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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

A boy follows a car to an old cemetery and gets an awful surprise.

Jaxon Phillips was strolling along the neatly paved sidewalk when a long, thin black DODGE SRT Viper whipped by. The thin, pale man in the front passenger seat looked at him from behind a pair of sunglasses. After the car was a good distance away, Jaxon realized that the man’s shades had been tinted red.

About twenty minutes later, Jaxon was passing the cemetery when he saw the same black vehicle parked on the side of the road and read what the license plate said.




A chill creeped up his spine.

But he liked things that scared him.

He decided to investigate, despite the creepy vibe this place was giving him. When he got close to the car he saw the pair of sunglasses the man had been wearing.

They weren’t tinted red.

Once again, a chill ran up his spine. He thought about what he was getting into, but decided to keep going.

He  pushed  open the  tall, dark  grey double-doors,  which to his

surprise weren’t locked. This confirms it, Jaxon thought. They’re definitely here. Or at least someone is.

He walked uneasily into the building and proceeded down the gloomy black hallway. As he passed the small office he heard something shift. He looked around, then after a long moment, mustered up his courage and cautiously peered over the edge of the desk.


He crept slowly down the rest of the hall, beginning to think that this wasn’t such a good idea. He strained his eyes and tried to see the other end of the long, black building. It appeared to be a dead end. He decided to keep walking, despite the chance of being cornered. When he was near the end, he saw a door on the right side of the hall that read:




He opened the door, probably the slowest thing he had ever done, and stealthily creeped out onto the small field littered with tombstones of various shapes and sizes that was enclosed by a tall, dark grey fence. He left the door open, to provide himself a quick escape route, in case it was needed. But when he got a few meters away from it, he heard a sound from behind him.


For a few agonizing seconds, Jaxon didn’t want to turn around. Then he heard something slam. Hard. He looked round and immediately knew there was something wrong.

The door was closed.

There was no one there, but Jaxon still a felt fear stronger than anything he had ever felt before. He ran back to the door and tried to open it. He tried shoving against it, pulling on it, but his attempts were futile. It was locked.

He had no way out.

He was still trying to bust open the door when he heard three familiar sounds from behind him.

Tch. Tch tch.

He wheeled around, ever so slowly, to face the horrors that stood before him.

Standing in the pale green grass, their tattered suits drenched in blood from their bottom lips down, were three tall men. The man in the front was wide-eyed and grinning maliciously. Jaxon backed up slowly until his back hit the door with a soft thud. What… what are these things? he thought.

The first man pointed a long, pale finger at him and the other two men behind him curled up their top lips to reveal two pairs of long, gleaming white fangs.

Jaxon screamed. Long and loud. In fact, he kept screaming until the two--Vampires, they’re freaking vampires--dashed forward and oneof them clamped a gnarled hand over Jaxon’s mouth. Jaxon looked helplessly at the first vampire, his face openly displaying the obvious terror that filled him from head to toe.

“We’re going to give you a makeover, little boy.” the man said. “And I believe you’re going to like it.” He displayed his long, sharp finger nails and bared his own set of fangs. This only caused Jaxon to scream again, his high-pitch voice muffled by the vampire’s hand.

“My name is Adrian, by the way,” the vampire said. “And I’m  going to be your ‘stylist’ today.” He laughed, a guttural sound from deep inside his belly. This also got a laugh from his partners. This only made Jaxon’s eyes bulge even more.

When Adrian had stopped his horrible laugh, which had only lasted a few seconds anyway, he floated over to where his comrades held Jaxon.

Oh my goodness, Jaxon thought. They can fly, too? Oh, crap, what’s he going to do to me? Fly me up a thousand feet and drop me? Bury me with a dead body, here in the cemetery? Tear me limb from limb?

He shivered at the thought of that last one.

Adrian put his right hand to his chin, his left hand supporting his right elbow. His right hand was positioned in a way that made it look like he was thinking casually, like how one might think of  where to go out for dinner. Then he lifted his right hand and put up a finger. “Ah, I know!” Adrian said with a smile on his face.

He held his index finger up against Jaxon’s adam’s apple. His finger nail pressed on Jaxon’s throat, he increased the pressure until a trickle of blood leaked out. The other two vampires gave a low growl, a sound that Jaxon was all too familiar with from the Spinnets’ dogs.

With two casual flicks of his wrist, Adrian made an X, centering in the middle of Jaxon’s throat. Blood poured steadily in thin streams down his neck. Jaxon’s eyes closed and he gave a groan of helplessness.

Then, Adrian pulled his hand back and, with solid force, smacked the side of Jaxon’s head with the back of his hand. The blow felt like it had knocked his brain into one side of his skull, then back again. Jaxon was overcome by the pain and fell into a deep, harsh sleep.

Adrian’s eyes glowed a bright red and he smiled, a grin that stretched almost all the way to his ears. He knew that what he had in store for the boy would give him a dreadful surprise. He would be ridiculed by society, or worse. The boy, like the dozens of Adrian’s other victims, and Adrian himself, would learn what it truly meant to suffer.


Adrian was right about one thing: Jaxon was surprised, but not by what had been done to him, he did not know that yet, but by merely the fact that the three vampires had let him live.

He had had a mild headache when he had woken up. He looked at his hands, and then the rest of his body; nothing was wrong. Then he remembered the full extent of what had happened and his hand went instinctively to his neck. He felt the thin, X-shaped scab and guessed that he had been out for at least an hour.

When he pulled his hand away and noticed it was a bit paler than usual. Then realization flooded through him.

He went for the door that had led him out into the graveyard in the first place. It was still locked.

Jeez, thought Jaxon. How did they get out of here without damaging anything?

He tried to push it open; again, it was no use. He yanked on the door knob. It gave no hint of budging.  This time, he yanked again, but with much more force than his last attempt. It came loose with a sound like tearing cardboard. Clean off its hinges.

How had he gotten so strong?

Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no!

He bolted inside, ran into the bathroom and found the mirror. He opened his mouth, for he knew what he was looking for. He tried until he somehow activated a muscle he didn’t recognize. Then it happened.

Fitting perfectly with the rest of his teeth, as if they had always been there, were two pointed white fangs.

Submitted: April 10, 2018

© Copyright 2023 SchoolBoy. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:



Hmm... sorry, guys. I have no idea why it kept switching between fonts.

Wed, April 11th, 2018 7:31pm

Silver Willow

good story!
And the letters on the license plate, did they mean "love blood"?

Fri, October 16th, 2020 12:34pm

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