-Hello! BadassCatNinjaXion here but that's a mouthful so call me Badass Cat, k? :3
XD I'm being random again. And probably getting on people's nerves, but Y'KNOW WHAT?! I DON'T GIVE A —-(CAKE)- . Fanfiction is about fun, right? Write about stuff you like here! And I'm experimenting. So I apologize to those people reading my other stuff and going:XIIIIIIONNNNN, WHY THE -(CAKE)- U NO UPDAAAATE?! Its because I'm not feeling that spark :P sorry. But the spark shall come again, I swear it! This concludes my absurdly long author note thing.
Now please don't hurt or judge me, but I watched Fright Night-the 2011 one not the original, and basically fell in love with it. And then the itch came. Don't judge me. XD
The story itch has compelled me to write another Fan fic rated M. Content includes: disturbing things, blood, swearing, and graphic sex in later chapters.
(yes, I write lemons :3
Ok! Read on! ...I mean, you know, if you want to... XD
Disclaimer: Whoever owns Fright Night, owns it. I only own my OC, and a pirated version of the movie.
It was about 98.5 degrees that day.
And that was indoors.
Ugh.
We had just moved from our cozy cabin in CrowsNest Pass, Alberta, Canada, to here, Nowhere, Nevada, the great U-S-of freaking-A.
Great, just flipping great.
I was not used to this kind of weather. I liked Canada.
I was used to cold, moderatly cold, freezing, and have-your-boobs-fall-off-chilly. I liked that.
I was not used to hot, hotter, boiling, and sunstroke.
I wanted to go home...
With a noise akin to a growl I stomped downstairs to the fridge, which was, (finally) unpacked. It had only taken four hours.
My father and stepmother had packed me, my brother Apollo, and our twin cats, Roo and Punkin' up a week ago and shipped us out here, to just outside of Las Vegas, where my dad's new job was as a construction worker. We had just arrived yesterday and scrambled to get our things in order. Everthing but the beds, the kitchen, and the tv was still boxed up. So much for proactivness.
We lived in a big square block of suburb houses. Just out in the desert, randomly placed, bam! Lets build us a SUBURB!
Hell, I wouldn't have known that you could live in the desert, let alone that anyone wanted to.
I was the biggest ball of teenage sulk you could find within three klicks, guaranteed.
"Ro-ose! Come outside and be social!" My father called from outside.
Mmmm no. My father was super excited about this, and he expected everyone else to be also.
I opened the fridge, basking in its chill glory for a moment, almost forgetting I lived in the desert...
"Rosalie Alexandria! You come outside this instant! And don't let me catch you leaving that fridge door open again!" Daydream shattered.
All those that hate parentals, say LET ME LIVE MY LIFE!
I slammed the fridge shut. I'd leave it open a crack later. We may not be 'cooling the neighbourhood,' but we sure as hell will be cooling this house.
With another growl under my breath, I stalked outside. My big brother Apollo was already there, socializing with a woman and what appeared to be her teenage son. If I could describe my family in the shortest way possible, I'd use two words.
Kiss. Ass.
My dad grabbed me in a huge bear hug and grinned at the lady.
"Ah! There's my babydoll! Rosalie, this is Jane, our neighbour, and her son Charley!"
My father would win the sappiest smile award, hands freaking down.
He squeezed my side rather hard. I took the cue.
"I'm Rosa. Nice to meet you. Is it always so hot here?" I addressed my question to the boy. Maybe we could relate, maybe not.
Charley, the son, just did what all boys did when seeing me for the first time.
Charley stared.
I just smiled back politely. Nope. No relating here.
I guess that means I should maybe explain why teen boys think that their girlfriends or anyone else don't exist when I'm around.
I'm 5/7, have long blue black hair due to my cree heritage, and amber/hazel eyes due to my mother.
That's what I know.
But in the words of my good friend Marcus, "you look like Megan fucking Fox to us guys."
So I let the boy stare for a bit before it got annoying. "I'm headed back in, dad. It'll be getting dark soon."
I turned around and walked away.
And that was my big social meet and greet.
Because while I have the looks of a bubbly, cheery, self centred airhead that will get all the money and the good jobs and whatnot, I definitely do not have the personality.
I'm a loner. Always have been.
Other loners seek me out sometimes, but we don't hang, or 'chill,' or whatever.
Heaven forbid, sometimes I have to run them off, because they won't leave me alone ...with a baseball bat. (I keep one in my closet just in case)
I'm a goody two shoes, no drinking, no drugs, no records except for skipping a class or two. Hell, I'm still a virgin! You didn't need to know that.
Anyway, I went back inside, hooked up my Xbox, and played Assassin's Creed until the sun went down and the air cooled off.
It felt awesome, and then and there I decided to make that a ritual of mine. Deal with the heat as best I could, and then chill at dusk on my green lawn all alone.
That's another thing.
Its the desert, how are the lawns green?
Strange people Americans, I mused to myself, Genetically engineer evergreen lawns when they can solve world hunger...
But that's just my theory.
Can you tell I'm bitter?
I was sitting on my suspiciously green lawn that first night in meditative position, eyes closed, just taking the cool in when I got prickles all down my arms.
You know that saying? Someone walked on your grave? Well, someone must have been doing the fricking can-can on my patch of sod because the amount of shivers I got was astronomical.
I opened my eyes, to see a man staring at me from the left side of the lawn. He held a shovel and looked shocked to see me. I was shocked to see him too.
Well, that explains the creepy feeling.
His expression shifted to confused as he spied me dali-lama-ing on the lawn, then his face kind of crooked into a smile and he took a single step towards me. I narrowed my eyes and he backed down, instead leaning on the shovel in his hands. He scanned me, then spoke. "Ah, thats right, you must have just moved in today. The new family. I'm Jerry Dandridge. I live right next to you. But then again, all the houses are connected so everybody Lives next to you."
He smiled warmly and waited for my name in return. I said nothing.
Like I was going to tell a complete stranger my name, never mind that he lived 'right next to me.' Why he needed to articulate that, was beyond me. It made him seem suspicious. And the way he just kept looking at me... C-R-E-E-P-Y.
I just raised an eyebrow in the classic teenage 'mmhmm that's nice, why are you telling me?' pose and waited for him to get bored and leave.
All adults did, muttering about respect for elders and irrelevant stuff like that.
But this guy just waited for me to answer, relaxing against that shovel and looking like he had all the time in the world.
I crossed my arms and sighed. "Nice to meet you Jerry, I'm Rosa."
His face lit up like a young kid's on Christmas morning. Sheesh. No need to act too friendless there, Jerry.
Jerry leaned forwards a little. "I see you still have quite a lot of moving left to do... Rosa."
I just raised an eyebrow.
"Perhaps I could help you and your family move in? It would be neighbourly... Heh. And it would give me some exercise." He chuckled, obviously thinking something was funny.
I didn't.
I was beginning to think this was one of those loners I would have to chase away... With my baseball bat.
He tilted his head a little and for some strange reason I suddenly felt like my thoughts weren't my own. For good measure, I thought "butt the fuck out."
There was no measurable response, so my thoughts must have been safe for another day.
That crooked smirk was back, as he leaned on that shovel and waited for me to respond. I found myself eying the shovel warily.
"So what do you say? Huh?" Jerry's smooth voice broke into my thoughts. "Can I help you?"
I stood–scratched my arm, stretched, looked up at the sky dreamily– anything that didn't clue the freak next door into the I'M GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE vibe I was most definitely giving off.
"I don't know... Ask my father, he's the man of the house."
And without another word, I turned and walked away, even though I felt very vulnerable exposing my back to him for some reason.
He's got a shovel. What would he use that for—burying something? I froze, halfway up the stairs. Or someone... Shivers sped up my spine at that and I banished the thought.
That's it, Rosa, I told myself sternly when I was safely in my room and able to spy on the man practically gliding back into his own house, shovel over one shoulder;
No more CreepyPastas before bed.
