Night Rush

Prologue



The teenager of raven, untamed silky hair, eyes of the wildest cobalt, sat in front of his computer, promptly continuing his previous work on the keyboard, inserting all the data. Sighing, he listened to the merciless rain pouring outside his window as he leaned against his navy blue chair.

First Entry.

29th September 2010

Ok, so this is just random talk, right? I come in here and spit all the sordid details of my life, while you read, on the verge of tears when it turns into a drama, laughing really hard when a stupid moment comes or maybe not caring at all and clicking just for the heck of it.

He paused for a moment to taste the words on his mind, thinking of the next sentence and the reasons why he chose to do such a thing. “Why indeed?” he mumbled. He couldn’t remember.

Well, no.

I don't want that, in fact, I don't care if you simply stumbled and ended up here. I'm simply bored and decided to start it, because this will be a public journal. MY JOURNAL, to be more precise since I don't want to write about ponies, the stupid students who parade around my school, or amazing trips around the world with only a backpack on my shoulders... Yes, it would definitely be interesting but I don't think anyone cares about it if it's not a Harry Potter book.

His eyes halted on his friend’s Polaroid picture, pyramids in the background and a skull of ruby sharp eyes in the dirty hands of the adventurer. There was a thumb print on the tip. He tried to clean it but ended up smudging it worse, so he gave up.

Unexpectedly, he could see his new neighbors from the window, a big family judging by the number of people crossing the door, the furniture being carried inside the house.

“Dammit, Damon! Bring the mattress to the second floor, not the first!” a female voice shouted loudly from the other house and Syla was convinced everyone in a mile radius could have heard her.

“Okay!” an unenthusiastic male tone responded and Syla ignored the churning tingle that made his stomach swirl. Probably hungry, nothing else.

He tilted his head behind, listening to his belly, which responded with a noisy ache for food, a sandwich waited nearby on his desk. Taking a greedy chunk, he once again turned to his computer screen. He frowned when he detected mayonnaise in the middle of the tuna. Not his favorite ingredient.

So, after this small explanation, what will I write about?

Good question.

I thought about writing casual stuff, maybe cars or rare demons, but that's horrendous. (Yeah, I said horrendous *LE GASP*) Who wants to read about some guy commenting on his telepathic ability or the bloodsuckers’ new thingy when we have specialists for that? It would appear as if I'm lonely, eagerly waiting for some other geek to come and answer when I know I won't reply. Never. Ever.

Now, my third and last option was this.

What is this?

He pondered for a while, playing with the ideas roaming freely on his head till he settled down for something simple. “What the hell, just go with it,” he muttered softly.

I don't know but who cares, it won't affect your life and it will only expose mine.

He threw the sandwich to the garbage beside his desk, cleaning his fingers on the napkin. Pinching his nose, the black haired teen decided it was time to end the first entry, and finished the strange explanation for his blog.

My name is Syla and I could kill my mother for that.

P.S. It's read [‘sila] and it's an awful name, I know, but don't forget and start calling me [sela], because I’ll hunt you down and beat you. Seriously.
End of entry.

The 17-year-old adolescent clicked swiftly, an hour already gone by. Well, since he had nothing better to do in the afternoons, the journal would occupy most of his time and there were some improvements on his profile he wanted to experiment. Tomorrow, he promised himself. He would work it out tomorrow.

“Damon, look out for the vase!” the shrilly scream made Syla flinch and a clear breaking noise echoed around as pigeons flew away instinctively.

“Sorry!” the guy named Damon answered perhaps groggily and Syla simply shook his head. His new neighbors were definitely weird.

Nothing interesting happened in the last few days, except the new neighbors finally settled in. They were a lively and noisy bunch of people. He pretty much had all the time in the world since it was still vacation time before he started his night classes and sophomore year.


****

Syla yawned, ruffling his hair out of habit, his senses extra sensitive because of the bloody moon starting a new circle. He hated the bloody moon. Then again, he didn’t know any vampire who didn’t hate it.

His pajama was blue with crimson devils drawn all over and worn out around the elbows. It was a late morning and the first day of school. Luckily it was closed due to heavy weather and all students returned home in the death of the night. His parents left the house early, around 7 o’clock as standard, the breakfast ready on the table.

“-news of an attacker… Star Park near Wilson High School… three female-” the TV gave the late morning news to an empty living room, the thin wall muffling some of the words but not enough to escape Syla’s ears. The emptiness of the house was as chilly as a silent storm, but his attention was centered on the computer, not the TV.

1st October 2010

Ok, new day, after the small first entry, I've probably scared the living sh*t out of the more sensitive readers and I'll continue, just so you know.

He snorted, his eyes drifting back and forth as he considered what exactly he should write. Damn TV was too high, he couldn’t think properly with that echoing around the house.
“-students between... found the bodies buried-” the TV was incessant in its rumbling.

He leaned forward, yawning half heartedly, fingers speeding. Even if he lacked the lethargy sleep brought in the morning when he stayed up all night, he always felt it every time he yawned. It was quickly becoming a habit.

Many reasons appear in my head but they're all pesky and plain annoying so for now I'll boringly pretend to happily describe my day.

He crinkled his nose with a pained moan. He started having second thoughts, it was plain annoying to write happy stuff when such pestering subjects had to be described. So relating his day would be done very minimally. Extremely minimally.

I woke up.
I had breakfast.
School hasn’t started yet.
So I’m here.
The End.
P.S. all events happened during nighttime.

Yes, very detailed, isn't it? Anyone can figure it quickly so there are only small points to describe now. He was pretty oblivious about everything else.
The surrounding sound started echoing. His father seemed to almost forget it on purpose. “-mutilated… described as an act of hate against demons… the deceased’s families-” Of course, he wasn’t a person very thrilled to see TV; he obviously preferred the comforts of his computer and all the possibilities it offered. But for the past month the news didn’t seem to talk about anything else, which irritated him to no end. He was a vampire, bodies and blood wasn’t what made his world go round.

Disregarding it, he reconsidered all the topics to write in the journal and decided to start with the smallest one, insignificant but important enough to tell to whatever readers he might actually have.

I have a sister, her name is Cherry and she hates it. Period. She's 20 years old, just had her birthday party, found her mate and drank till she dropped to the floor. Another Period.

He had a typical older sister, bossy and demanding, with a waitress job in a downtown café, close to her college. Physically, she had dark brown hair from their father and tanned skin from multiple vacations. However he was not competent enough to say if she had any potential as a normal person. Narcissus, her boyfriend, seemed to put up with her every time. It amazed him how the guy could accept her personality.

“-the psycho police made no comments… investigation. Back to the…yesterday on IC-19 an accident involving two-” the journalist ended the report of the homicides with a serious expression, changing the news to a car accident on IC-19.

Thank god, if I heard one more sentence about it, I would personally seek out the killer just to shut the damn reporters up! Even the news about Squirt the aquatic squirrel is better than this! he thought to himself.

My sister is older than me by two years.

He groaned when the TV increased volume, but decided to let it go, adding a few more details to the sentence.

Sh*t, I just gave my age away... yeah, I’m eighteen.

She's the image of intelligence as she can already buy trendy outfits for the next season while ignoring the discounts. I guess half our money problems are thanks to her.

They didn’t have money problems per se, they had a comfortable life, a bit above average, theoretically speaking, but it was hard to make the money meet its end if the daughter herself spent more than the four digits they brought home every month.

At least if the money was hers my father wouldn't have to worry about hiding his notes in the playboy magazines under the bed and my mother wouldn't have to hide the credit cards inside the turkey in the fridge.

Anyway, they're still smarter than her. I don't want to find out what'll happen when her demon awakens. Yeah, she’s older but she’s a werewolf so her pup will only have fully grown when she reaches 21. Now it’s more like a doggy. Don’t let her hear I told you this, she would slaughter me.

Oh, yes, the werewolf. Finally he reached a more interesting topic seeing that more than half the people who went to his school were petty humans. Though that half only attended it during the day.

He, as a vampire, was obligated to follow the law and register himself in the system every year. Wearing the f*cking bracelet that discerned him from others was plain annoying. Most of them hid their true essence and followed the rules, to never harm a human and have civility. Nevertheless he knew some were just too eager to eat an overly obese human once in a while. But that didn’t matter, after all the psycho police was created for that very reason. Besides, humans probably tasted nasty.

Now let's talk about my parents since we're already with the hands on the pot.

My father's President Obama.

“Yeah right!” That’s what you gonna say and I'm not going to deny it, he isn't.

But at least his daughters can say that to their friends, after all having the president for a father is pretty cool.

The clock continued its sluggish rhythm, seconds lingering too long in Syla’s opinion.

My father, biologically and genetically speaking is John, like the bathrooms in England. He’s cool, sometimes a worrywart or slacking too much but I guess he’s okay. He’s also a vampire if that’s what you’re wondering.

Let's pass the hot potato to my mother, Mrs. Carmen Cole, aka Mom. She's a chicken mother since she cares too much about us and you can always count on her to bail you out of bad situations. Ohh, I forgot to mention, you can also count on her to receive a few slaps if you come home after the scheduled hour. I have a few memories that prove it and she has a heavy hand. She’s a were. Don’t ask how they got together, it still amazes me.

I'm in my last year of high school. I'm a good student, a bit above average in certain subjects like Biology, Demon Sociology, and P.E. but I suck at Math.

He felt itchy and thrilled for school but also lazy from vacations. There would be a long time till he could sleep all day again.

The conversation seemed to be losing its initial appeal. He needed to change topics as fast as he could or surely he would feel guilty for not touching the school homework on his desk. “Stupid math teacher…”

Next topic, my friends.

They're two people: Mary Jane Gray and Kyle McInzie. They’re a water fairy and a fire demon. Yeah their names got them to be bullied a bit, I have heard some nasty comments myself but nothing a vampire can't handle. You just need to glare, beat them if they attack you and win. Or die in the process.
Simple and effective.

Sadly, sometimes the last sentences were more truth than lie. Or maybe not, pish posh.

Next subject, a very important though unrelated to all of this.

Will I continue writing and finally start describing my insignificant life or will I stop and haunt your dreams for not being Edward Cullen?

You tell me.

End of entry.

The last part he added just for the heck of it, just a little something to discuss another day.

****

A/N: enjoy, tell me what you think and rate if you liked it!