most likely goodies ; an update book

a compilation of my unpublished works

here are my unfinished books/works i have accumulated throughout the years, so enjoy (this, in total, is 10k+ words long)

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setosolace // vampires will never hurt you
chapter 1:

I squeeze my gun tightly in my sweaty palms. The street is abruptly silenced as the gray haze settles in. The crickets stop their calls and my breathing shallows. I squint, trying to make sense of the dancing shadows in the distance. My eyes like to deceive me whenever I'm nervous; it's hard to trust them. I know this street had been abandoned for years, but I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

The silver strip of moonlight provides me some sense of direction and light. It pierces through the thick haze as if it was a knife cutting through room temperature butter. There's a clearing in the center of the road and I rush towards it. The haze surrounds me. I am blanketed like a child.

The street lamps choose to flicker and send sparks onto the pavement. The faulty wiring of these very lights caused a threat towards the inhabitants of, what use to be, a hotspot of human life. Apartment buildings, cafes, and small shops on this street have all been abandoned. Or so I had thought.

I reload my gun. The noise is not muffled like I had anticipated it to be. It sends an echo down the street. The noise bounces off the pavement and walls of those abandoned buildings. It carries itself so efficiently to the street's curb and into the moonlit sky.

It's becomes silent again, maybe for about two minutes. Another noise is sent my direction. It's the sound of heels scraping against the pavement and a low cackle. Instead of lowering my gun, I raise it forward. Aiming, I pull the trigger. The neon purple laser pierces through the gray haze and eventually fades. I smell something burning. Firewood, I conclude. I must have hit the bark of a tree.

I feel my world spinning as I see a male, looking no older than I am, emerging from the haze. He's adorned in a black suit with a curt grin on his pale lips. His black tie was done messily and his wrinkled, bloodstained, white collared shirt was half tucked into his black slacks. Despite the black and white look, his hair is an electrifying shade of blond while his eyes were neon blue.

"Another hunter? Gosh, it's the third time this week!" He speaks hastily with an Australian accent. He stands in front of me. His left hand forces my chin up. I take a look into those neon blue eyes of his.

My knees buckle under his touch. It's causing my heart to leap out of my chest; not in a good way. I drop my gun, wanting to speak but too tongue tied. I manage to catch glimpse of his sharp fangs in the silver strip of moonlight above our heads. The fear that has begun to instill in my chest prevents me from running. This is it --- this is where I die.

"What's your name, mister hunter?" He sounds awfully childlike, as if he were choosing to taunt me. "Your skin is so pretty. There are no blemishes or bruises on it."

I stay quiet. He frowns, "What's the matter, doll? You have no name? Hasn't your mother told you that it's rude to not answer questions?"

More like not to talk to strangers, I think to myself. The thought of mother scolding me nearly made me chuckle. Now isn't the time for childhood memories.

He sighs exasperatedly, almost as if he had lost complete interest in our conversation. He contemplates for a moment, then speaks, "You're simply too pretty to be one of us."