We are the ghouls of London // PHAN

•EPULOUGE•

As the sirens sound out around the town, Sam Kassidy whipped her mouth.

Looking down, she could see the person she had just feasted on.

He was covered in blood. In fact, his face was so covered it was hard to tell where his features were on his face.

"You poor thing," she whispered as she smirked, "You poor, little dead thing."

It was this sight that made Sam cackle. She heard the sounds of footsteps of people from emergency service approach. She turned on her heal to face a glass window, "That's my queue." and off she went, jumping through the window to the ground and ran away from her crime.

What Sam didn't know though was that the boy then struggled and took a breathe. It was a weak breathe. But it was a symbol he was alive still.

As the emergency services came, even they feared how the boy looked.

"Is... is he even alive?" One of the people asked as he held the stretcher.

"Maybe... probably not..." The other said, taking a sip of the last of his coffee before dumping the cardboard Starbucks cup into the conveniently placed bin next to him.

The boy made a small shaky breathe which somehow the medics heard because of atmosphere being so silent them. So silent you could have heard a pin if it had been dropped.

"Oh my god," they said in unison, and ran over to the boy.

He was in his black skinny jeans; his top was covered in blood so no one could identify the pattern on it, if there even was one. As one person put the boy on the stretcher, the other looked through the backpack lying to one side, seeing to find an identity for the boy.

It appeared a school bag, books and wrappers of various 50p crisps and sweets littering it. The medic picked out a green exercise book and read the front.

"Daniel Howell. Year 10."