them he wanted to take no chances with any of this. They considered each other lovers and had no plans on the other staying behind because somehow they had been given the incorrect dosage. They mixed the cyonide into the blood and, before anyone had the chance to fix what they had done to themselves, they died peacefully.

the cell in the insane asylun

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on August 2, 2009 by gothiclg

My name is Matteo Delzer. I’d spent the last few years of my life in this insane asylum called Wild Oaks. It wasn’t like there was a lot if oak trees at this place or anything. It’s like an old folks home being called something like Shady Acres. I was sent here because some voices in my head completely convinced me that if I sat there and pet my sister like a cat her head would fall off and re-grow, like she was an alien or something. I know that doesn’t sound like something any sane person would believe but I honest to God did. After a few weeks of me petting her to try to get her head to fall off (sometimes pretty hard) she had me put on pills. These pills were supposed to make the voices go away some and make me more like normal people. This didn’t exactly work, in fact the voices got stronger and I really didn’t know what to do with them then. If you thought I was crazy for listening to them then your going to think I’m even crazier with this next story.
My sister gave me one hundred dollars to go to the store and do some grocery shopping for the two of us and told me to make sure I didn’t go over because it was all the grocery money we had right now. She even gave me a list of some things that we absolutely needed for a party that she had planned that was coming up and some coupons so we could save some money on the stuff we bought a lot. I got down to the last item on the list before I started to read the list wrong thanks to the schizophrenia they say I have now. Instead of seeing “dark chocolate cake mix” I managed to see “human fingers”. Naturally, I wandered around the store awhile looking for human fingers. I didn’t have the slightest clue where to look since my sister usually did the grocery shopping (not to mention their not something sold in this country) and I never learned the setup for our neighborhood store.
After looking pretty lost for awhile one of the sales people there asked me if they could help me with something. When I mentioned that I was looking for human fingers the woman gave be a strange look. When I pointed to the bottom of the list and showed her what my sister had written (which wasn’t what was coming out of my mouth) she gave me an even stranger look and helped me find what I should have been looking for all along. The woman, having known my sister for awhile and having seen a picture of me on at least one occasion, called my sister and let her know what had happened. This, of course, came as a surprise and scared my sister. She had never had me hallucinate before and she had the chance to watch my father struggle with the same disease years before me and watched him hallucinate on a regular basis. After this incident I was sent here to be treated.
I always hated it here. Bad food, public showers, making us get in line for some generic looking pills that you couldn’t tell one from another. I knew that not all of us suffered from the same thing. Billy for sure has multiple personalities but somehow his pills look exactly the same as mine. I brought this up with a doctor and they just looked at me funny. When I refused to give up I got locked up in this padded room. I really hate it here. Mind helping a guy out?