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Pen Your Pride


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Hey guys. Well, this is my second attempt at a proper story and basically, this is just a taster. All i really want to know is if i should keep writing. Obviously, there isn't much of a storyline yet, but its your average Vampire story. Yes, yes, i know... Not another Vampire Story! But i promise you, cross my heart, that this is not like Twilight. No sparkling vampires and no silly naive human girls chasing monsters. If you read some of it and decide to not like it, fair enough. Who am i to judge? But all i ask is that you give it a chance? I would be so grateful for some feedback on what you think and some constructive criticism. If you read and comment mine, i will do the same for you. Thankyou.



I woke up to the searing sensation of pain, tingling on the tip of my fingers and bombarding my skull like a thousand tiny drums. Confusion and uncertainty awoke me from my restless slumber, reviving my mind from its dizzy sleep. My body felt heavy, as though my muscles were dead and I had no power to move my weak prickling limbs.

Suddenly, the throbbing pain that dominated my mind was replaced with fear and panic. My eyelids flew open abruptly, revealing my previously hidden ivy-green eyes to the existent world. Above me, towering trees soared into the air, their blanket of leaves like a bright green canopy over my churning head. The bright colours puzzled me at first; their vivid emerald colour combined with the growing darkness confusing my eyes to no end. The gloomy shadows made only my white clothes visible, but even then, I struggled to visualise my surroundings.

My lush blonde hair lay in tangles around my shoulders, cascading across the grass and dirt in glossy white-gold waves. Even my blonde hair was being swallowed up by the dark mysterious shadows, and the thought frightened me too much to lie still.

Slowly and hesitantly, I lifted my weak arms and pushed my body up, grimacing in the process at the burning sensation around my head. The migraine that occupied my mind prevented me from gathering information and processing it; the throbbing was too much, too excruciatingly painful. Never before had I had such an enormous head ache (but then again, never before had I found myself lying in the middle of a forest in a puddle of ache).

As I heaved my body up further into a sitting position, my back hunched over as though it could eliminate some of the tenderness, the place in which I lay became less of a hazy blur. I stared uneasily at the trees, their imposing selves making me feel out of place and inapt. It was a horrible feeling, being somewhere you don't recognise at all and feeling inappropriately placed.

My breathing was the only sound, but the noise wasn't comforting; my breath was raspy and broken, as though whoever had put me here had shoved cobwebs down my windpipe. The silence was horrible too; someone was watching me, I knew it in my gut like i knew my own name; Jenna Clark.

Something wet and warm stuck to my arm, its vivid ruby colour contrasting against my pale complexion. I stared blankly at the dripping blood, my fear rising until it formed a lump in the back of my throat. With a deep breath, my hand rose and I touched the top of my head. Just like I suspected, on the tip of my dirt-stained fingers was a gloopy red residue, the exact same substance that lay in a miniature lake around me. At least now I know why my head felt like it exploded.

I glanced down at myself and almost gasped; my clothes were ripped and torn at the seams, grime and mud was pasted all over the white fabric like a small child had used my body as a canvas for their immature dirt hand-printing. 

Some of the blood was crumbling and crispy, its colour fading into an ugly brown that could have been mistaken as dried mud, but some of the liquid was new and fresh. Just below my neck on the lining of my t-shirt, the blood was damp and wet, staining my flawless skin with its vivid colour. Gently, my hand rose again and dabbed at my neck. I stopped immediately, my breath caught off short and my heart beating like a set of loud banging drums; not only was there fresh blood, but there was a round mark. To be precise; a bite mark.

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