The innocent and cute story about Vampire The school's six students, narrated in an attempt by an amateur to make the story a little more lively, emotional, bloody, love-filled and ... vampiric. I can not promise anything, but an amateur's sudden desire to write a story completely out of the blue is not to be reversed any time soon;)
I was just, suddenly, inspired by the child program and felt that I wanted to write something ... I really hope it's worth reading! If not, thank you for giving the story a chance;)
All kinds of feedback are appreciated!
- Of minor importance, but I wrote this story originally in Swedish as that is my mother language, but I translated it to English as I assumed a larger number of people would understand the text –
And this thing - - /|\ (^;;^) /|\ is a vampire/bat, in case you wonder ^.^
One more thing: I think she's called "Gothetta" in the English version, though I was intending to keep the name "Gothilda" (amongst others it's her Swedish name) in this story. If that by any chance would bother or confuse you, please let me know!
/|\ (^;,;^) /|\
Gloom
/|\ (^;,;^) /|\
Oscar writhed and wriggled in his bed; the convulsions had made a comeback and enforced him to fold up in agony, at the same time as he could feel the panic penetrating him accompanied by cold sweat, hyperventilation and sharp twitching. He felt dizzy, his mind was but a blur and it was getting difficult to breathe; he was scared. The sweat incessantly ran down his pale skin, and although he probably would have had a high fever during normal circumstances, he felt as cold as ice, just as cold as he always had been and always would be. This torturous hell verse was occurring to the poor boy more and more often these days, and with resentment and terror he knew what horrible symptom would come next: The despicable thirst for human blood.
No, Oscar thought desperately as he lay gasping for air on the damp mattress. No, oh my God, no, not again, no, no, no, NO! Again and again he shouted the same words in his mind over and over whilst despairingly trying to get a grip of himself, but with wasted efforts; he could feel the panic slowly but surely getting the upper hand of his psyche and his mental health decreasing rapidly, concurrently being consumed from within by his inner darkness. He could feel himself quickly loosing sense and affinity to all life, the proper identification of this horrid feeling being that he was going completely insane; he knew with dread that soon he would once again become that mentally surreal monster who unconditionally slaughtered innocent people, tore up their necks and sucked and drained them of their horrible, dark red, sickening salt flavored and yet irresistibly tempting thick blood...
"No," Oscar whispered through gritted teeth and raspy breathing. He hated it here; he hated himself, he hated his fangs, his appearance, his bloodlust, his immortality, his life, his existence. Because of his nature he had been abandoned and left alone by people he did not even have the vaguest memory of any more, and because of this nature, people were constantly glaring at him like the freak he was and refused to approach him. Because of this he had finally lost his temper and actually attacked his surroundings for no reason, which inevitably had driven the audience and witnesses of the awful scene into thinking that he was nothing but a crazy psychopath, and then the townspeople had made sure that he was captured and imprisoned in this terrible, empty, dead, frowsy entirely enclosed room, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
The only things to accompany Oscar anymore were his inner demons. Here he lay, every day, every night; how long he had been here, he had lost track of, but he was here nonetheless, no matter how many times he woke up in this bed, pleading and hoping for everything to just have been a horrible nightmare. This was no dream. It was the bitter reality: He had been completely and thoroughly abandoned by everyone and everything and all that his fate had in store for him was to wait for the next sickening bloodlust attack that only got worse and worse and worse every time...
"Nej", upprepade han, och han kände knappt igen sin röst. "Jag vill inte… mer…!" Han märkte knappt att han hade rivit sönder lakanen vid det här laget, och nu kunde han knappt se händerna framför sig på grund av de oundvikliga ryckningarna och de svarta prickarna som besudlade hans syn; han fick kväljningar och vek sig dubbel än en gång, innan han till slut gav vika för ångesten och vände sitt bleka ansikte uppåt och vrålade ut all sin ilska, panik, sorg och hjälplöshet ut i tomheten, bara för att lyssna på det oändligt starka ekot som slog tillbaka mot honom, satte hans trumhinna i obalans och förvärrade yrseln något förfärligt.
Oscar stod på fötterna; han vacklade bakåt. Han kände hur fötterna gav vika under honom och hur han sakta föll mot marken som ett hopplöst offer för medvetslöshetens tomma mörker, och han tyckte måste ha tappat förståndet helt vid det här laget, för han tyckte att han såg skymten av en liten svart fladdermus någonstans på avstånd, innan mörkret slukade honom totalt och allt blev svart.
"No," he repeated, finding it hard to recognize even his own voice. "I've had… enough… already...!" He barely noticed that he had torn the sheets by now, and no matter how many times he blinked or rubbed his foggy eyes he could barely see his hands in front of him because of the inescapable twitching and the countless number of black dots that were tainting his view; he started to gag and bent over a second time, before he finally gave way to the overwhelming anxiety and rotated his pale face upward to release all of his anger, panic, grief and helplessness into the nothingness above, only to end up being forced to listen to the infinitely strong echo that bounced against the white walls and launched itself back at him, setting his eardrums out of balance and worsening the dizziness an excruciating amount.
Oscar stood up on his trembling legs; he staggered backward. At last he felt how his feet gave way under his bodyweight and how he, like in slow motion, gently fell to the rock hard floor as a hopeless victim of the unconsciousness' sea of empty darkness. His final thoughts were that he must have lost his mind completely at this point of the stage, for he thought that he saw a vague glimpse of a small black bat in the distance, just before the void of darkness swallowed him completely and everything went black.
…
…
…
…
/l\ (^;,;^) /l\
This first chapter was very short… consider an intro of some sort^^
Feel free to review and tell me what you think, if you want anything changed, added, or if you simply want to criticize or ask questions… everything is mighty appreciated and would help me develop and advance my writing techniques… Please don't flame me, though!