It was another warm and moonless night in the early spring for South Central, Los Angeles. The old and worn out buildings were dimly lit by the last operational streetlights, which was of no difference to the usual, and all but one thing was different; and that thing was that tonight, was the night when Michael Deric would get his gift: he had waited a long time for this night. His friends were all saying that that night, he would become "a god". His friends had organized a group of Goth kids which had an extremely violent style to Michael's point of view. For example, they only came out at night, and when they did, they would attack young animals and stick they're teeth into the poor beast's neck, would it be alive or not. Then, they would drink its blood till it was dried. And sometimes, if they didn't find animals, they would catch a child and use him instead. However Michael had had a horrible life, which lead him to thievery, violence and even once, murder, so one atrocity more, or one less wasn't of any effect on him. He was barely seven, and was still an innocent child till his father got drunk and beat him fiercely. From then on, his father beat him regularly, and sometimes even, daily for weeks. But tonight, all that was going to change.
Michael now was ready for the ritual: he was dressed fully in black, apart from a bright red t-shirt, barely visible under his jacket. As he looked at himself in his mirror, he made sure that his thick black hair was cut neatly in a way that wouldn't hide any of his physical features, his large green cat-like eyes, or a scar he received during a fight with his father. His pale skin seemed whiter than ever, although he wasn't scared.
Now Michael didn't always have such a pitiful life: while his mother was still around, he was quite happy. Of course he had a small problem from time to time, but who didn't? His life turned entirely when his mother died in a freak accident, and his father blamed Michael for her death; come to think of it, his father blamed him for everything from then on.
Michael slowly walked to his bedroom window to see his neighborhood:
His window gave on a few buildings and alleys, and a seemingly never-ending road.
The worn out bricks of the buildings seemed as though they would fall apart under the rain that besieged them. The few working street-lights where all in pitiful shape, and gave no light to the alleys, each of which encouraged you to leave.
He immediately started heading for the Bronx, where the ritual was to happen. Once he arrived there, he was greeted by Erica, a young girl of around his age, though higher in ranks within their little community. She always had attracted Michael, and this night, he found her particularly attractive, as she had let her pitch-black hair fall, allowing her to tie it into a ponytail. It was glowing under the light given by the stars, and she looked even more impressive than usual, her clothes being entirely black as well. She easily reached the meter fifty of height, and the unusual light, which seemed to come from within her gave her an inhumane look.
From within her? No, Michael was being delirious. There had to be a street-light or…Michael looked around, but none of the street-lights where functional. They either where broken, or off.
"Hey Michael…ready to become a god?" said she, grinning in an almost inhumane way.
"Yah…I'm kind of nervous though…"
"Don't be…you know you can trust us right?"
Sure.'
With that, Erica turned on her heels and told Michael to follow her.
"Ey Erica…"
"Mmm?"
"You've had this done to you before right?"
"Oh MILLENIA ago…" said she, rolling her eyes.
"K…"
They had finally arrived in the ceremonial area; a large, round area, within a burnt down cathedral, in which they had painted a pentagram. That night, like on every ceremony, they had put candles on each edge of the pentagrams branches, as well as on the immense crystal chandelier. All the candles strangely glowed of a green, haunting color. As he entered the room, he remembered his life that he was about to leave. He knew that once this was over, his life would never be the same again. He remembered his childhood as it was when his mother was still there to protect him from his father, and how he still had childish innocence. All his past, fear, love, happiness, pain and anger all seemed to run through him in the same time. In the center of the pentagram stood Josh, the "elder" of the group.
Josh wore a black jacket of the finest leather, and baggy jeans. He had brown leather gloves, with metal knuckles put on them. Michael knew that this wasn't only to look classy; The Bronx was often attacked by cops trying to get the teenagers. But they always ended up with two holes on both sides of their necks, if not more.
"Come Michael…"
Michael followed the orders one by one…he wanted everything to be perfect; he wanted to prove the others he was worthy of being one of them; and most of all, he wanted to get Erica to admire him as much as he did her. She had always been nice to him, and now, he would be at her rank, and he would show her he was worthy of her affections.
He now was facing Josh; he was extremely impressive from close; Michael noticed that Josh's pupil where white, empty; soulless. Michael felt as if he could see through a window, giving on a world of desperation.
"Tilt your head slightly."
As soon as Michael did so, Josh opened his mouth, showing Michael his fangs; for it wasn't teeth that Michael saw approaching his neck, but two, long, sharpened, silvery fangs.
"This won't take long…"
Firstly, Michael only felt coldness as the fangs reached his skin; but then, they pierced through; this went too fast to truly hurt Michael, but then…
At first, he simply felt dizzy as his blood reached Josh's fangs. Next, was simply a trickly feeling. Then arrived true pain; as if his blood was leaving him, taking his life with it; he felt as though his whole body was burning from the inside. The pain was incredible; never had he even imagined such pain, sufferance, and power could combine into a single feeling. He felt as though his body would collapse under the pain; he wanted Josh to stop, and to take his fangs out; but it was too late to freak out; he hoped it all was nearly over. But somehow, a part of his body wanted it to never end, as the feeling of power was so strong, he started forgetting his pain. Then a new feeling arose in him: a feeling of emptiness. He didn't feel his heart beating anymore; he tried to breath, but he couldn't; he felt his muscles stretching. He felt as if he were mutating, as his teeth were growing and getting sharper. His hearing and sight became more acute, but he thought he lost all feeling: the pain was gone now, and he felt better than ever. Strength overwhelmed him, and he felt semi-invincible. While the process was happening, he saw the other members of the clan staring at him; he recognized a few of them, namely Jarod, an old friend of his. He also recognized Garret, a newbie to the clan.
"You're one of us Michael…"said Josh with his deep, demonic voice.
"What…?"said Michael as he looked at the two quizzically.
Erica walked up to him.
"Welcome, to the word of Darkness…"
"What're you two talking about?"
"You now are one of us Michael…the true top of the food chain…"said Erica, smiling.
"You are a vampire. We all are."
OOOOK…
Again another version. Hm…what to say…? Ah I know! I am sick of this fic, so if you don't like it… Maybe, just maybe I'll re-vamp it AGAIN in a while…maybe not. If I get more than five different problems, I'll re-write it. MASSIVE thanks to Icy Mike Molson. I owe him loads! (As in over six pages of advice…)J