This is a girl I met on a My Chemical Romance group on Facebook. This is a story she'd posted and I loved reading it. I asked her to send it to me and she very kindly allowed me to publish it on my blog. She wrote her own bio, enclosed below!
My name is Lorien (Lor-e-n, sometimes it's hard for people to pronounce) Shaw, I just turned 14 and I'm from a small town in the south. I love writing, drawing, playing music, or just expressing my creativity. All I want is to be known as someone who made a positive difference in someone else's life, because I know what it's like to hit low lows.
Early Sunsets Over Monroeville
The sun sets earlier now than it used to. Orange and yellow
skies aren’t a good sign around here. We sat on the ledge of a hill for a
break. I hold my wife’s hand.
“We must get moving soon, Mealina,” I
say. She nods.
“I know. It’s just so beautiful out
here.”
The sky was darkening. I stand,
pulling Mealina up with me. She kisses my cheek and we head off North.
This town used to be so full of life.
Kids running and playing in front yards, cars carrying adults to work, the
occasional cat or dog crossing the street. Now everything is still. The stores
that are left are used as refuges. The only sound that can be heard is the
rustling of the wind. Broken-down cars line the streets. It’s a dismal,
depressing sight.
My wife and I enter our refuge,
quickly calling a meeting for a head-count. I counted the living faces. We lost
no one today. It was progress.
“We’re low on food, Greyson,” Mealina
whispers to me.
“I’ll gather more at sunrise
tomorrow.”
“We don’t have anything for supper,”
she pushes. “We need to feed everyone, especially the children.”
I bite my lip.
“I’ll run out to the garden quickly
and grab a few heads of lettuce. I’ll be back before sunset, I promise.”
“No,” I reply sternly. “It’s too
risky.”
Mealina opens her mouth, ready to
strike back, but gets interrupted by the children running rampant in the small
space. I tell everyone we will not be eating tonight.
As I finish my statement, the back
door swings open and slams shut. I whip my head around, counting everyone’s
face. We’re missing someone.
Mealina.
I jump down from my post and run as
fast as I can out into the yard. I frantically search the area. I run to the
garden.
There she is, gathering lettuce and
tomatoes and other things. I run to her as quickly as my legs will take me, but
I’m too late.
It happens so fast yet it’s playing in
slow motion.
Something small and sleek swoops from
the sky and transforms upon landing. Mealina drops her basket, shocked. The
vampire grabs her shoulders as tears of terror roll down her cheeks. He sinks
his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck and feasts upon her. I stand
motionless, paralyzed with fear and sorrow. The color drains from my wife’s
body.
The vampire pulls away after what
feels like an eternity, even though it was really only a minute. Returning to
his bat form, he flies away, leaving Mealina helpless. I run to her, no longer
frozen.
I pick her up but her body is cold.
Her heartbeat is slowed and her breathing is shallow. I cry over her. Her hand
lifts to my cheek.
“I love you.” Her voice is light and
scratchy.
“I love you, too,” I whimper through
shaky breaths.
I carry her inside and lay her on the
bed. I lock the door and wander to the bedside table. I look at Mealina, my
beautiful, lovely wife with sorrowful eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mealina,” I cry, opening
the first drawer and grabbing the small pistol. Her eyes fill with tears.
“Greyson, no, please,” she whines. I
stop momentarily. Regaining my composure, I load the gun.
“Greyson, I love you.” Tears are
streaming from her face now.
“I love you, too, Mealina. I always
have and I always will. You were the one and only,” I manage to say, wiping my
eyes.
She cries and screams and pleads.
“Greyson, please! I love you, please,
Greyson, please!”
“I’m sorry Mealina. I love you,” I
choke out, aiming for the center of her head.
BANG!!
Mealina is finally still and I fall
back against the wall. The gun falls beside me and I hug my knees and cry. The
other refugees are knocking at the door but I don’t care. There’s a corpse in
this bed and I’m a wreck.
They’re calling out to me.
“Greyson, are you okay?!”
“Greyson, what happened?!”
“Greyson, where’s Mealina?!”
“Greyson?!”
I pick up the gun and reload it. I
can’t live in this nightmare, not with my wife’s blood on my hands. I put the
gun to my head and pray to whatever God is listening.
“I’m so sorry, Mealina, darling,” I
end. “Please forgive me. I love you.”
I pull the trigger and there's a rush
of force and calm and energy and noise and silence, all at once, and then
there’s nothing. I see Mealina. She’s waiting for me. I approach her and hold
her hand. We sit atop a hill and watch the sunset.
“I love you,” she says.
“I love you, too,” I tell her.
THE END
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