The Book of Plot Twists

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It was the thirteenth day of April, which, coincidentally, happened to land on a Friday.

Her lips tasted like pure cane sugar derived straight from the plant.

But it's not like I would know that--because I've never kissed her. I'd only heard of the fabulous wonder called Aria Raine Whiterraven.

Okay, that's not entirely true. She lived across the street from me for three years, but we had only ever spoke once--and it was the best conversation in the world, I might add.

"Did you get your paper today?" She asked me back on that Friday night in the middle of September.

"Yeah, why?" I told her.

"I haven't gotten mine in three weeks. I think someone is stealing it." That was all she said before her roommate called her to the backyard.

It was only a twenty-three second conversation, but it was the best twenty-three seconds of my entire life. Now, I spend my Friday nights on my porch hoping and praying for a chance to speak to her again. And today, Friday the thirteenth, was no different.

When she exited her house, I told myself--as I do every week--that I was going to walk on over there and ask her out to dinner. Then, I watched her walk back inside without even saying a word like usual.

It was a sad cycle, really. I spent all day building up confidence and telling myself that today will be the day, only to sit back and watch her come in and out for two hours.

I knew, though, that today will be different. I just knew it. Sure, it was one of the most unlucky days of the year, but that worked for me. I had never been one to follow life's rules and regulations.

Today. I will talk to her today. The minute she comes out again, I will talk to her, I said to myself.

Sure enough, when she walked out, I didn't. Except, I didn't need to. Because she came over and talked to me.

"What do you do all night on that porch of yours?" she asked me.

Thankfully, while most people would have frozen up, my brain and mouth worked together to form a response. "I like watching the sunset. I think it's beautiful."

She smiled. "It is, isn't it?"

"What brings you over here?" I asked her, hoping to break my twenty-three second record.

"I'm not sure, actually," she shrugged.

What happened next was not in my control. I don't know why, but my mouth opened up and said: "Do you want to come in?"

She loved my house. She loved the knickknacks and strange glass spheres on my walls. She loved my large collection of clocks, and she was astonished when I told her that I had more clocks than anyone in the state of Kentucky.

"How do you get all of these?" she asked, holding a novelty stop-watch.

"You'd be surprised at the number of people who just drop off clocks at the thrift shop."

She laughed and it sounded like a thousand angels singing in harmony.

"Do you want something to drink? I just made some lemonade," I offered to her.

She told me lemonade was her favorite drink and that she would love a glass. I told her that it was my favorite too, and joked about what a coincidence it was.

However, it was no coincidence. Call me creepy, but I had only been watching her drink it every Friday night for the past six months. The truth was, I made a batch every week in hopes that she'd come in and drink some.

And on this day, she finally did.

"This is really good!" she exclaimed, finishing the glass.

"It's my grandmother's secret recipe. She used to sell it when she was a teenager and all the neighborhood kids were crazy for it."

"I can see why," she commented.

I took the glass from her and poured more without her even asking to. The gratitude on her face showed me that this day was going very well.

"You're a very interesting person," she told me.

I just shrugged. "I could say the same about you, but I don't know you that well."

"Well, my name is Aria Whiterraven and I've lived in this neighborhood since my second year of college," she explained to me. "My favorite food is macaroni and cheese, and I eat it about five times a week."

I asked her if she collected anything.

"Nothing as interesting or uncommon like clocks, that's for sure," she said.

"So, what is it?"

Her face turned red in embarrassment. "I collect souls."

I laughed. "Like that book series?"

Her face twisted into a sinister smile. "No, like actual souls."

"How?" I asked, positive that she was joking around.

All she did was smirk and caress my face.

Two hours before, I would have been dying for this moment. But currently, after she told me she collects souls, I wanted to turn away from her touch and remove her from my house.

She was so darkly beautiful, but I almost didn't notice it. All I wanted to do was escort her out and away. It wouldn't matter if I did though, because I was frozen in place as her smooth fingers began tracing themselves around my lips. 

"You're so quirky. I think I'll like your soul the best," she announced.

"Tell me what you mean," I demand, my voice barely a whisper.

She jumped up and started circling around me. "My newspapers never went missing. I said that to speak to you."

I asked her why.

"My presence does one thing to people like you, but my voice does another. The second you hear it, I become all you can think about. I become your new obsession. Your whole life and everything you do revolves around the chance to hear my voice and see my face just one more time.

"I know everything about you!" She continued. "Your kind, anyways."

Millions of questions swarmed through my head. What was this girl talking about? What was she trying to tell me?

"We used to be a peaceful race. All we ever wanted was to learn with you, but you had other ideas. Our beauty is exceptional and you humans didn't fail to notice that. You took advantage of our kindness and our looks, and then you enslaved us. You did unspeakable things to us until we had no choice but to fight to back.

"Then, they came after us with torches and knives and told us that we were the wicked ones! And you? Well, you're no different," she finished.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked again.

She grinned and her teeth turned into sharp fangs.

"Do you know what a vampire is?" She questioned.

Before I had a chance to react, she lunged at my head and sank her teeth into my skull.

Maybe I should have stayed inside this time. After all, it was Friday the thirteenth.