Amy Jones

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My name is Amy Jones, and I am a vampire.  There, I said it.  It really is true!  I wonder what you think of me so far.  You probably picture me as some sexy vamp, with dark hair and glowing eyes, who seduces her victims and kills indiscriminately.  Well you are wrong.  I’m just an average person.  Apart from the vampire thing. 

I’m only 27, and that is my real age, not a fake one to cover up for the fact that I was born in the Victorian times or something.  I am fairly attractive in my own way, with dyed blond hair and brown eyes, and a nice slim figure.  I should never have been a vampire.  I’m too normal. It was a complete accident, or maybe just me being in totally the wrong place at the wrong time.  Well now I’m stuck with this curse.  And I’m vegetarian, which just complicates things even more. 

Now I know you are confused!  Who is this crazy woman, you are thinking.  She must be mentally unstable, or just plain weird!  I assure you I’m not.  But I am still struggling to adjust to my new lifestyle.  It really is quite difficult fitting in when you are the only vampire in your hometown that you know of, and you just want to be human. 

 It happened about eighteen months ago.  Back then I was living alone in my cozy one-bedroom apartment in the city centre of Manchester.  Actually I’m still living there, but everything has changed.  I was working as an office administrator for a logistics company.  The work was ok, fairly routine, and certainly nothing to brag about.  I didn’t really have any career aspirations; I still haven’t found my direction in life.  All I needed was a steady income, and a chance to make friends. 

So I lived in my apartment, quite happy, used to being alone.  I had moved away from my family simply for a change of scenery.  There was no drama, no disaster, and I’m not from a broken home.  I still see my family regularly at weekends, but it’s nice to have some distance, especially now.  I have a small group of friends that live nearby, one actually in an apartment on the floor below me.  We all sort of got to know each other at the local pub down the road, and realized we had a lot in common.

Sorry, I’m boring you.  Anyway, back to my story.  About eighteen months ago I had suffered a very bad day at the hands of my old boss.  He was prone to having depressive mood swings when business was slow or something happened in the aviation industry that would affect his imports and sales.  But he took it out on his staff, which I always thought was very unreasonable.  We worked hard, and never got any thanks. 

On this particular day I had finished work feeling very sorry for myself, and headed straight for the nearest bar on my way home.  I took the bus, so instead of going home first and then calling up my friends for sympathy, all I wanted was a large glass of wine.  Huge mistake!  The nights were drawing in since it was October, and I knew I should never have entered a strange pub on my own in this fragile emotional state.  But I still did it. 

I was sitting in a corner, having downed half of a large glass of red wine, and was staring into space.  Should I resign and find another job?  I really couldn’t take it any longer.  It was unbearable, and I was not prepared to be miserable every day when there was no need.  I had some savings, and I was sure it wouldn’t take long to find another job, even if I went back to shop work in the run-up to Christmas.  Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

“Excuse me, do you have the time please?”  I jumped as the deep male voice spoke quietly beside my ear. 

I turned my head to find a very handsome man standing beside my chair, smiling.  He had light blond hair and blue eyes, and my first thought was Nordic for some strange reason. I smiled instinctively, looked at my watch, and replied. 

“Yes it’s nearly 7:00pm.” 

He nodded, still smiling, and then spoke again. 

“Sorry if I’m being rude, but are you alone?” he asked,  “It’s just that I am too, having come straight from work, and I wondered if you mind me sitting here for a minute?”