Midnight Sun

My Sixtieth Eighteenth Birthday

My name is Kristoff but I'd like you to call me Top.

Today is my sixtieth eighteenth birthday.

Yup. I've been eighteen for sixty years now.

Can't really say how I feel. Happy, 'cause I'm still good-looking, or sad because I'm stuck in this age.

I was born human. But for some strange reason, on my eighteenth birthday, my first eighteenth birthday, I tried to commit suicide. I jumped out of the thirtieth floor of my dad's office because I learned that my parents are cheating on each other. I thought I was gonna die there, but no, a man named Sol saved me from death.

Sol -- no, he is not a man. And he did not save me. He was the monster who created me. The one who turned me into this. Who made my life a living hell.

Well, my life as a human was already a living hell, he just added fuel to my burning soul.

He said he did me a favor for letting me live, but for me, he just made my life worse.

I woke up in the hospital the next day with a strange pain in my throat. Like a burning sensation. Somewhat like a thirst. A thirst for blood.

My parents were there but I shooed them away. I did not allow any visitors to come into my room.

I was scratching my throat, drinking my fifth glass of water, when I heard someone laughed. It echoed across the room.

"Thirsty?" a voice said. I looked around the room but no one else is there. Then I noticed that the window is open. I'm sure I left it closed. Someone opened it.

"You cannot stop it. You will not be able to stop it." the unseen man said.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked.

Then, the wind blew strong and when I blinked, I saw the most handsome man I've ever seen. Even more handsome than me, i have to admit. He was standing right in the foot of my bed, wearing a three-piece suit. His hands on his back.

"I am Sol. I saved you." he said, wearing a smile.

I noticed his eyes are silver and he has, what the hell was that? Fangs? Yes. I am sure they are fangs. Though, it is just a bit longer and pointed than the rest of his pearly-white set of teeth. It almost looked normal, had I not noticed it.

"What are you?" can't help myself from asking that ridiculous question, my eyes fixed on his sharp fangs.

"I am a pure-blood vampire. And as for you, you are a third class." he disappeared while talking. His voice creating an echo across the room. The wind blew again. When it stopped, I saw him on the other side of the room. His back resting on the closed door. His hands are now inside his pockets. And he is still wearing that irritating smile of his.

"V-Vampire? Man, what is this? A freak show?" i tried to laugh at him. But I am now feeling a bit nervous.

"No. This is not a freak show. Though I haven't seen one before." I noticed he has that british accent. And he speaks slowly. Like men in the medieval times. Yeah right, as if I know them.

"And what do you mean I am a third class?" i asked instead. Remembering the way he classsified me. Isn't it supposed to be third rate? Not that I'm a third rate.

"A third class vampire. Because a pure-blood, me, created you." he's talking in riddles again. Then the wind blew one more time and I heard a "swoosh" sound. Next thing I knew, he disappeared again.

Nothing makes sense to me. What is this guy talking about? A vampire? Me? Come on. You gotta be kidding me.

Then, in just a blink of an eye, he's sitting right beside me on my bed. And what the hell is his perfume? Why does he smell like honey? Yuck. So much for being a pretty boy.