A Twilight spinoff

By
Quiet, cold, dark night outside. The moon hanging its head proud in the star sprinkled sky. I yawn, and put my book back in its place, on my bedside table. Surrounded by bits and bobs, the dust settles around it.
I rest my head on my pillow, and reach over to turn my lamp off. A click, and the room goes pitch black. My bright pink curtains, my poster strewn walls, my New Moon book, all disappear.
I close my eyelids over my green irises, and think about the Twilight series. I had thought that it would be another teen craze, like High School Musical or something like that. But then when I had finished the book I was reading in an airport, Twilight had looked like the best book in the shop. And it was also on sale.
After just the first chapter, I had fallen in love with it. I didn't just like it either, I loved the book. Every spare moment of my time was occupied by reading, and if my book somehow wasn't available, I'd sink into a daydream about vampires. I dream that my blood would smell as appealing to them as pollen does to a bee. I dream that some day, somehow, as crazy as it may sound, I would find a vampire willing to bite me.
Yes, whether they exist or not, I want to be one of them.
My eyelids flutter, I yawn again. My eyelids flutter again, but this time they do not open again. I drift into sleep.
I am in the stage between consciousness and unconsciousness, when my phone rings. It's a text message from Bronagh.
Ring me.
Of course, she wouldn't have enough credit to ring me herself.
I look at the time on my phone. 23:06. Five past eleven already? I really need to stop reading so long. Why does Bronagh want to talk to me so late anyway?
I go downstairs in my nightdress and slippers to get a glass of water. Bronagh can wait. The kitchen is cold, and I realise that the window is open. Someone must of forgotten to close it after having a cigarette, so I close it for them. I reach up to the cupboard, grab a glass and fill it with water. Instead of sipping a bit now, and leaving the rest for later, I gulp it all down and put my glass in the sink. It's cold, but at least my thirst is quenched.
"You thirsty?"
I freeze.
I'm facing the sink, my back to whoever this newcomer is. It's a man. His voice is silky, yet deep. It makes something stir inside me, but I can't grasp what.
I slowly look up from the sink, without turning around, to see the man in the window in front of me, looking out on the garden. It's not a man, it's a boy.
I slowly turn around. Very, very slowly.
There he is.
He must be twelve or thirteen, no older than fourteen. Around my own age. He's sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, one elbow resting on the table, the other one hanging off the back of the chair. His hair is dirty blond. He is dressed simply, in a black non-descript T-shirt, a denim jacket, black trousers and dark, red runners. I examine his face more closely. It is unblemished, not a single spot or freckle. I realise, in contrast with the photo of my cousin on the wall behind him, that his skin is paler than the average person's. Lastly, I look up into his eyes.
They're a beautiful, entrancing, crimson red.
"You alright?" he says to me, "You look like you're going to faint any minute now."
"You...how..." I stutter.
"How did I get in?"
I simply nod.
"Through that window you closed."
I am starting to think. Crimson eyes. Unblemished skin. A melodic voice.
No, it must all be a coincidence. But then again, crimson eyes certainly aren't a thing you come across every day.
"Oh. You're...light."
Light? Is that the best I can come up with?
I can't hold it in.
"Are you a vampire?" I blurt out.
As soon as the words are out, I clap my hands over my mouth.
The stranger twitches at the mention of the word vampire.
"Oh, so you've read Twilight?"
I nod vigorously.
"So you must be Chelsea Orslaw."
I feel myself paling. How does he know my name?
"Yes." I mutter.
"Finally," he says with a certain tone of relief, "I am Luke Folkner. And yes, I am a vampire.
I remain immobile, stunned. It must be a dream.
"No, Chelsea. You're not dreaming."
Can he read my thoughts?
"Yes," he seems to reply to my thought. "Yes. I can read your thoughts. You are not as lucky as Bella."
Bella. He must mean Isabella Swan, the main character from the Twilight series. Her thoughts were somehow protected from vampires with the ability to read minds
"Are you sure I'm not dreaming?" I mutter.
"Sure. Now, instead of having to read your thoughts to find out what your questions are, I'm just going to tell you everything, and you can ask me any unanswered questions you might still have, alright?"
I nod.
"Good. I'll start then."
I subtly settle myself in a more comfortable position, and Luke starts telling his story.
"I am not one of those century old vampires, such as Edward Cullen or his father. I was bitten a mere two years ago, by some rogue vampire in Seattle."
"The one in New Moon!!! Damn it, why haven't I read Eclipse yet?"
New Moon and Eclipse are Twilight sequels.
I understand that I have just exclaimed random thoughts in front of a thirsty vampire.
"It's okay, I don't mind random outbursts," he tells me, "just try to contain yourself next time. And don't swear or your mum will lecture you."
"As I was saying," he continues, "I am a young vampire, technically 15 years old, and no, I was not bitten by the vampire from the book. I haven't even read the book."
I stare at him, wide eyed.
"Ok, just forget the book. The only thing the book will have to do with this anymore, is the fact that the story partially exists."
God, I think. He's impatient. Just like any ordinary human. Apart from the whole pale skin, crimson eyes, silky voice, gracefulness and ability to read minds thing.
"Yes, I'm impatient. Do you have a problem with that?" he growls.
I shake my head.
"Oh, this is just getting too damn annoying!"
Don't swear or your mum will lecture you, I think.
He leaps.

* * * * *

I wake up in bed, and immediately sit up. Too fast. Now I'm dizzy. I am sweating. My head is swimming. I lean over the side of my bed, feeling nauseous, and prepare to vomit. Nothing comes.
I lie down in bed again. It was just a nightmare. A terrible nightmare.
I look to my right to grab my phone.
Red. The bedsheets are red.
Blood.
I feel like screaming, but I don't. I slowly, very, very slowly reach up to the side of my neck. Nothing there.
I flop my arm back down on the bed.
Searing pain.
I immediately lift up my arm. The sleeve is red. I pull it back.
A bloody crescent on my forearm, right at the emplacement of my vein.
I run across the carpeted hall, to the bathroom.
I open the door, switch on the light, and look at myself in the mirror.
Topaz eyes.
Razor sharp canines.

* * * * *

I am lucky enough to be bitten on a Friday night. I woke up at 12:46am, and everyone is gone. I am left alone to deal with my new problem.
No, wait. This is no problem. It's my dream come true.
I am one of them.





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