Some may call it a mere accident, but the trees who whistled their warnings might say otherwise.

Their leaves shook in a loud, crying plea to any animal. Oh, how much they wanted them to understand. Yet every night they’d watch those poor creatures wander past their gates, not able to do anything but scream. The sound was always muffled, like yelling into a pillow. A noise of dispair, yet something others are unable to place.

The night was darker than most, only the stars dotted the sky. The moon left the world in the trees care.

If only they didn’t fail.

The first tree that spotted the raccoons brightly ringed tail was quick to cry out, whistling and waving their branches, but alas, they weren’t noticed.

The second and third tree continued the train, but even the tallest, loudest tree lost hope. The raccoon could hear none of them.

They all wanted to close their eyes as they watched him wander closer and closer.

But they couldn’t.

They had to watch.

Squeal!

Bam!

Tears dripped on the leaves, drops of dew that would last until the morning sun comforted them.

The forest shook at the loss, but the trees just watched and cried.

That’s all they could do, really.

They watched the scene somberly, a woman got out of the car and knelt down next to the raccoon in the headlights. She stroke his fur as he took shaky, hopeless breaths.

“It’s okay.” Her voice was high-pitched and mournful. “You’re going to a better place. I promise.”

The trees chimed in with their agreement.

Then she plunged a knife into the raccoons chest.

GREG

“AUBREY! Put the knife down!” I stagger behind the couch as my girlfriend, who is about to be my ex-girlfriend after I get out of this, comes forward to me with a knife. Eyes crazed and mouth wide as she breathes shakily.

“Are you scared, Greg?” She whispers. She darts to the left and I go the opposite direction. “Don’t be scared.”

I walk backwards, slowly, like I’m trying to escape an enraged bear. My foot catches on something, and I tumble onto my back.

Aubrey’s on me in a split second. Her knee is on my leg, the knife pressing on my abdomen preventing me from going anywhere.

“A-Aubrey….” A whimper escapes me as she pushes the blade deeper. God, if I knew she was this crazy, I would’ve never answered her letter.

“Are you scared?” She asks, once more. Her long brown hair is a curtain, hiding the rest of the room, leaving me to only stare at her gleaming, green eyes.

“Y-yes.”

She stares at me for a moment, then plunges the knife into my stomach.

ADON

I don’t understand why Miss King had to take my room. The woman could’ve taken the couch, and I wouldn’t be in this terrible mood right now. But what Jack says goes. Also, Miss King looked rather frightened of Thomas when we obtained her; she’s been locking herself up to avoid him.

It’s night time, dark and quiet except for the occasional grunts of Holland washing, by hand, Thomas’ soiled pants. He curses as he does, swearing that he had to find some water proof—blood proof, really—clothing soon.

Before he’d done that, Holland had tucked me and my newest doll, who I had to sew a new arm after Thomas ate it, Trinity, in bed after dinner. Miss Penny had eaten as well, locked inside my room. Thomas and Jack are busy with something related to our next job. They drove off to some place to talk more about it with another one of Jack’s friends. I know I should be going to sleep, but it just isn’t happening.

I slip out of my bed, leaving Trinity to sleep as she always does, bandages wrapped around her bruised, decaying body, and walk quietly to the kitchen were Holland is working in the sink. His back is to me, so he startles when I wrap my arms around his waist.

“You’re still up, Addie?” I press my cheek against his back, nodding, rubbing against him.

“Feel like something bad’s gonna happen,” I mumble, “Can’t sleep.”

Holland sighs, then turn in my embrace to stroke my head with his cold, wet hands. “We can go to sleep together in a moment, okay sweetums?”

I nod, suddenly feeling droopy. “Alright.”

AUBREY

Death follows those who beg for it.

Am I of such? I suppose I am. Ha! It’s just that I can’t control my Itch, itchy, itchy ITCH.

I walk silently through the dark streets of the night, knowing that in the morning the police would find Greg’s dead body in the tub. The neighbor had to hear him. I sigh. I really did like Greg; he was a good man.

I bite the inside of my lip hard, wishing for the pain to be worse than it was. “DAMN THIS ITCH!”

“What itch are you talking about, Miss?” An Asian man, followed by a tall White one, asks, face in a taunting grin. His companion is the opposite, and…why are his nostrils flaring?

Oh. My eyes narrow as I back away. Fellow human’s with the Itch. It may not be the same as mine, but I can sense it on them.

“Stay—stay away from me! I don’t want anything to do with you!”

The Asian man grins. “Well now I’m interested!”

“Can I eat her?” The other man gruffs out.

Instead of being surprised, I take the knife that was in my waistband out and hold it in front of me. My Itch comes back in full force, tingling my arms and mind.

“This is your last warning,” they continue to stalk towards me, “Piss off, now!”

But it seems that their own Itches drive them forward. And keeps on doing so.

———

(This was in my drafts for so long. 2 weeks, maybe? I’ve just finished watching Hilda on my grandparents’ TV; I recommend it. The hurricane and tornadoes are long gone from this area! Yippee! Anyways, thanks for reading and have an amazing day!)

“Anya, put the knife down.”

She doesn’t make a move, only stares at me.

“I’m your friend. You can’t kill me.”

She takes a shaky breath that sounds more like a gasp. “You don’t understand how much this means to me. I need the money. Don’t you see?”

“And I need my life. It’s just a twisted game.”

She takes a step towards me. Her hand trembles. “I wouldn’t have played if I didn’t need to. And I didn’t know we’d be the last two people left.”

“Because you thought… that somebody else would have taken me out for you.”

She nods, looking relieved. “I’m glad you understand.”

“I don’t! I don’t see why we can’t just be done with it now. Since we’re the last two left in the game, we can each leave with 50,000 dollars.”

“Or, if I kill you and become the last person standing, I can leave with 100,000.”

“Why don’t you get it?” I cry out. “50,000 dollars is a lot of money!”

“Actually,” she says, “I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand. At school, the other kids always asked me why I looked so hungry, why I had to walk every day when the other parent drove their kids to school, why I didn’t have the designer clothes that everyone else had. You grew up rich, so of course you don’t get it. You never could.”

I’ve never seen anything like the disdain in her eyes until this moment, the undisguised envy and hatred.

“You’re mad at me because my parents had a lot of money?” I ask.

“The reason doesn’t matter. What does it that I’m going to kill you.”

I’ve never felt so betrayed. From the moment I applied to join the game, I knew that it wouldn’t be pretty. But I never thought it would be this bad. I should’ve seen it coming. The Survival Game is all about money. It starts with 100,000 dollars that are divided evenly among every contestant. The more people that are killed, the more money for the remaining contestants.

“And why did you play?” She questions me. “You have enough money already.”

“For… for fun,” I admit, finally hearing how bad it sounds.

“See? You brought this upon yourself.”

Anya advances, taking a step forward, knife held high above her head. She’s a mere few feet away from me now.

“Please don’t,” I whisper softly.

The knife wobbles in her hand.

“Listen to me!” I shriek. “You’re going to let go of the knife. We can talk later.”

“I’m sorry. I need to do this.”

“Anya. Stop it, now.”

“If listening to you means things will go back to how they were before,” she says, “I don’t think I will.”

She stares at me for a moment, then plunges the knife into my stomach.

“You!” She exclaimed, her anger ringing throughout the halls.

The urge to run is high but it’s pointless as there’s no way to outrun her and there are no more places to hide. I gave her a look of neutrality, hoping that maybe she’d have mercy on me but I knew she wouldn’t. She never did.

She grabbed my arm, harshly pulling me into our bedroom. Releasing my arm, she pointed to a spot in the middle of the floor. I walked, ever so obedient but she knows it’s a facade. Once there, she moved to pull her mirror in front of me, ordering me to stare at its reflection. It wasn't my reflection I saw. No, instead, I saw five figures all young and of various ages holding onto the very wand that would be the kingdom’s salvation. I smiled, ripping off my placating mask.

“How dare you, Gareth?!” She screeched, her body shaking. “After all I’ve done for you!”

I took a deep breath. “What evidence do you have that proves I'm a part of this?”

“Your horrifying glee should be enough evidence but you and I both know that only you know the location of the wand that granted me my powers.”

“Not anymore, it seems.”

She pulled her mirror away, placing it back where it belonged which is by the bed we’ve spent years sharing. A bed that I had come to hate.

“Why are you doing this?” She said, turning to me with pleading eyes so similar to the ones I used to love.

If I stared long enough maybe I would’ve caught sight of the light that I used to see in her dance once again. I looked away, knowing that the one I loved had disappeared so long ago.

Years ago, well, more like centuries ago, I fell for a girl by the name of Helena. Her heart was as sweet as a baker’s confectionary made with the utmost care. Her beauty was only second to her nature. She was everything to me. Everything between us had changed once she met a master of magic by the name of Hector. Hector was older and his sweet words felt like poison to my ears but my warnings went unheard as she continued to follow after him. Helena’s first dance with dark magic happened in our eighteenth year. Well, my first sight of it. My dog, frosting had died and I was heartbroken. One night, Helena had come to my door covered in dirt, and in her hands was frosting who barked at me with delight. I didn’t think much of it then as I was so happy to have my dog back but then it got worse. Helena’s mentor Hector had requested she do something dastardly but she had refused…at first.

She ran over to my house one night sobbing as she told me of the evil Hector requested she do.

“He wants me to take a life but I am no murderer,” she said in between sobs.

“Marry me,” I said in reply.

She pulled away from me, her expression changing from distraught to uncertain.

“Please, I’ll treat you kind and right, I swear it.”

“Would you want me to keep house?” She asked.

“Well, yes but I could try to help along with you.”

“Do you want me to birth your children?”

“I’d like a couple,” I admitted, thinking about the life I spent many nights dreaming we’d have. “A boy and a little girl maybe.”

She rubbed her hands on her dress. “When you look at me do you just see a bride and a future mother?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“Hector offered me more. He told me I could be more. I am more,” she said, moving away from me.

“Helena, I love you.”

Helena looked at me with stern eyes that turned me to stone. “It isn’t enough.”

After that, her nature changed. She was no longer sweet or kind but only craved control. Hector had died and she kept his remains to create the frame of her mirror. Her mirror which helped her keep an eye on everyone around her. Even with all her changes I had foolishly still loved her. We had a small wedding where our only attendants were reanimated corpses of my parents. Back then, I told her I was thankful for her gift but I couldn’t get my parents' almost lost expressions out of my mind.

It’s an expression I see often on my face whenever I see my reflection. It’s the effect Helena has on those around her.

“I gave you everything, my love!” Helena shouted, taking me away from my musings. “A son. A son to care for who you ended up raising to be weak! Is that what this is? Are you blaming me for your failures?”

“That girl is going to defeat you, Helena.”

Helena had spent her life craving power, yearning for it but even after acquiring a kingdom it wasn’t enough. Now, years later, kids show up on our doorstep ready to take her down and the girl who led them… looked like the spitting image of our son who had run away from home years ago.

“Is she?” Helena spatted, and a cackle rumbled after.

I looked back at her, watching as she moved towards a sharp knife placed on a tray. Earlier, I used it to carve the meat I devoured for breakfast but now it seems it’ll be used on me. Will she carve me like I’m a steak? Or will she let my death be quick?

Moving closer, she eyed me like a prowler hungry for the hunt. The knife in her hand was visible. I didn’t move. Frozen. She, however, moved closer to me until we were inches apart and then she tried to place a kiss on my lips but I turned my head. She stared at me for a moment, then plunged the knife into my stomach.

I and my current girlfriend had been dating for roughly about two years, and seeing as how we’re still in high school, it was quite shocking to see how long the relationship had lasted so far.

As of now, said girl and I were walking down the eerily quiet road, occasionally exchanging words, although mainly just soaking up each other’s presence.

"Did you see what happened today? In the gym?" She asks, glancing up at me through her eyelashes.

I nod, the hint of my smile ghosting my lips. "Yeah. Shit was wack. I heard he broke her finger."

"God… I heard she fucked him up royally, face all, like, destroyed and shit. Somethin' straight out of a horror movie," She explains with a sigh, looking down at her red converses and kicking a stray pebble.

"Well, if she did, he deserved it based on what I heard," I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest.

"…Yeah." She turns her body to fully look at me.

I halt, turning as well, "What's wrong?" My eyebrows furrow in confusion, a sudden wave of anxiousness coursing through my body.

She stares at me for a few seconds, eyes blank and rid of any previous emotions, then plunges the kitchen knife that'd been shoved into the pocket of her hoodie into my stomach. She pulls it back, leaving a gaping stab wound on my abdomen.

She continues to stare at me as I gasp, hand lowering to press against the bleeding wound. My scream echoes through the neighborhood, hoping it reaches the ears of someone who can get me some goddamn help.

I stagger, attempting to stumble away from her, but she catches my wrist, stabbing into my side. I scream again. "Just kill me already, you bitch!"

"Okay," She hums, petting my hair before slitting my throat wide open. I gargle for a few moments before slumping onto the road.

“She glared at me for a moment, then plunged the knife into my stomach and left me to die. And that’s how I ended up here. It’s really unfortunate timing cause I really believed she was the one. I was all set to ask her before she flipped out and stabbed me. I just wish she truly loved me like I loved her, then maybe I wouldn’t be in this position. If she really did love me she would have accepted who I was. In regards to your first question, I don’t believe her to be a threat to our community. If you just give me a chance to speak with her, I know I can make her forget. Please, I beg you not to hurt her. She may have stabbed me but I still love her.”

 The camera zoomed in on his sad pathetic face and then faded to black where the following statement slowly moved up along the screen: 


“The poor, sad,heartbroken vampire sat there tied  to the chair, to be put on display before the council. He begged for a life that day, not his own, but the very human who stabbed a knife into his stomach. 

 He knew the moment he revealed what he was to her, there was no going back whether it worked out in his favor or not. In this case it did not. He had revealed himself to be a vampire in hopes she would love him enough to want to become one herself. She didn’t. And now it will cost both their lives.”

The screen then fades to black and the words “Vampire Academy Instructional video” flashes into view.”What a boring hilarious video that was”, I thought to myself. 

      

“What we have here students is a classic case of don’t let this happen to you while being a vampire in this world.”

Kandace backed away in horror. The knife slipping from her hand and landing with a metallic clank on the kitchen tiles. A whisk of blood streaking across the floor and onto the kitchen cabinets.

“What the fuck? How…”. She muttered. Her eyes wide, her lower jaw trembling.

“Insane right?”

“How?” She blurted out. Her eyes ping-ponging from the knife wound in my gut to my eyes.

“Okay. So earlier today I was shaving…”

Kandace squinted her eyes. “Shaving?” Her eyes scrutinizing my face as if it were an advanced math problem.

“Shaving.” I replied tilting my head downwards.

She continued to look at me in confusion.

“Shaving.” I repeated jerking my head downwards a few more times.

“Oh! Ohhhhhh. Okay…”

“So I was shaving and I cut myself. I noticed because of the blood. There was a lot of it, but I didn’t feel a thing.”

Kandace continued to stare at me. Perplexed and at a loss for words. Her attention going from the bloody knife on the floor, to the increasing pool of blood beneath my feet.

“So once it healed. I thought I’d try something else.” I showed her my right hand. The large cut from a few hours ago already in the healing process

Kandace stumbled backwards. “So wait. What the fuck. You’ve just been cutting yourself all day??”

I shrugged and nodded. “I was curious. It didn’t hurt, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Kandace shook her head and reestablished her stance. Crossing her arms across her chest. “This is insane. Is this what you do when you’re bored at work?? You need to stop working remote.” She said flatly.

I shrugged again, and kneeled down to pick up the knife. “Let’s go again?”

She shook her head. “No. No! This is fucking insane!”

“Nothings going to happen I swear. Here. Try my neck.” I tapped my jugular with two crimson soaked fingers.

“Your neck? Are you bonkers?? It’s your neck…your fucking neck, at least with your stomach I can help you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Alright fine if you’re not going to do it. I will”

“No! Roberto sto-“

I slid the knife across my throat. I could feel my throat opening up, the sensation of air on a fresh wound. I could feel the warmth of blood raining down my collar and onto the floor.

But no pain, no loss of energy. I felt fine. In fact I felt fantastic.

Kandace screamed her arms wheeling around frantically as she leapt backwards to avoid the rain of blood.

“Kandace. I feel fine calm down.”

And that’s how we found out that I was impervious to any kind of damage. That night we stabbed myself in the stomach, back, the neck again and even a stab to the heart. We smashed my fingers and toes a few times over. I even took a tumble down our apartments flight of stairs. No permanent damage whatsoever. The only damage was to our poor apartment.

Which brought us to now.

“I still think this is a horrible idea.” Kandace muttered.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t. I literally don’t feel a thing. I think I’ll be fine. I think we’ll be kosher.”

Kandace inhaled and exhaled. She bit her lower lip and looked at the pistol in her hands.

“Ready?” I questioned.

She hesitated. Took another deep breath and nodded.

“Alright. Here we go.”

Kandace pressed the pistol against the left side of my head. I could see her tremble and close her eyes.

She pulled the trigger.

Dinner always strolls by the graveyard gates at about 8 in the evening when the moon is full and the night sky dances with stars. I want to reach through the gates, grab her brown hair and broom figure, and carry her back to my corner of the mausoleum, but I know better. If I bring some for me, I have to bring her back to share, and I’m not sure I want to do that. She’s mine.

I’d rather do it this way. Follow her down the suburban streets of this middle American town with lampposts wrapped in blue, green, and red Christmas lights year-round, magnificent in the summer as they are in the winter. She walks home with her friends, too distracted to notice that I’m here. I have a suit and tie on anyway, and my curls wave in the wind as I walk like I’m a well todo man out for an evening on a ritual around the neighborhood.

One by one, her friends stop at houses as they walk down the sidewalk, turning into their white picket fences and lattice gates made to keep the dogs in. As I pass, the dogs are confused at my presence. I guess it’s my heart. They whine, heads tilted. Fine with me. I hate barking dogs.

Finally, she parts from her last few friends, waving goodbye as they walk on. I stop as they disappear into the distance and stare at her residence. A two story blue house with a staircase leading to the main door, a well grown oak on the right that reaches up to a few windows on the second floor. The yellow lights of the house emanate through the windows.

I jump into the tree and lay against the high trunk, hidden by leafy branches that wave in the breeze of the evening. Through a window, I see an old woman in a bed with a heart monitor and an IV drip. Her hair white as freshly fallen snow, in a blue night gown under flowery bed covers. And so I stare. A snack perhaps? Best to stay on task. Old blood is close to dead blood, and anyone who’s anyone knows what that would do to me.

There she is. She’s entered the old women’s room with a tray of a microwaved meal. So modern. I guess she cares for the lady. Too bad for you, grandma. Christ, I’m probably old enough to be the elder woman’s grandfather. Never bothered me in the past. She leaves the room.

I slip from the branch down to a door on the side of the house with a window. A kitchen laden with a blender, dishwasher… all the essentials. I see her coming back down with the tray. She puts it in the sink and turns to leave. I knock on the window and hide beside the door.

I can sense her walking back to the door. Like the naive child she is, she opens the door and steps outside with a chef’s knife. And this is where I stand before her and say, “Evening, my darling. Careful not to scream. You might give grandma a heart attack.”

Much to her credit, she stares at me for a moment, then plunges the knife into my stomach. Sad for her, I pull it out and hold it back handed. “Never mind, you can scream. It might be your only hope.”

She backs into the house as I encroach upon her. The house rule is a lie made by the superstitious. She runs through the kitchen and through the hallway. I follow her as she runs up the red carpet staircase. I find her in the old lady’s room. She sees me in the door frame, red dripping from my suit.

And that’s where I see the old lady again. Do I really wish to part a young girl and her grandmother as I was parted from my family? And so, I use the oldest of Dracula’s tricks and turn into mist, creeping through the room, over the two mortals. Through the cracks in the room’s window, I make my escape back onto the branch outside. No. I don’t wish to take her as I was taken.

Nearly now, I will take her soon. I will wait for her grandmother to pass, and as sure as she stabbed me in stomach, I will make her my dinner, and god, if she stabs me again, maybe my wife.

I approached the room at the end of hallway cautiously, alert for any kind of movement. I kept my hand on my dagger the entire time I made my way to the oak door. This was the last room in the house, she had to be here. Taking a deep breath, wincing at the small twinge of pain it brought, slowly I opened the door. The eerie creak echoed throughout the house and filled my ears. My heart sped in my chest and adrenaline pumped through my veins as I entered the room cautiously, scanning for danger and Nicolette. Nicolette was there, sitting on the sofa tied up and blindfolded. Her blonde hair was tangled but she was still in her gear, weapons and all. Strange, I thought, but that’s the last of my worries. I breathed a sigh of relief when I scanned over her body and she appeared unharmed. I rushed forward and quickly moved to unbind her. When I removed her blindfold from her, I was taken aback. Her eyes were open and staring at me, her usual kind, ocean blue eyes were pale and full of rage. When I moved back startled when she jumped up quickly into a defensive position. I held my hands up to show I meant no harm to her. She stood her ground, not moving. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck and goosebumps bloomed across my skin as her cold gaze met mine, something was wrong. When I saw her move, I quickly unsheathed my dagger just in time to block her own, the sound of metal on metal was deafening. "Nicolette?!"I exclaimed, stunned by my friends sudden attack. What had happened to her when she went missing two weeks ago? "Nicolette, it's me Alexandria, your best friend." I said trying to reason with her. She looked at me and snarled, "I have no friends." I could feel my eyes widen in shock, my heart fell. Her blows became stronger and more determined, and I was struggling to hold her off. I could see the bloodthirsty look in her eyes and knew her intention was my death. I moved around the room hoping to stall and tire her, but was unsuccessful. I could feel myself growing weaker and knew I wasn’t going to be able to do this for much longer. I already had injuries from fighting my way in to rescue her. I had to stop her or she would do something she would regret later. "Stop" I pleaded, "Please you're better than this, Nicolette!" Her blows were becoming harder and harder as she fought me. My arms ached as I blocked each one and each one of her blows sent my muscles quivering. Her mouth was set in a hard line her face unrecognizable, this was not the Nicolette I knew. Her eyes were as cold as ice as she glared at me. They filled with so much hatred and viciousness, not her usual warmth and strength. I was distracted for only a second by a small movement in the corner of my eye. That single second was enough for her determination and power to overcome me, as she succeeded in un-arming me. My dagger clattered across the room. This was it, I knew I was going to die. I looked to her, panic flooding my body, my heart racing as I felt the danger seep into my pores. "Please, Nicolette!" I pleaded once more, hoping my best friend was still in there somewhere. She stared at me for a moment, then plunged the knife into my stomach.
"I love you," I whispered as the pain blackend my vision, causing my body to crumble to the floor. Hot tears fell down my cheeks as blood pooled around my frame. The last thing I saw as I lost consciousness were her eyes, cold and unforgiving, and joined by the mischievous green eyes of person we hated most.

‘She stared at me for a moment, then plunged the knife into my stomach.’ I told it like a story. Well, I guess it was, but I didn’t think it was one I would be able to tell.

After being in hospital for months, me and dad moved. I broke about a year later. My only vest was in the wash, so I couldn’t wear it. Despite my attempts to hide the scar while changing for PE, Michael saw it.

He sat down at my empty table at lunch and asked me about it, so I told him. I have never told anyone before, but for some reason I trusted him.

I looked at my watch. The bell was about to ring. ‘She’s in prison now, my mum. My dad thinks it’s my fault, but she’s the one who tried to kill me. It’s so unfair! I can’t wait until June. I’ll be eighteen then, and I can finally leave,’ I scratched the back of my head and chuckled, ‘I’ve never told anyone that before.’

Michael grinned, ‘I must be special then, Tom.’