***Before you read this, I want it to be known that I'm not some vampire
worshipper or Satanist. I've never drank blood, killed anyone, or anything
of that nature. This is just a short fic. that may or may not turn into
something else....(Depending on the response I get.) This is just how I
felt at the moment and was in the mood to write a Lost Boys fic. because I
needed a break from Stand By Me.....anyway R/R...ohhh yeah this is from
Marko's POV because I like him best. Marko/ Paul....close contest, but
Marko won***
Lost-How I Feel
Lost is a feeling I know very well. I mean hello, I'm a Lost Boy. But I was saved by a group of guys, that I never thought existed. Sure, we're vicious killers, and there's a reason we live in the murder capitol of the world. But beyond all that, beyond the semblance of a blood-thirsty vampire, there's more. So much more that it's hard to explain. I can't even comprehend it most of the time. But I try not to question it. I accept it, and I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful for my pack, my life....or death rather. Kind of ironic isn't it? I mean I'm dead, but I've never felt more alive. I have control for the first time in my life, and it's a feeling like no other. Like the greatest high imaginable. I'm calling the shots, and for once I'm the hunter not the hunted. It's the law of the jungle man. Kill or be killed. I'm never gonna die...or grow old....or get sick.. It's a 24/7 party, with the boardwalk as our house, tourists our beer, and each other as friends. My pack, a few cigarettes, some blood, and that's it. I don't need anything more or anything less. Or so I thought........
Lost-How I Feel
Lost is a feeling I know very well. I mean hello, I'm a Lost Boy. But I was saved by a group of guys, that I never thought existed. Sure, we're vicious killers, and there's a reason we live in the murder capitol of the world. But beyond all that, beyond the semblance of a blood-thirsty vampire, there's more. So much more that it's hard to explain. I can't even comprehend it most of the time. But I try not to question it. I accept it, and I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful for my pack, my life....or death rather. Kind of ironic isn't it? I mean I'm dead, but I've never felt more alive. I have control for the first time in my life, and it's a feeling like no other. Like the greatest high imaginable. I'm calling the shots, and for once I'm the hunter not the hunted. It's the law of the jungle man. Kill or be killed. I'm never gonna die...or grow old....or get sick.. It's a 24/7 party, with the boardwalk as our house, tourists our beer, and each other as friends. My pack, a few cigarettes, some blood, and that's it. I don't need anything more or anything less. Or so I thought........
