Ah, vampires.
The ultimate fantasy, right?
My name is Shane, twenty-one years young, and let me tell you, I've got a thing for those blood-sucking badasses.
Not the sparkly teen heartthrob kind, which college girls swoon over. Nah, fuck them. Give me the real deal.
The ones who lurk in the shadows, all pale skin and sharp eyes, whispering sweet speeches before they sink their fangs into the veins of a neck. It's like the perfect mix of danger and seduction.
Who wouldn't want to be immortal, roaming the night, picking off the prettiest prey like it's a buffet?
I mean, forget dating apps; vampires just show up and bam—eternal love. Or at least eternal something for life.
Me? I'd kill for that life.
Or, well, get killed for it.
Same difference.
But here I am, stuck in my crappy one-bedroom apartment, listening to the symphony of squeaky bedsprings and over-the-top moans from next door.
Again.
It's like living next to a low-budget porno set.
"Oh yeah, baby, right there!"
The voice echoes through the weak walls, followed by what sounds like a dying chorus trying to sing opera.
Jesus, guys, get a room.
Wait, they have one. Mine's just attached.
I bury my face in my pillow, trying to drown it out, but nope.
It's non-stop.
Thump-thump-thump, like they're auditioning for the furniture demolition Olympics.
"Why can't my life be more like a vampire novel?" I mutter to myself, staring at the ceiling crack that looks vaguely like Dracula's cape.
"Instead of this sensory assault, I'd be out there, cape billowing, charming some damsel with my hypnotic gaze. 'Come hither, mortal,' I'd say, all smooth and mysterious. Not 'Hey, could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to binge-watch Buffy reruns.'"
Another moan spreads through the air, louder this time, like they're escalating to surround sound. Now it's a fucking duet.
I groan and sit up, rubbing my eyes.
My room's a mess: posters of classic horror flicks plastered everywhere, a stack of vampire comics teetering on my desk, and my laptop glowing with the latest fanfic tab open.
Ha, yeah right.
In this dumpy neighbourhood? The only things biting around here are mosquitoes and depression.
I throw on my hoodie—black, naturally, to match my inner goth—and slip out the door, locking it behind me with a click that feels way too final for a quick errand.
The hallway smells like pizza and noodles, but hey, it's better than the sex soundtrack. Down the stairs I go, jumping two at a time, humming the Interview with the Vampire theme under my breath.
The night air hits me like a cool slap when I step outside. Crisp, with that urban scent of exhaust and distant rain.
The streets are mostly empty, neon signs buzzing from the few open spots. Perfect vampire hunting grounds, if you ask me.
The convenience store's just a block away, its fluorescent lights flickering like they're on their last leg. I push through the door, the bell jingling like an annoying sidekick.
Behind the counter is Mia, my college buddy. Or ex-buddy, since I kinda ghosted classes this semester.
She's got those thick-rimmed glasses that make her look like a sexy librarian in a rom-com, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail. She's scrolling on her phone, probably doom-scrolling reels, when she looks up and does a double-take.
"Shane? Holy crap, is that you?"
Mia's eyes widen behind her lenses, like she's seen a ghost. Or, y'know, a vampire.
"I thought you dropped off the face of the earth! You haven't shown up to lit class in weeks. Professor Shaun keeps asking if you're okay, or if you finally joined that cult you were joking about."
I let out a laugh, rubbing the back of my neck as I grab a soda from the fridge. Cherry cola, because why not pretend it's blood?
"Cult? Nah, just the Church of Eternal Night. Sacrifices every Tuesday." I plop the can on the counter, fishing out some crumpled bills. "Seriously, though, college is... meh. Too much daylight, not enough capes. Figured I'd take a break, y'know? Live my best nocturnal life."
Mia rings me up, shaking her head with that half-amused, half-concerned look she always gives me.
"Nocturnal life? You mean sitting in your room obsessing over vampires? Shane, come on. You're twenty-one, not twelve. Get back to class before you flunk out and end up working nights like me."
She hands me my change, her fingers brushing mine just a tad longer than necessary. Or maybe I'm imagining it.
"And hey, if you're out here at this hour, watch yourself. Weirdos everywhere."
"Weirdos? Please, I'm the king of weirdos." I wink, popping the tab on my soda and taking a swig.
It fizzes like tiny fireworks in my mouth—refreshing, but nothing like the thrill I crave.
"Thanks for the concern, Mia. You're the best. Catch you later, maybe in class, if I feel like facing the sun."
She rolls her eyes but smiles. "You'd better. And text me sometime, dummy. Don't be a stranger."
"Promise," I say, backing out the door with a mock salute.
The bell jingles again as I step into the night, feeling a bit lighter. Mia's cool, always has been. If I weren't so hung up on fictional bloodsuckers, maybe I'd ask her out.
But nah, vampires first.
I sip my soda, strolling down the sidewalk, the city lights painting everything in electric hues.
Up ahead, there's this dingy alley between the store and some abandoned warehouse, prime spot for shady stuff. As I pass by, I hear it: low moans, unmistakable.
Not again.
Sounds like someone's having a hell of a time in there. I catch a glimpse, just shadows, really , a scruffy homeless guy pressed against a wall with a blonde woman who's all legs and giggles.
They're going at it like the world's ending tomorrow.
"Lucky guy," I mutter under my breath, shaking my head with a chuckle. "At least someone's getting some action tonight. Me? Just me and my soda, dreaming of fangs."
I keep walking, not wanting to intrude on their... whatever.
The alley fades behind me, but the night feels thicker now. The streetlights start to flicker. One by one, like they're winking at me.
Buzz-buzz-flicker.
"Power cut? Or is this my dramatic entrance into a horror movie?" I joke to myself, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Footsteps scuff the sidesteps behind me.
"Hey! You!"
Before I could turn, a knife stabbed me. My hands spread over my stomach. When I pull them away, they are soaked in red blood.
"Well," I wheeze, "That's... not a hickey."
A terrible cold begins to creep up from my toes. I try to shout for help, maybe for Mia back at the store, but all that comes out is a wet gurgle.
The flickering streetlight above me is the last thing I see, buzzing like a dying insect.
So this is it?
My gothic romance ended before it even began. Or so I thought.
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