Random story ideas, pick what you want.

Is it real?

I'm starring at the computer now. Thinking about what to write. It's killing me. I can't do a dang thing. My music is gone becuase, 'we're not supposed to have that in school,' thus my creative juices are lacking in certain areas.

It's like in my mind I'm Picasso but once paint hits canvas I develop parkinson's. My mind is blank and it's not helping me at all. Right now I'm sneaking one of my headphones in and covering it with my hair, but it'll only last for so long.

I need to write. My survival skills count on it and I really don't want to go back to living off the next menial task that I do. I can't go back to that.

I won't.

It's getting even hotter now that my hair is down. It's like a giant black poodle has been unleashed on my head. The golden blond strands start popping out making my hair seem a figment of imagination. That's not a good way to describe it...an anomaly. It's like an anomaly.

The weave is itching against my scalp begging me to scratch it but I can't, I have to start writing. If I don't start writing I'm going to have to worry about a lot more than a little itch in my hair.

"Come on." I probe myself. "You can do this. Just like all the other times, let the words flow out of you in a river of creativity. Just do it."

My hands move slowly at first, as if warming up. "My words are the key to everything, everything that I need."

'His blond hair glows like a ray of light shines after a storm.' "No, good, that's already been done. Somthing else. Something creative." I delete the sentence and close my eyes starting over again.

'HIs black hair sweepes over his head in a depressing fashion, making his skin seem even paler than before. He still lookes the same after all those years, same black hair, same daunting expression that won over every crowd, the same chisled body structure made by the gods.

There's so much that I remember, but much has changed about him. His body has become more sculped as he matured, his features sharper than they were before, if that's even possible. Above all there is one thing that haunts me.

His eyes.

Black as night and cold as stone, disguised as warm and comferting his eyes burn through your very soul and damn you to hell. As soon as his eyes set upon you, you're doormed for a lifetime. I should know, he ruined my life.

I wouldn't say that he did it on purpose, but then again I could never be sure. Not even I could dissertain that fact, and I'm the only one who's seen past the facade in his eyes. After all, he is a master of disguise. It's in his blood.'

I open my eyes and read over my work. It's gonna need some work, but I could see it happening. At least It's not something that I have written before.

Out of the corner of my eye I see something moving. "It's probably the flag from outside, it's always casting a shadow." Reassuring myself I walk over to see the very thing that I just wrote.

"You're going crazy Hope. You need to get out of the house." Throwing on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt I run out of my house and into the streets of New York.

'That didn't just happen, you're not crazy.' I take off running as if for my life down random streets somehow winding up on this peculiar sight.

Now in New York everything is bright and the city is mostly alive at night, everything is done at this time. This place...it's dark.

Not in the I'm going to kill you, a serial killer is behind you kind of place. But a dark ominous place.

My mind and body are screaming at me to turn the other direction and head back to safety but I don't listen for some reason. I walk to the deserted manor and take in the beauty of the place.

This could be a good setting for my story...

Snap. Snap. Snap. The wood sounds as it's being crunched under my feet; alerting anything and everything that might be near.

As I enter the building I find that there is a bell that sounds at my entry. The only thought that was running through my head was "If you try to escape you'll be heard. They will catch you. There is no escape."

'Stupid.' I think to myself, there's no way that something straight out of scary movie could happen to me. I write stuff like this every day, nothing should happen.

'Nothing will happen.' I correct myself 'I'll be fine.'

Taking in my surrounding a notice that the outside is just a tease for whats hidden inside like caramel in chocolate. Strangely enough the manor was Victorian on the outside and mid renaissance on the inside.

To my left there was a staircase and the same was true to my right side, the two elegantly forming a bridge that somehow looked like a frown. The pillars holding the structure above it were triangular shaped, kind of like canines... 'Strange...'

I followed the staircase and on the top there was an elevator. I clicked the button with skepticism, it shouldn't work, this place looks like its been abandoned for years.

To my utter astonishment, it opened.

Of my own stupidity or some outside force directing me I step into the elevator and press two. Seems like a good number, between one and three the difference between. Shouldn't be a problem.

The elevator stops at the second floor of the manor and step out waiting for the floors to creek or some creepy, old butler to come and greet me. As expected no one came and I walk briskly down then slow down suddenly aware of how cold it is.

"Oh great! I'm gonna end up on channel eigh news! I can see it now "writer dies in a haunted house; coincidence or irony?" Stupid tabloids! If i die tonight I will come back and haunt all of them!"

"Aren't you a happy camper."

"Of course i'm not a happy camper! Who in their right mind would be happy camping?!?" I scream "Wait...who just said that" I felt a hand on my shoulder so I grab it and twist around to face them. My face pales and I back up to the wall behind me. It's him.

The boy that I saw in my apartment, the one that I wrote about. It wasn't my imagination.

Well I'll be damned, the fucker exist.

"Well you've got a dirty mind."

"I know i've been thinking of you the whole time. How could I not? I mean your SO irresistable. I think I should have made you blonde with blue eyes if you were gonna be a vampire i mean the dark ominous mysterious guy is gonna be the vampire? A little cliche don't you think?"

A mark of irritation appears on his face and he speeds down the hall and down a corner. So, I turn around and walk out of the house the giant bells tolls again. Well if he's going to catch me it's going to be-

"Now." I look down to the pale arm that's keeping me from walking out. "You wanna let go? I kinda need to finisher writing you and I kinda want to live. It's getting late, let go."

"Nah I think I'll keep you here, it'll be fun."

"I sware if another one of your creepy friends comes out saying 'come play with me' I'm leaving and you can't do anything about it." Ripping my arm out of his grip I start walking back up the steps towards the direction he was headed earlier.

"Well, are you comming?"