The First Excerpt for You

I wrote this scene last night based on a hashtag Ian threw out there when I told him I was gonna go write: #bitcheslovespacevampires.

Okay, okay, he started with the initial suggestion of maybe throwing some vampires in there, so I said I could probably do a blood sucking alien. Then he came up with the magical hashtag of the day. Do you ever make up wacky hashtags to poke fun at social media? I highly recommend it.

I was backed into a corner with nowhere to go. I heard them coming closer, their tiny little nails tipping and tapping on the ground as they sought me out.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

“Now!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, loud enough to split my head wide open, at the same time that I hit the flare on the ground in front of me, igniting it.

The dying screams of the asshole little vamps echoed all around me, shattering my eardrums with the shards that bounced into my skull.

“Take that, you fuckers!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face in relief, in sorrow, in confusion. I couldn’t even tell you which was was up anymore. I slumped to the ground, my limbs collapsing, unable to hold me upright anymore now that the surge of adrenaline was waning.

I sobbed; I sobbed for hours, it must have been. And when I was finally done, I felt better. I tore another strip from the bottom of my shirt, ragged as it was, and wiped the snot and tears off my face. I hoped that I took a good bit of dirt off as well, but I’ll take what I can get at this point.

The flare had long since burned down and burned out. I rolled over on to my back and realized that I still had the flashlight that wouldn’t hurt the vamps. I breathed a sigh of relief, offering my breath up like a prayer to gods that I didn’t believe in.
I hope they accepted my offering.

I flipped the switch, and the light came on. Faintly, but on, and on is what’s important right now. I moved the beam from side to side, and my jaw dropped at the carnage that I hadn’t been aware of before.

There must have been two hundred of those nasty little bodies covering the ground in front of me. Please, please, whatever is holy in this fucked up place, let them all be dead.

I took my first step forward, nudging the carcasses aside with the toe of my shoe, biting my lip and crossing my fingers and wincing in fear that there was still one left kicking, hidden underneath its hundreds of dead comrades.

By the time I made it through the war zone, every muscle in my body was singing like a violin string. I was so tight and tense from the stress of worry that I nearly collapsed on the clear ground, once I finally made it there.

I took two more steps before my body decided that collapsing was in everyone’s best interests, so I hit the ground pretty hard. I landed with my face pointed towards the dead vamps, and I was staring one right in his beady little eyes.

I’m real fucking glad that I learned that magnesium zaps their brains through those little asshole eyes.

So what do you think? Should I take myself more seriously, or can you tell that my writing style heavily relies on the fact that life itself is just one huge joke?



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