Josh Breskin

Are you kidding me? Not only have I killed human beings, but I've enjoyed every moment. I've smiled and licked my chops after I've done it, and I can't wait to do it again. So many of you people waste your lives, I'm practically doing you a favor if I end your sorry existence. If I get a good meal and a chuckle out of it, then it's a total win-win sort of thing.

Oh god, I can hear some of you trolls bitching about the fact that I'm not technically a human being anymore. Fine. In that case, I would not kill one of my kind. Why would I? We're powerful, exciting and we will never die. I dream of the day when we have you morons under our collective thumb. Right now, I hunt you for survival. One day, I'll do it for sport.

Unless your name's Elie.

150

Charles and Valerie Breskin are my parents. They're decent, hardworking people, and they have a lot of money because of all that hard work. They live in Malibu, they raised me and my siblings to share their values and know the satisfaction of earning a good living so we wouldn't turn out like all their neighbors' spoiled rich brats. My older brother's in medical school, my sister's working on... Shit, I don't know. Probably a degree in saving the world through excessive whining and recycling. I know my baby sister will go to college and probably end up as the CEO of some Fortune 500 company. That or President of the United States. They're good, smart people, and they wouldn't have turned out that way if Chuck and Val hadn't done such a fine job of rearing them. (I graduated from college with a degree that would allow me to contribute the least to society. You don't see a whole lot of theater majors helping disaster victims - unless it's for good press and photo ops, of course. If I was a doctor, I'd be expected to do that crap because it was my 'duty.' Whatever.)

Now, all of that is to explain (in a really roundabout way) why I wouldn't want new parents. I know it's kind of boring to say that (and, god knows, it's been kind of tiresome seeing everyone saying the 'different parents would mean a different me' thing) but boring or tiresome doesn't mean it's not true. The basic answer is, I wouldn't pick anyone in the world, living or dead, to be my parents because no one could ever replace my dear, sweet mom and dad.

And if you don't buy that, I've got another reason:

I wouldn't want anyone else to be my parents because there's no telling if other parents would put up with my shit. I've spent years honing my skills at bullshitting and charming them when I need to. I have no guarantee that another set of parents would fall for that stuff. Don't get me wrong, now. I do love them. I'd be sad if they died (Mom's my biggest fan). They've been really cool to me and my brother and sisters, and I know how lucky we are to have them as our folks. To tell you the truth, I don't know how the hell they managed to get stuck with a brat like me. Same goes for my baby sister, who is, like I've said before, a mini girl version of me. Maybe there's a recessive "bad seed" gene in the family line. Chuck and Val don't seem to mind, though, and that's why I'd keep them.

450

I haven't been to a party since December 31st. That was my birthday. I'd had a combination birthday-New Year's Eve thing, invited everyone I knew over to the house and wasn't surprised that my friends had brought along a lot of people I didn't know.

One of those people was Liz. Have you ever looked at a girl and suddenly everyone else in the room disappears and all you can see is her? It was like that when I saw her. She was exactly my type - tall, thin, long dark hair, dark eyes - and when she looked at me, I knew I wasn't the only one feeling something. She'd come with a friend of mine and he introduced her as his girlfriend. I wasted no time in getting her alone so I could try to change that.

We snuck away to my bedroom where we made out a little, talked a little, and eventually fell for each other over the course of an hour. Every time someone came in because they'd been looking for us, I told them to go back and enjoy the party. The guy she came with left after telling us both to go to hell, but I didn't give a shit. He wasn't that good a friend. Finally, I locked the bedroom door, officially abandoning my guests.

I didn't think twice about the fact that her skin should have felt warmer, or she was a little paler than she probably should have been. All that mattered was how much I wanted her. When she sank her teeth into my neck, it took a second for me to realize what was happening. God, it hurt, but I loved every moment of pain because she was the one causing it. She brought me to the brink of death that night, then saved me because she wanted to keep me. That's how she puts it and I don't mind. She's taken care of me ever since.

329

It's been two and a half months since my Big Change, so it's been easy for me to go along as if nothing's changed. Seriously, I've always been a night owl, being a dick is nothing new, and I never ate all that much before. So I have a liquid diet now, and, ooh, I'm evil. Who gives a shit?

Still, two and a half months is absolutely nothing compared to how long I'm going to be around. Barring some asshole sticking me with something wooden and pointy (or introducing my neck to the business end of the sharp weapon of their choice), I'm going to live forever. Forever is a mighty long time, kids. In about fifteen years, I'm going to have to figure out how to explain to my friends why I still look 23. It's not like I'm going to be some TV vamp who visibly ages even though he's not supposed to. This is real life. I don't know, maybe I can tell them I'm taking Chinese herbs or doing yoga or some shit like that.

I really don't know what I'll tell my family. Maybe I should just kill them all, except for Mallory. I could turn her on her 18th birthday so she'll always be my kid sister. I'd say I was just kidding, but the more I think about it, the more I like that idea. I don't want to spend forever alone and Mallory's the only person I trust.

Hey, I wonder if I can get an agent if I play up the vamp thing. Who the hell is more bankable than a star who doesn't age and can't die?

278 words

If you'd have asked me this last year, I would have said no. All that spooky, paranormal crap was just that. Crap. I was the annoying guy who wanted empirical evidence for everything or else I'd dismiss it as nothing more than a fairy tale. I'd do the ouija board with my friends and push the planchette around so I could scare the shit out of them by telling them they were going to hell for fucking with dark forces.

Being face to face with a monster you never thought existed has a funny way of changing a guy's perspective, though. Imagine how much a mind can be changed if you actually become one of those monsters. I don't have any proof that the thing lurking in the closet or the boogeyman lying in wait under the bed is real, but I do know that things I previously dismissed as mythical creatures are very real. I've yet to see a ghost up close and personal, mind you, but if I could have been wrong about other creeps that go bump in the night, I'm probably wrong about ghosts, too. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and believe in them until I get evidence they don't exist.

208 words