My Story, until I become famous and write a book. Maybe.

I was bored one day after school, and my sister, Missy was being a snob once again. “The reason why you don't have a girlfriend is because your ugly”, she points out like a witch. She wasn't the normal looking girl, she had scraggly black hair, a long nose that if she ever kissed her dumb boyfriend, she'd spear his eye out. I hated her so much, I wish she'd die. I watched television until the family went to bed. I came up with a master plan, while I was staying up after everyone went to bed and was supposed to be asleep. I'd replace her shampoo with some old, dead, half-rotted rat blood. But, I never followed through, but, at least I have a plan if she really ticks me off. Then I drifted into a deep sleep.

The next day, which was Saturday, dragged on, especially when I got out of bed to my sister dumping a bucket of water on my head. After breakfast my dad announced that we'd be staying with Aunt Nancy and Uncle Paul, and he and mom would be going to have a few weeks of “alone time”. We both groaned. My sister and I may hate each other, but, hey, Uncle Paul and Aunt Nancy either are too kind, or arguing with each other, and never do anything right. We got in the bed of the old, rusty pickup truck and went downtown, to the place my sister and I call “Psychopathia”, because numerous people here stare at you like their wondering if you taste like chicken. Go figure. We get their in about a half hour, to the old, yellow farmhouse, which the paint is chipping off. We unpack our things and find the guest room in their house, ignoring the “hello”s from our hippie aunt and uncle. The rest of the day mostly consisted of my sister doing housework with Aunt Nancy, and me helping Uncle Paul fix his old hippie van.

Yawning as I wake up, in a zombie-like state of mind, I groggily walk to the kitchen, to find my aunt and uncle arguing. My sister follows behind, and as she rubs her eyes to wake up, I realize her nose isn't that big, and her hair isn't scraggly, and I clear that thought out of my head before it goes farther. I walk over to her and ask her if she wants to go to the old, supposed home of the “demons”. She yawns, and says yes, but, later on in the afternoon, “I want to get some things done before she meet a demon, and get my internal organs ripped out”, she jokes. I grab a biscuit out of the oven and stuff it like a turkey with some butter, and think that biscuits are about the only thing my aunt and uncle don't screw up. Later, in the afternoon, we decide to go to the old farmhouse, which is said to have demons. We don't believe the stories, but, we take a butcher knife each and tuck a few steak knives into our belts. The walk was kinda long, about 3 miles, and we talked about actually becoming somewhat nice to each other. We actually might not hate each other after this trip, I think to myself. Then an evil voice in my head snorts “Yeah, if you come back from it!”. I ignore it, thinking that my subconscious is playing tricks on me. Then out of the blue the old, half-rotted house of the supposed vampire, who got burned at the stake over two hundred years ago appears, and we're at our destination. Then, out of nowhere, a voice comes, it sounds it belongs to a 4th or 5th grade boy, but the words aren't decipherable. Then, as if on cue a chunky boy, about eleven,and wearing an old red tee shirt, and jeans, comes out of behind a tree, and says with a cheery voice “Hey, I'm Sam, watcha doin'?” My sister replies in a startled voice “Nothing, just going into the old house”. Sam asks eagerly “Can I come, too?”. My sister shoots me a glance that says, if he comes, he's your problem. I reply to Sam, jokingly “Sure, if you die, we'll leave your corpse in there”. Sam laughs “Ok, it's a deal”. I reach for the old, rusted knocker on the door, and almost on cue, the dry rot in the door must've taken it's toll, because the door fell off it's rusty hinges, and into the darkness that lay behind it. Sam, although he may not seem like he could've, bolted inside the house as fast as his little legs could carry him. I note how eager Sam is to get into a house that may kill him, then shake the thought out of my head. My sister cautiously walks in after me, half expecting the floor to fall out from under us. The room is in total darkness, except where light comes through an old window, which hits and ancient door. I ask if anyone wants to go through the door. My sister replies “Nah, I think I'll wait outside, this place seems like where you'd find a skeleton or something”. Sam cockily replies “Chicken, I'll go in with you”. The little voice in my head asks in a sadistic tone, “Do you like the taste of blood, young Jack?”. I ignore the voice, once again, wondering what this all means. So, Sam and I walk towards the door, then we get close enough to study it. It has a skull on the old, rusty knob, but Sam in his weirdness opens the door, and snatches my arm, and I get dragged in. The first thing I notice is the smell of something rotting, and what really struck me as odd is, my stomach grumbled. Then I see what is causing the stench, dead, rotted human corpses. Sam screams in horror, but is paralyzed in fear, vulnerable. The corpses have similar markings, the throat slashed, the blood drained, and the stomach area removed. Blood pools on the ground. The room looks familiar, shockingly, then all of a sudden the door slams shut. Sam screams even louder, and my entire body flashes in pain, as if it was undergoing a transformation. My vision goes blank, and all I hear is the terrified screams of Sam. My clothes eventually ripped off at the seams, with only the top half of my pants keeping their form. My vision has come back, and all I see is black and white, and I feel more muscular, the I realize the truth, I'm a werewolf. The thought goes blank, and primal instinct take over, and all I know is, that Sam stopped screaming, and I was gorging myself on someone's soft, spongey flesh, with their delicious, thick, salty blood in my mouth.......





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