literature

Cliche

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This was bullshit.

Pardon my French, but seriously? I tell my mother I'm atheist, and what is her solution?

Take me to confession.

"It'll be good for you, sweetie!" she'd said. "It'll help you find God!" not two seconds after she said this, my dad excused himself to go smoke a joint in front of the church. Exhibit A of how ignorant my mother is of her surroundings.

Exhibit B is her leaving to go have dinner with a group of church ladies and expecting me to be in her confessing to a God I don't believe in.

Having God shoved down my throat is not going to make me believe in Him. First off, it'll make me vomit, second off, it's going to make me not want to believe in Him more than I already do. I'm a teenager, rebelling is in my nature and this woman should know this by now.

I cast my gaze down to my wrist, checking the time on my watch. What time was she going to come get me? I'd already been in here alone for an hour, and the sun had started to set about ten minutes ago.

It was getting really dark, really fast. The thought of being alone in a big Catholic church at night scared me – my spatial perception sucked majorly, so I'd get lost for sure. I pushed myself off of the pew I'd been sitting in and made my way to the back of the chapel, trailing my hand along the wall. There had to be a light switch around here somewhere.

Five minutes found my search fruitless, and it was nearly pitch black in the chapel now. Damn it all, now I'd have to find the switch in the complete darkness.

It's kind of funny how being alone makes you think about things. Really, I had no control over the path my mind took, and soon I found myself thinking back to the whole situation that landed me here in the first place.

I'd decided to tell Mom first, to get it over with. She was the real religious nut in the family – dragging my dad and me to church every single Sunday, spouting out Bible verses at me whenever I did something that was against the rules, stuff like that. Obviously, she wasn't going to be happy to hear that her eldest child didn't believe in something that she'd tried to teach me all of my life.

I should've seen this coming, really. I had been expected to be yelled at, attempts at persuasion, the "I-can't-believe-you'd-do-this-to-your-own-mother" speech, and even for her to cry a little bit.

Her grabbing me by my collar and forcing me to go to confession hadn't been on my list of things I would expect my petite, gentle mother to do.

"Ugh, this is fucking pointless!"

My voice echoed eerily in the empty chapel, and it gave me chills.

Let's look at this situation a little more closely, shall we? I'm a sixteen year old, reasonably attractive girl who is angry at her mother. I'm in a significantly old Catholic church, alone, with no one around to hear me scream. The doors are not locked, the stained-glass windows are fragile, and I don't have a single thing on me that would constitute as a weapon of self-defense, and those two years of Tae-Kwon-Do won't do much if someone had a gun or is bigger than I am.

Call me crazy, but this sounds vaguely like you average B-list horror movie.

The more I thought about it, the more different scenarios popped into my head. This could be like a Scream movies where a killer shows up in a mask with a knife and stabs me in the chest multiple times and my mom will come in and find my dead body on one of the pews.

Or maybe it'll be like the Grudge where a ghost or something comes and scares me into killing myself on accident.

Maybe the priest is waiting in the shadows somewhere to rape me and then kill me to prevent anybody from knowing about his pedophile tendencies. It's a Catholic church, after all.

The front doors of the chapel squeak as they opened, and I had to bite down hard on my tongue to prevent myself from screaming.

At first, I thought it was my mother, finally realized that she'd left me here alone in the chapel for an hour and five minutes. But no, the silhouette was too large to be my petite little mother, and the hair wasn't nearly as long.

The headlights from a passing car illuminated the person from behind, giving me just enough light to figure out that it was a boy, probably around my age.

"Hmm? Oh, I didn't expect anyone else to be in here."

Whoa, he could see me? Yeah, there was some light coming in from outside, but not that much. Certainly not enough to reach me. Maybe I actually did scream and he heard me? Yeah, that must've been it.

"I'm usually not." I muttered as he walked in. I jumped visibly when he slammed the heavy oak door behind him. Was he seriously leaving the both of us in completely and total darkness?

"Aw, you're not afraid of the dark, are you little girl?" even though I couldn't see him, I could hear the smirk dripping off of his voice. He hadn't been in here five seconds and already I didn't like him.

"I'm not scared! I just can't see anything!" he couldn't have seen me jump. There was no way, it was pitch black in this freaking place. I couldn't even see my hand.

"Hmph." there was the rustling of clothes. "The light switch is over here."

Phew, it was about time. "Good, flick it on."

"I don't think so."

What?

"What?"

I could hear the material of his pants brush against the floor as he walked. How wasn't he tripping over something? I'll reiterate, it was pitch black in the chapel. This was starting to creep me out. I think we've just inserted the villain into our horror story scenario.

"The lights in here are too harsh. Really, they ruin the night, especially if it's as beautiful out as it is tonight." the rustling stopped. "If you really wish, I'll light the candles on the altar."

Something was off about the way he spoke, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. "Alright…don't trip or anything…"

"Trust me, I won't."

Oh, how sweet the irony would've been if he had fallen on his face. I would've laughed – something about this guy just rubbed me the wrong way and it would definitely lift my spirits if I got to see him injure himself.

But, unfortunately, he made it to the altar without incident, and I heart a few soft clicks before the light sprung to life. Briefly touching the flame to the wicks, the front of the chapel was illuminated in gentle, wavering candlelight.

It should've made me feel better, now that I could see. But, since he was the closest thing to the candles, he was the first thing my eyes landed on.

There was no way he was human.

A human should not be that beautiful.

The boy's hair was soft-looking, the color of charcoal, tied back in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck with some of it framing his pale, heart-shaped face. The reflection of the candles made it impossible to tell what color his eyes were, but they were entrancing, nonetheless. As I ventured closer, I could see that they were vaguely almond-shaped. Narrow, with high cheek bones.

He was elegant, even though he was simply wearing a pair of black jeans and a black button down.

I knew I'd been caught staring when he turned his head and smiled, showing a row of shiny, white teeth. The blood rushed to my face, but I couldn't turn away. It was like just this boy's presence was keeping me glued to the spot.

As he made his way down the aisle, I noticed that he walked with an inhuman grace. Almost like he was floating towards me, that smile turning more and more amused the closer he got to where I was standing, my hand still placed on the wall where it had been previously searching for a light switch.

"Is that enough light?"

It took me a moment to respond – what was wrong with me? I'm a female, so naturally I'm a little boy crazy, but I'm never this bad.

"Y-Yeah…I'm good…"

When did my voice get so shaky? Why did I feel like my face was on fire? Why did it feel like my insides had just turned into goo? Why was I reacting like this?

Before my brain could process it, he was standing right in front of me, staring right at me…my brain was telling me it was totally creepy, and I should probably, like, slap him or something. But my body apparently didn't want to listen today, and it felt like all of my nerves were on fire, like my skin was cracking under his stare…

"You don't seem to want to be here…" he murmured, his eyes – I could see that they were an odd shade of brown, closer to a dark red, actually – boring right into my own.

"M-My mom thought it would be a good idea to…to bring me to confession, but she left a while ago…" why was I still stuttering? This was totally embarrassing.

"It isn't really smart to be in this area after dark. There are a lot of…dangerous people lurking around after the sun sets." in retrospect, I should've seen the dangerous lift of his lips as a sign that he  was one of the dangerous people, but something about him was melting my brain, preventing any higher functioning…like taking in warning signs.

"You mean like rapists?"

His laugh was melodious, beautiful. Deep and velvety, I was sure if I was leaning up against his chest, I would feel it rumble in his chest. Why did I have the sudden urge to do just that? Just lean there and listen to the heart beating underneath his skin?

When did I turn into such a romantic?

"Believe me, my dear, there are more dangerous people out there than just rapists."

"Murderers?"

There was that laugh again. The urge increased. Once again, I bit down hard on my tongue. Hard enough that I could taste blood. The disgusting, coppery taste filled my mouth, and I winced.

Something in his expression changed. Before, he had just looked flirtatious. But now…now there was something hungry lingering there. His brown eyes were raking over me like I was a piece of meat or something.

And it wasn't nearly as creepy as it should have been.

"Mmm…I'm quite thirsty…" he muttered, more to himself than to me.

"I-I…I think I have a bottle of water in my bag…"

Another one of those melodious laughs, but again, something was different. His whole being was different now. There was something…darker, like some sort of predatory aura surrounding him. Even the way he was standing looked something like a panther about to jump it's prey.

"I'm afraid it's not that kind of thirst."

I didn't even see it coming.

It didn't make sense at first. I felt his hand grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head backwards. When my mouth opened in surprise, his tongue darted in there, lapping up all of the blood that had burst from me biting down.

As soon as all of that was gone, his mouth left mine and trailed down to my neck. There was more sharp pulling of my hair, forcing my head to the side. I couldn't fight the shiver that ran up my spine as his tongue dragged itself up the side of my throat, hot breath moving the little strands of hair that had fallen from my ponytail.

"Wha…what…how…who…?" I'd lost the ability to process words. My inner animal was telling me to run, fight him off, get away. This wasn't just a chance meeting anymore. This had turned into a struggle for survival. I was being hunted.

I guess my horror movie comparison was pretty accurate after all.

"Mmm…you smell…so sweet…I can nearly taste you…" his voice was still velvet, I was still being pulled under…but all I could see now was a monster. I was about to be murdered, drained of all of my blood simply because a monster needed his sustenance. His beauty and hypnotizing voice had lured me in, and now I was caught in the trap.

This shouldn't be happening. None of this was scientifically explainable. He shouldn't be this strong, this luring, this…monstrous. He shouldn't exist. This whole situation shouldn't exist!

I'm not sure if I screamed or not, but I could feel it. Feel the razor sharp fangs sink into my neck. Feel the blood being drained from my body in large gulps. Feel my heartbeat start to slow as this beautiful beast fed off of me, the poor, unsuspecting little innocent teenage girl.

I might have thrashed around. I might have begged him to stop. I don't know.

I might've prayed to God at that moment. Asked Him to save me, if He was really there. I might've promised to believe in Him if He saved me. But, again, I don't know.

All I know is, when he was finished with me, he dropped my lifeless, bloodless corpse onto the hard floor of the chapel and left me there, licking the excess blood off of his lips as he slammed the heavy oak doors behind him.

How terribly cliché.
A little something creepy to start off my favorite month of the year.

Hm, my horror writing is a little bit rusty. I should probably work on it a little more.

I've had the urge to write something about vampires for a while now. I don't care how cliche they are, I freaking love them. I'll read anything from a vampire romance to a horror (except for Twilight, of course, but meh...)

This was written relatively quickly. I might expand on it later, make a full story using the characters with a different plot. I just had the desire to write something like this, so here it is.

I purposely didn't name the characters, or even give the main female a physical description. I feel like it's a little easier to write short stories like that.
© 2011 - 2024 Kindrix-of-the-Phunk
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Brisingr-Arget's avatar
Awesome story. Fitting title.