Euphoric
Writer's note: Hey all! Welcome to the first chapter of Euphoric. Lately I've been thinking about starting up a vampire short story.I don't really know the story line at all. I'm basically throwing all of this out randomly. It's the creative writer within me. So, let's see what happens. By the way, I use names almost always in accordance to the meaning of the name…
First Chapter: The Beginning
A groggy teen bitterly cracks his shovel into the blanket of ice covering the windshield of his beat up, old Chevrolet. Small specks of snow pepper his dusty brown hair.
"Stupid snow. Stupid ice," he grumbles. He smashes a large chunk of ice, dozens of tiny, freezing crystals spewing down his coat arm. "Hey!" he snaps, ice clinging to his bare arm. "Damn it! I'm even wearing a coat!" He takes hold of the coat fabric and rubs it against the arm, desperately seeking to wipe away the cold water. "This is a good way to start off the night shift. Thank you, winter." Aaric flings open his car door, falling into the worn leather seat. His long face darkens as another blanket of snow tumbles onto the windshield from the tree above. "Just get through it, Aaric," he murmurs, palm digging into his forehead. Driving the clutch forward he taps down on the accelerate, pulling out into the busy New York street. A mixture of gas exhaust, smoke, and misery floats into Aaric's car. He inhales deeply. "Ahh, the sweet smell of New York."
After some fifteen minutes Aaric parks behind his work place of nearly two years, the Lights Off club. The rusty brick walls of the club's back are painted in graffiti and darkness. A deep sigh is heaved as he opens the back door and steps into the bustling kitchen, nearly beheaded by a passing chef savagely beating the air with a meat cleaver.
"Think they can criticize my food?" he roars.
"Hey, Cole!" Aaric calls, quickly dismissing himself from the kitchen to follow his fellow co-worker and friend. "Dude, who shoved an iron pole up Benny's ass?" He catches up to Cole, entering the staff lounge. Cole shrugs and swipes away his jet black bangs, icy blue eyes like brilliant pools of insight. He shoves his hands into his back pants' pockets, bearing a toothy grin.
"Some new customer said his steak was too rough or something. All I know is that it cracks me up watching Benny squirm!" The friend isn't necessarily short, but he stands a noticeable few inches shorter than Aaric. Compared to Aaric's long face and deep, contemplating brown eyes, Cole can look rather out of place. Not to mention his rather humorous mixture of such amazingly deep hair and bright blue eyes. Aaric can't remember how many times his friend has been questioned on his "surprised" look. "I can't help it!" He would argue, and Aaric would muffle a chuckle.
"Nice." Making his way over to his little cubby Aaric's brow cocks in suspicion. "What's this?" He slips his hand over a slim envelope resting on his uniform. "Don't tell me I got another ticket or something."
"Maybe you got a promotion or something," Cole suggests with a secretly bitter chuckle. Aaric catches his secret remark. Everyone knows Cole has been pining for a promotion to bartender for the past three months. A terrifying shatter comes from the kitchen along with the sound of garbled voices. "Listen man, I gotta get back. I wanna see this!"
"Sure thing, man," Aaric muses, finger wriggling under the envelope flap. He listens to his friend exit, fingers slipping over a sleek card. "Hm?" Pinching the card, he lifts it out of its crinkled package. "What the hell--?" At first the card looks like a simple plastic business card; no words or etching. A prank. "Thanks guys." Just before he stuffs the piece of trash back in its casing, a flicker comes from the surface. A spark of light. A lick of red. Bringing the card back to view, he scrutinizes the surface. Another flash comes, words spelling out across the front. Or at least they could be words. The strange symbols etch in one after the other, filling up the entire card.
"Aaric!"
"Y-Yes?" Aaric stutters, jumping five feet in the air at the sound of his manager's voice. He awkwardly shoves the blinking card back into its wrapping, stuffing the envelope in his back pocket.
Kirk, his manager glares at the envelope peeking out of his back pocket. "You know the club's rules on drugs."
"It isn't dru-"
"Get to work!" he orders, disappearing behind the door. Coaxing out a smooth breath, he calms his racing heart, and snatches his waiting apron, tying it hastily behind his back. On his way out, he collides straight into the idle Cole.
"Whoa, dude! Cool it. Kirk left." His friend chuckles, slapping Aaric's shoulder. "Oh, and I don't feel like taking out the trash-so be a pal?" Clutching the foul smelling black trash bag, Cole shoves in into his friend's arms. Of course, Aaric can't expect anything different. Cole is pushy and Aaric is a push over. Such wonderful ingredients for a healthy friendship.
"I suppose it'll get me out of five extra minutes of waiting tables. Thanks friend," Aaric grins, simply milking the sarcasm. Retreating out the back door, he tightens his grip on the slippery plastic handles.
"I don't know!" a desperate voice cries.
"Well let's just wait here until you do know, eh?" another challenging voice incites. Aaric freezes, dropping the bag at his feet. Unfortunately, there are several beer glasses within the bag that clink loudly as they connect with the harsh cement ground. "What was that?" Although never caught in
the middle of a gang fight Aaric decides that he wants to keep it that way. Turning around quickly, he clasps his clammy hands over the door knob. "Hey, what's this?" A fast hand apprehends his shoulder, tearing him back.
"Let me go! Damn it! I-I have a gun!" A cold, sly laugh echoes off the brick alley walls. A pair of strong hands grabs the fabric of Aaric's front shirt, slamming him up against the wall. "Ow! Please! I'm broke!" The blunt wall causes his spine to ache and skin to crawl due to the freezing temperature.
"Such a silly boy. It's a good thing you're cute." The pair of hands drops him. Suddenly a choking arm rams up into Aaric's throat, cutting off a good supply of oxygen.
"I thought you said I was cute!" Aaric gasps, clawing at the arm.
The voice comes again, face cloaked behind a façade of darkness. "I did. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to kill you. The cute ones are the tastiest…" Through the blackness, Aaric catches a twinge of silver gleam. "This won't hurt but for a moment..."
