It was a rainy Saturday night. I was sitting in the car, arguing with my girlfriend, Layla. It was another pointless argument, Layla claiming that I'm cheating and I'm making counterclaims that she's cheating. Of the 5 years we've been together, I've never cheated on her. She started making these accusations about a week ago, the one time I came home later than usual. Now, these accusations are becoming worse. My gut told me that she was cheating, but I didn't have anything to back it up with. Layla never changed her habits, not even in the slightest. She still cared for me like I'd do for her. We were going back and forth for hours.
My heart skipped a beat, but not in a good way. I started getting this feeling that something bad was going to happen in the next few seconds. I looked up at the dashboard, then completely turned my head. There was a guy standing in front of the car with a gun pointed at me. I froze up, and everything started moving very fast. I felt sharp pains and burning sensations in my chest. I tried keeping myself up, but my body was feeling heavier. In a short notice, I blacked out.
I regained cautiousness, but barely keeping myself up. I couldn't move my body. I could feel my feet dragging on the ground, and my arms felt like spaghetti noodles. I kept hearing voices as I was moving.
"You should've shot him in the head." one voice said.
"I like it for people to suffer." another voice said.
My eyes could barely open. I couldn't make out who those people were, where I was, or anything else. The only thing I could think of was what did I do to get this fate. I blacked out again. Moments later, I regained cautiousness. I struggled breathing and I still had that pain in my chest. I just lied on the cold ground, bleeding out. I was gonna give up. Since there was nobody around, I thought it was pointless to try and stay alive. I started closing my eyes, excepting the end of my story. As my eyes were closing, I saw a person stand over me. I thought it was too late and continued to die out.
I opened my eyes and took a big inhale. It felt like I was taking my very first breath, almost being reborn again. I sat up, looking around in the area I'm in. I was on a really soft sofa. To the left of me was a girl sitting in a recliner at the far end of the room. In front of me was a fireplace. And to the right of me led to the dining room. I figured out that I was in the living room, but I wasn't sure who's living room I was in.
"You're finally awake!" the girl said.
I look to my left and the girl is sitting on the arm of the sofa. I jumped back on the sofa and started hyperventilating. I tried saying something to her, but I kept stumbling on my words.
"Relax! Try and stay calm, man." she said.
I did the opposite of what she told me to do. I panicked immediately. I got up from the sofa and started pasting back and forth from the living room to the dining room. I was trying to piece together and remember what happed and how I'd ended up in this place. I get a tap on my shoulder and came to an abrupt stop. She gives me a slap on my face, but this wasn't an ordinary slap. This slap was something you'd only see in the movies. She slapped me so hard that I flew into the main hall, by the front door. The slap was hard enough to put me through the walls.
"You better be relaxed by the time I get over there!" she says.
I was dazed for a bit. Damn, that was a hard ass slap. I tried to recollect myself, shaking my head wildly and blinking hard. I tilted my head up and saw her hand extended out, to help me up. I let her help me up, even after she just violated me like that.
"Are you done with that little panic attack?" she asks.
I give her a nod.
"Good. Now, my name is Roxxane. What's your name?" she says.
"Derrick. Where am I?" I ask
"Well, Derrick, you're in our underground mansion. You were brought here by Shaddow, our overseer. Welcome to our team." Roxxane says.
"What? What team? What's going on?" I asked.
"Well, you're a vampire now!" Roxxane answers.
I couldn't believe what I just heard. I'm a vampire now? And I'm part of a team now? It's a lot that I can't take in right now. Tonight just doesn't seem real to me at all. And I have so many questions.
About the Creator
Devin
Hey! My name is Devin. I'm 22 years old. I like writing realistic fiction, fantasy fiction, and fiction genre all in the first person perspective so my work will mostly be that. hope you guys like my content!! :)
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins3 days ago in Fiction
A bit of a tortured soul
Sure thing! Here's a story about a guy named Jake who's a bit of a tortured soul: So, there's this dude, Jake, who's always got this heavy vibe about him. You know, the kind of guy who's always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's got this haunted look in his eyes, like he's seen things most people can't even imagine. See, Jake had a rough childhood. His parents split when he was young, and he ended up bouncing around foster homes. He never really felt like he belonged anywhere, and that left a mark on him. As he grew up, Jake struggled to find his place in the world. He drifted from job to job, never really finding something that lit a fire in him. He had this restlessness, like he was searching for something, but he didn't even know what it was. On the outside, Jake seemed like a regular guy, cracking jokes and hanging out with friends. But deep down, he was wrestling with all these demons from his past. It was like he was carrying this invisible burden that no one else could see. But then, one day, Jake stumbled into this art class. He'd never been into that kind of thing before, but there was something about the colors and the shapes that drew him in. He started painting, pouring all his emotions onto the canvas. And you know what? It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Through his art, Jake found a way to express all the pain and turmoil he'd been holding inside. He started to find some peace, and people started to see a different side of him. Sure, he still had his moments of darkness, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes now. He realized that he didn't have to be defined by his past, that he could create something beautiful out of all the chaos inside him. So, Jake kept painting, and with each stroke of the brush, he chipped away at the walls he'd built around his heart. He was still a bit of a tortured soul, but now he had an outlet for all that pain. And in the end, that made all the difference for him. Hope that story hits the spot for you!
By Moh Amirullah6 days ago in Fiction
OF MOTHERHOOD.
Dear mother-to-be, I wanted to let you know how very, very special I think you are. I don't think there can be any job that is more meaningful than the one you are about to begin, that of being a mom. You are the most important person in the world to your precious unborn baby, and you will be for many years.
By Catherine Nyomenda4 days ago in Writers
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