Dusk, chapter 1
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This story doesn't really have a start or an end. It's hard to explain, even harder to understand. But I have to try, have to start somewhere. If we say everything started in a dark alley, I would be lying. Yes, it would've been a spooky and great start. But that's not the truth. It didn't start in an alley, as I've already said, I dunno where it started. I still have to pick some place though, so let's say everything started...in the forest. At least I think that's where it started...
*Billie Joe's Point of View*
I took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. The trees were raging over me; if I was afraid of the dark, I'd be scared as hell right now. I wasn't though, I loved it. I loved the dusk, I loved the wood, and I loved being alone. I'd never had any friends.
My family were bitches, all of them. My dad was a drunk, Mum hit me, and none of my siblings were nice to me. I had a rough childhood, no doubt about it. I survived though, and it hadn't made a great damage to me. I mean, it would've if I didn't like being alone. 'Cause I didn't trust anyone, and I never believed anyone could be nice. I didn't have a thirst to make friends or work around other people. Which meant school was hell to me. I never finished high school, and I didn't have a proper job when I'd reached the mighty twenties.
Now you might think I was a drunk, someone who lived on the street, begging for money. Hah. Think again, I'm actually rich. Don't mean to brag or anything. I wrote a book, and it sold millions. Millions and millions, which meant I earned millions. I'd bought a big house, in the middle of nowhere.
As I mentioned earlier, I don't like people. I don't like who they are, what they do, what they say, how they think, or what they want. Call me a bitch; I know I am. But blame my parents; if you were me, you'd understand.
Now you think I lived alone the rest of my life, died at the age of thirty, all alone in my God forsaken mansion with no one who loved me. Wrong again, I met someone. But no, not a human, because I still hated people. I will always hate people, and there's nothing to do about it.
Anyways, that's not the story, at least not in the beginning. I met someone similar, someone just like me. There was only one difference between us; I won't tell you yet, though. The person hated people, he loved the dark, and he loved being alone. And we were both gay. Yes, I'm gay. I fell in love with the person, and it was a guy. And he wasn't a human being.
If you don't believe in things that aren't dangling right in front of your face, so obvious that it'd be hilarious if you didn't see it, then I suggest you to not read this story. This is beyond everything you've ever read, anything you'll ever read, and still true, but you won't believe it if you don't open your mind and try. Because this is a story about the unnatural, the twisted, the sick, about the things beyond your imagination and about your biggest fear.
This is a story about vampires.
*Billie Joe's Point of View*
I took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. The trees were raging over me; if I was afraid of the dark, I'd be scared as hell right now. I wasn't though, I loved it. I loved the dusk, I loved the wood, and I loved being alone. I'd never had any friends.
My family were bitches, all of them. My dad was a drunk, Mum hit me, and none of my siblings were nice to me. I had a rough childhood, no doubt about it. I survived though, and it hadn't made a great damage to me. I mean, it would've if I didn't like being alone. 'Cause I didn't trust anyone, and I never believed anyone could be nice. I didn't have a thirst to make friends or work around other people. Which meant school was hell to me. I never finished high school, and I didn't have a proper job when I'd reached the mighty twenties.
Now you might think I was a drunk, someone who lived on the street, begging for money. Hah. Think again, I'm actually rich. Don't mean to brag or anything. I wrote a book, and it sold millions. Millions and millions, which meant I earned millions. I'd bought a big house, in the middle of nowhere.
As I mentioned earlier, I don't like people. I don't like who they are, what they do, what they say, how they think, or what they want. Call me a bitch; I know I am. But blame my parents; if you were me, you'd understand.
Now you think I lived alone the rest of my life, died at the age of thirty, all alone in my God forsaken mansion with no one who loved me. Wrong again, I met someone. But no, not a human, because I still hated people. I will always hate people, and there's nothing to do about it.
Anyways, that's not the story, at least not in the beginning. I met someone similar, someone just like me. There was only one difference between us; I won't tell you yet, though. The person hated people, he loved the dark, and he loved being alone. And we were both gay. Yes, I'm gay. I fell in love with the person, and it was a guy. And he wasn't a human being.
If you don't believe in things that aren't dangling right in front of your face, so obvious that it'd be hilarious if you didn't see it, then I suggest you to not read this story. This is beyond everything you've ever read, anything you'll ever read, and still true, but you won't believe it if you don't open your mind and try. Because this is a story about the unnatural, the twisted, the sick, about the things beyond your imagination and about your biggest fear.
This is a story about vampires.
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