The Transformation

Reads: 280  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a short horror story I wrote a while ago!
Like if you like this obviously!
Also, check out my YouTube channel and be sure to subscribe!

Submitted: July 25, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 25, 2013



In the ramshackle crooked old flat of the average family of the Carpenters, things were all but mediocre. Stokely felt the soft but crisp sheets of his duvet. As he checked the time on his grimy phone he thought there was a damp spot on the sheet. He scrabbled around in the black dark looking for his lamp. The air Stokely inhaled was musty like old boot leather and dust particles. He found the push-switch, used it, but nothing changed in the room. As he moved his foot over the sheet he found the damp area and it seemed to be larger than before and wetter, almost sticky like golden syrup or used cello tape. The boy remembered there was a candle on the windowsill next to his bed with some matches nearby. He reached over gingerly like he was touching or reaching into icy water. With one cold, spindly hand Stokely lit it. As he did so he winced as he felt a dull ache in his neck. The room was illuminated harshly on his eyes and what Stokely saw was awful…


The sticky substance on his bed didn’t come from nowhere. It was slowly trickling from the ceiling where there was a gaping hole. The liquid was a deep intoxicating red. Stokely scrambled across the bed like a tiny field mouse. He felt that way. The bedroom smelt like iron now, almost metallic in flavour. Oddly the window was wide open like it had been flung open from the outside. “Oh god no” he gasped while he was surprised he could even talk as his lips were as dry as bone.


Stokely grabbed at his neck when he felt a sharp pain there. It was wet and sticky just like the sheet. He thought he could actually taste the blood even though there was none in his mouth. He wanted the rusty red substance like nothing he had ever experienced. Whatever the cost, he would have to get the liquid. “The window…I will follow my kind…” Stokely felt revived even though he knew he was long gone, meant to be dead completely. He leaped out of the window, which was no longer an obstacle for Stokely with the renewed strength running through his veins. Landing like a feather he dropped down the 7 storeys that supported his home. He was ready…he was a vampire now. There was a tapering trail of his substance running down the dark, grimy, homely alleyway. His perception was changing even though some trepidation still managed to seep into his heart like cold, black ice. His mind was vacant apart from the urge to find more of his kind and acquire food. Stokely started down the alley following the trail that was his own blood. The stream weaved and wandered through several dark nooks and crannies and crows-cawed overhead. Finally his journey came to an end.


A gigantic manor house that was truly awe inspiring to the very essence of the word awe. A shadow seemed to creep and seep and crawl out of every corner and spire of the imposing building…more crows were stationed like gargoyles around. Here he would hunt and kill for hours and days and months and years to come...

© Copyright 2018 SnowyWrites. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: