Here's another attempt of a story idea. Let me know if I should continue this story, this sorta came out of the blue with me. I don't know where this may go. I want to do another journal/story type of approach, like I did with Diary of FCK. This is kinda far fetched and it's something on the romantic side rather than horror. Something different is always good. Anyways, thanks for your reviews and comments and plenty of encouragement, it never goes unnoticed.

Fangtasia: what is it that I would call it? Would it be a bordello of the dead? A whorehouse of vamps and unwilling victims? I don't know. What I do know is that I am not wanting to go there. Not because of the chance of getting my neck bitten, or enjoying a watered down beer or sugary concoction of alcohol and juice; it's just not my thing. Ellen, my work buddy and only best friend, went there the other night with her gal friend who is obsessed with the culture. Honestly I do not see a point as to go since it's just bloodsuckers looking for a good time. When I was at work the other day, Ellen came to me all secretly, discreetly telling me to meet her outside for a smoke. That I know I wouldn't let down.

After dealing with my boss for what seemed to be a lifetime of bickering, bitching about my production with the company and how this place will go down the drain, I craved for that smoke and my mind kept wondering what Ellen had to tell me. Honestly, I could care less about this nonsense babbling from my boss. I would rather sit at home and just enjoy being in the sun or just curled up on the couch watching mind-numbing television; at least it would pass the time and it would be something I would do.

After the tongue lashing, I finally made it outside and lit my cigarette, inhaling the taste of the robust flavor of tobacco. I walked casually to the parking garage, where Ellen and I go for our smoke breaks. I feel like I'm hiding my habit from work, but I would rather see the entire building go up in flames and be left with nothing but ash. Okay, I don't want work to know since they will sick their smoke cessation dogs after me with brochures and gross pictures of lungs and cancer ridden people. I took another puff as I see Ellen, leaning up toward the concrete slab looking around hesitantly, making sure no one saw her take a drag off her cigarette.

Now the thing about Ellen is that she's really is a paranoid, overly optimistic person. She would usually come in, cherry- cheeked and with a smile on her face, yet she would cower or tweak like she's on acid if anyone knew her habits of smoking, drinking and having a good time. I'm not as happy as she is at 7:30 in the morning but more of 4:00 on a Friday afternoon, knowing I wouldn't have to see this dumb for 2 days.

Ok…I'm not a person who is a downer; I do have some perks in my life I always look forward to. It's just moving from New York, where I call home and will always return when she calls, to Bon Temps, then to work in New Orleans. I thought that taking this job I would be able to enjoy myself with the French Quarter, eating great gumbo and having a time of my life with southern hospitality. It has far been the opposite. I work 8-10+ hours every day and I sometimes I have nothing to show for it. My dinky little apartment is nothing too extravagant with the leaks and creaks it bellows in the middle of the night, interrupting necessary sleep.

Anyways, enough of my life, Ellen was smoking pretty heavily since I got outside. The smoke was still wrapped around her with the humidity in the air.

"What is it that you want to tell me?" I asked her inquisitively. She looked around, as if she had some top secret information to tell me on the case of life and death.

"Have you been to that vampire bar, Fangtasia?"

You have got to be kidding me. Ellen, of all people, went to a place where vampires prey on young and old and the young seem to look forward to a good sucking/draining.

"Ellen, why in the hell would you go to that place?" I felt my anger start to come through. I've told her not to go there; nothing good comes from that place and it seems that people only go there to get pulled into the bullshit of vampires and gothic ties of false gods. I looked at her, feeling dumbfounded that she went.

"Now hear me out, Cillian, I know I told me your point of view, but honestly it's not all that bad. I mean it's a vampire bar and yes they serve True Blood but it's still a decent place."

A decent place. She just didn't utter those words to describe that place. I rolled my eyes and walked in a circle. "Listen Ellie, you have a way with making something seem "decent" and turns into a pile of crap."

I knew that she was getting pissed since she was puffing harder on her cigarette. She knew when I was right and when I was wrong. I mean she was my only friend here that had all of her teeth and didn't possess a strange twang southern accen.t. She didn't grew up here either, claiming she was from North Dakota but I couldn't see her bearing with the cold winds and winters. She seemed very brittle anyways even a slight nudge would send her flying into the nearest tree, breaking every bone, splintering into her muscles and out her paper-thin skin.

"Cillian, if you don't believe me, why don't you go yourself? You need to stop judging everything just because society believes that it's horrible that such a place exists or that things there happen. They happen. They exist. So either just accept it and never experience it, or go there yourself and see what there is to see." I haven't heard her speak up like this in a while. What caused her to do this? She never did speak up this way to me, at least. Maybe she's on some super drug that was slipped in her little cocktail..

I've never considered myself negative but if Ellie sees that I am, maybe I do need to make a change. Maybe I need to get over it and just see what this so called Fangtasia is all about.

"Ellie, I'm sorry. I've just been under a lot of stress since I moved here and with the expectations of what I was told and what was seen wasn't what I thought it was. I know that I've only been here 6 months and you have been for over 2 years."

"That's your problem, Cillia," she explained, "You have been cooped up in your apartment and never really went out to experience the town. Tell you what, why don't we both go to Fangtasia, so that you don't feel so compelled. Also since I've been there, I know where it is and what is to be expected. Plus you never know if you will have some fun, for once."

She did have a point. It's been nothing but work then home. Work then home. Maybe I should just swallow my pride and go, and I may enjoy myself, who knows. I just hope I don't get drained and left for dead by a dumpster.

"Alright, Ellie. When do you wanna go?" I asked her, holding my breath on the date she decides.

"Why not this weekend? Saturday night good for you?" she asked with bright eyes.

"Sure," I said quickly, "Saturday sounds fine. How about we take your car and you come by around 9:00?"

"Alright! Make sure you wear something pretty and acutally put some make-up and take the time to do your hair." I didn't know whether to take that as a joke or an insult but I chuckled to amuse her.

She glanced down at her watch, checking the time as to when we had to head back into the bull pen. "Shit, we're late. I told Bryan I would be back around 3 and it's a half hour past."

We turned around sharply and headed toward the building. Sitting there at my desk, I found myself questioning how my Saturday night will be. Will I be bitten? Am I going to be the center of attention? Will I have a scent on me that will distract/attract them to me? I got ahead of myself and felt that thinking irrationally will not suffice the aching feeling in the pit of my stomach. This isn't going to go away.