Blood Like Poison For the Love of a Vampire - By M. Leighton Page 0,1
to sleep every night with the television on and woke up every day listening to the most recent happenings as they echoed through my room.
I listened with half an ear to the Channel Six anchorman as he talked about the top story.
"Another body was found late last night in Arlisle Preserve, near the area police have dubbed the 'Slayer's Slaughterhouse'." The body was positively identified as seventeen year old Jolene Turner of Falls Town. At this time, police are not able to divulge all the details surrounding her death, though they did confirm that she was killed in a manner typical of the Southmoore Slayer, including the animal attack-like markings on the neck, a fatal chest wound and exsanguination. Turner makes victim number twenty-seven of the Southmoore Slayer and, unless he's captured, police fear that her death will not be the last.
Southmoore Chief of Police Edwin McDonnahough has teamed with local authorities from four neighboring towns to form a task force dedicated to the identification and apprehension of the Slayer. Law enforcement officials from Harker, Columbia, Camden, and Sumter have devoted at least one officer to the team in hopes of bringing the Slayer to justice before the violence spreads across the borders into their townships.
In other top news, The Center for Disease Control in Atlanta still has not been able to confirm that the mysterious illness plaguing now thirty-one Southmoore residents is Mad Cow Disease. Authorities have yet to lift the quarantine that has been imposed on the sale of local cattle..."
I let the reporter's voice fade into the background as my breathing returned to normal and then, with a sigh, I smacked blindly at the television's remote control until I found the power button. Without the noise of the TV, an uncomfortable silence filled my bedroom. It was the kind of quiet that always led to troubling thoughts. It was the kind of quiet I avoided like the plague. Already, my mind was wandering back to the dream.
With another sigh, I rolled over and turned off my alarm clock, even though it had yet to buzz. I knew from years of experience that I wouldn't find sleep again. Resigned, I threw back the covers, got out of bed and went to take a shower.
********
I shouted at the tiny, dark-skinned blonde at the top of the pyramid. "Trinity, you're wobbling!"
"I can't help it. Aisha's moving. If I fall off, I'm gonna kick her- ahh!"
And just like that, the pyramid came tumbling down. Actually, it was more like a gentle folding, thank God. But I knew that just because no one was hurt this time didn't mean it wouldn't end badly next time.
"Aisha, I'm switching you to the shoulder stand on the end."
"Thank God," she muttered, angrily flipping her long, intricately braided hair.
Ignoring her, I directed my attention to the slightly stocky brunette with the pigtails at the other end of the formation. "Carly, can you help hold Trinity for the center?"
With a snort and a roll of her eyes, Carly agreed, albeit ungraciously. "I guess," she said weakly.
We looked at each other expectantly - me waiting for her to move and her waiting for...I don't know what she was waiting for, but it was obvious Carly had no intention of moving whatsoever.
Carly was my whiner. I wanted to slap her. I wanted to slap her a lot. Seriously, I did, just not as badly (or as often) as I wanted to punch Trinity. And I mean really punch her. Hard. Right in her pouty mouth. Trinity was the type of personality that would've brought Gandhi himself to violence.
I was rarely ever surprised by the behavior of the other cheerleaders, only irritated by it. After all, I understood them better than anyone. Until three years ago, I was fundamentally the same as them - shamefully selfish, vapid, useless and vicious. But when tragedy strikes, it leaves no part of your life, of your being, untouched, unscathed, unscarred. No, tragedy had carved a whole new person out of my less-than-ideal former self, and in a way, I'm thankful for it.
Now my eyes are open and I'm content, at least for my soul's sake, to be growing more and more different, growing further and further apart from them. It does make things more difficult, though. Much more difficult.