Undead (Cricky)

I

We're the scary stories your friends told around the camp fire. We're the kids your parents warned you about. We're everything your nightmares are made of. You've every reason to fear us; and most people do.

Don't get me wrong, we're no Edward Cullen guys. A disgrace to our kind if I must say so myself. Vampires don't fucking sparkle.

The roads at night are peaceful and equally dangerous. Not like I can die or anything. Though it's not me I'm worried about. I like to play around a bit. Test the limits. Piss fate off because god knows she can't have me. Not people like me. We're the undead. Immortal, if you will. It's not like everyone makes it out to be.

This car is a fucking beast. I need to make a mental note to thank Ryan later. He's the one that got it for me. He wouldn't tell me where from. Probably because it's illegal. We try to limit the bad things we do. We can't stay in one place too long if we get on the bad side of law. That's why if we unintentionally kill someone, we have to move immediately. They'd give us life in prison, getting a bit concerned and more pissed that we aren't dying. The jail could rot on top of us and it wouldn't do anything besides puzzle humans.

I slammed the breaks and turned the wheel sharply, sliding into place quite smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it can get. I killed the engine and pocketed my keys.

No light illuminated our house. Ours being me, Ryan, Josh, and Devin. We have no windows, so I can't really tell if anyone is here or not. They're all probably locked up and playing the system. That's all we can do in our spare time. Reading and writing gets boring. I only do it when I get the urge.

I slammed the door shut, being sure it echoed throughout the house. Verbally stating your presence here isn't needed. The four of us are the only ones with keys. So we should be the only ones entering. Unless, of course, one of us drags home a new friend. Friend meaning food or a quick fuck. We try to keep more towards animal blood, rather human. Every now and again though, we treat ourselves.

The console light was on, meaning at least one of them were here. I shut my room door behind me and slipped off my jacket and shoes.

We all have our own personal sections of the house. This is the first time we've ever had it though. We've been here almost forty years, so we've had plenty of time to build onto the once small house. My side is pretty simple. There's a couch, one of each gaming system, a stereo, a wall of books, and a mini fridge of liquor just in the living area. We can't get intoxicated due to the rate at which our bodies heal. I just like the taste. Sometimes I do wish I could just get shit faced. Just one more time.

I pulled a bottle from the fridge, popped the cap, and entered my bedroom. There's a bed even though we don't sleep. I have a bathroom connected to it. I flopped down on the soft mattress. Most of my days are spent playing on the system with one or some of the guys on the couch, so the bed isn't used a lot. Therefore still soft.

Routine is sickening. Routine is safe. I hate it but I need it. During the days, we remain cooped up inside doing exactly what we are now. Our nights are spent at club, concerts, or other things. The second the sun goes down, we're out. How I wish things were different though.

Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if I had never changed. I wasn't given the choice. Living is something humans take for granted. Normal, everyday things people usually look over are things you'll miss most when they're gone. Take sleeping for example. My first day being this way, I tried to sleep but got so pissed off because I couldn't. I had to find other people like me. Which is how I get my gang now. They're okay. They're all I have; but they're okay.

My laptop made a noise. It's not often it does, but I know what it is when it does. Sighing, I pulled myself into a sitting position and grabbed it from my table. I flipped it open and went to my emails. Sometimes I don't understand these guys. My side is merely a door or so down from either of their rooms. Why not walk?