Changed

Chapter 1: Well, Shit Happens

The vampires invaded New York the night I, Kayla, turned 16. I was pacing in front of a club called Poison, waiting for Kyle to show, eager to see what he had bought for me. He was late, and I knew it was Edann’s fault. Edann wouldn’t want to come, because it was my birthday and Edann hated me. But Kyle would make him do it, and they would show and I would wonder all over again why Kyle couldn’t lover me like that…and how he could love some-one who didn’t like me.

Then, out of nowhere, the place was swarming with white-faced, bone-haired, blood-eyed monsters. They just started attacking, grabbing people and ribbing open their throats--dancers, drinkers, bartenders, and my three best friends, Jasmine, Heather and Alex. I still had no idea how I had gotten out of there, but I called Kyle first and then my parents. No service, no service, beepbeepbeep…no texting, no net, no one could freakin’ communicate.

I was Kayla Jones, popular girl of Rustenburg High, a semi-slacker who wanted to become a vet once I got my grades back up. I had been a neo-goth, into Victorian/Edwardian clothes and pale makeup without the Marilyn Manson vibe, loved steampunk-but now all I was, was another terrified chick on the run from the monsters. Used to be the monsters in my head, now they were breathing down my neck in real-time.

No one stepped forward to represent the vampires or explain why they had taken over the area like the world’s worst gang. There were no demands, no negotiations, just lots of dying. In less than a week, drain corpses-the homeless first-littered the streets of Manhattan, Rustenburg, and the Village. As far as I could tell, none of them rose to become vampires themselves. Maybe all the movies weren’t true, maybe once they killed you, you were just dead.

The vampires had hunting animals like falcons that dug into their white arms. They were all head and wings, with huge white faces, blood shot eyes and teeth that clack-clack-clacked like the fake wind-up ones. Blood dripped and splattered onto the ground from the places the bird-suckers gouged their claws onto their master’s arms but--she observed from as far away as possible--either the vampires couldn’t feel it or they liked it. Maybe it was their version of cutting.

The bird-sucker swooped and pirouetted across the night clouds, tearing the city pigeons to pieces. A few nights of slaughter and the owned the skies. A few nights more, and there were no wild dogs on the island of Manhattan.

Author note:

Please bear with my i will try and update as much as i can and any comments and ideas will help and i promise to try and use all segestions.