The Vampire Club
- Reads 217
- Votes 7
- Parts 5
Have you ever felt so alone that you started to see spirits? If you have, then you are lucky. I wish I could see spirits. Maybe then I would have someone to talk to. I do have friends. But I don't talk to them very much. Only when I see them at school. Even then, I don't talk to them very much. We just don't have much in common. They are in to guys and fashion. Guy's don't really notice me and I only wear whatever is comfortable. I'm more interested on doing things on my own (but I hate being alone). There is one thing that I'm obsessed with. Vampires.
I could handle being alone if I was a vampire of the night. Then I could fly off into the night and never look back. I could see the world. At night anyway. Well, all vampire stories are different. Some vampires can handle the light and some disintegrate. I want to be my own special vampire. One who can walk around with regular humans and go to school in the daylight. I would want to be a vampire princess.
Anyway, all that doesn't matter. That's just a silly dream that all lonely people want to come true. My mother said I need to get out of the house more and stop daydreaming about my life and go create my own future. Alexandria Calvin does not have anything to do outside. I hate my name. I like to call myself Alex. But my mom calls me by the name that is on my birth certificate. My father use to call me Alex, until he died from heart cancer.
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Innocent Little Runt (sample)
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.
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