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Hi, my name is Victoria
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 | Real Vampires Don't Sparkle [02] |
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 4.56 with 9 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-07-19 22:41:03 |
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A/N: Well, here's part 2. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the book Twilight or any of its characters mentioned in this story. I also do not in fact know what Stephenie Meyer is like and how she would truly react to the events in this story. Let it be known that all events in this story are fictional and by no means apply to the real Stephenie Meyer. I have nothing against Stephenie Meyer or any of her work.
The alley was dark as Victoria slipped out of it. She had just discovered that it was a good shortcut to the small house she had acquired some years before. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she slowly stepped over the cool concrete path. Walking to the front door of her home, she pushed the door open with ease. She never bothered to lock her doors, although she had been given the key. Smiling pleasurably at the thought of the successful meal, Victoria sat down on the windowsill in her bedroom, ignoring the tattered book that lay on the wooden floor. Dusty, unused furniture remained in the house from past occupants.
Wind blew in from the open window, blowing strands of her hair out of her face. The only thing about vampires that Stephenie Meyer had gotten right was that they did not have to sleep. In the day, though, when sunlight threatened to take their lives away if they got in its path, vampires remained in a low energy state, lying for hours in the shade of their homes, only partly conscious. Right now, the moonlight was starting to recede. Dawn would soon arrive, bringing with it the first rays of the sun. Victoria scooted down silently from her place on the sill and plucked up her ragged copy of Twilight. Flipping through the pages, Victoria read some of the parts where Edward explained vampires. Nope, no low energy state during sunlight hours, only that c.rap about sparkling in the sun. She angrily kicked the book out of the room, not even glancing at it as it bounced off down the stairs.
Smiling, she got up and walked off.
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Stephenie Meyer had hidden the letter with words written in blood under her bed. She had stuck the body of the teenage boy in one of her neighbor’s trash cans (the trash trucks picked up the cans and emptied them with metal claws, so no one would see the body, but it was just to be safe). Breathing a sigh of relief, she stood in her kitchen, drinking another cup of grape juice to try and calm herself. It wasn’t working.
This was just a prank right? Some sick, cruel prank that some idiotic high school boys were playing on her, right? Her face was white as the sheets on her bed as she took a swig of the grape juice, leaning against the kitchen counter. Surely it was nothing; surely it was just a joke…
Does a dead boy on your lawn with a letter written in blood on his chest seem like a joke? she asked herself. And no, she had to admit, it did not seem like a joke. She knew she was close to being hysterical. Swallowing another mouthful of the drink she had loved since she was four years old, the author closed her eyes and prayed to God that this was all just some sick joke.
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Sunlight poured in from the areas left uncovered on the windows by the heavy curtains. Jessica Teaming sat on the couch, tying her shoe laces. She was going to watch her neighbor’s son at his team’s soccer game today. It would be some sort of way of making up for the absence of the boy’s mother, who had to work while the game was going on. When Jessica heard about this, she had eagerly volunteered to step in and take the boy to the game.
Once her shoes were good and tied, she got up to go and get a hat (the sun was large and scorching today) when she heard someone ring her doorbell. The 21-year-old curiously went over to her door, calling out, “Who is it?” When there was no response, Jessica frowned and opened the door.
Standing on her front patio was a beautiful teenage girl. Her skin was extremely pale. “I am sorry to bother you,” the girl was saying, “but does Stephenie Meyer live in the house over there?” The girl pointed to a house two houses down from Jessica’s.
Jessica nodded. “Yes. Why do you ask?” She carefully studied the pretty girl. She was wearing a cape to veil herself from the sun, and her expression showed some sort of discomfort.
“I am her niece. Could you deliver this to her? I have to hurry home to my mother,” the girl replied, a look of urgency upon her face. Jessica was surprised. She had talked to Stephenie once or twice, and there had never been mention of a niece. But, she supposed that not every niece got talked about to everyone by their aunt.
“Sure, why not? I am going somewhere today anyway,” Jessica replied, smiling at the girl who simply nodded, slunk off, and was soon out of sight. Frowning in confusion, Jessica looked down at the envelope that the girl had handed her.
Shrugging off a strange feeling that was starting to overwhelm her, Jessica headed off down the street. Upon reaching Stephenie Meyer’s house, she rang the doorbell and waited for a minute or two before the door opened. “Who is it?” Stephenie asked, appearing shaky. Noticing who it was, she said, “Ah, Jessica Teaming it is you.”
Jessica nodded. “Sorry to bother you, Stephenie, but your niece came by and told me to give you this.” She held out the envelope.
“M..m..my niece?” Stephenie stuttered disbelievingly, her eyes wide. Jessica just nodded and handed her the envelope.
“Well, I have to go take Polly’s boy to his soccer game,” Jessica said, then turned on her heel and left.
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Stephenie’s heart was pounding as she stepped into her house and shut the door, staring down at the envelope in her hand. Had Jessica really said her niece? She did not have a niece. A couple of nephews, maybe, but not a niece… Her stomach was full of butterflies as she turned over the envelope. It was addressed to her…
Swallowing her fear, she tore open the envelope and took out the letter within, which had words on it written in blood like the last one. It said, ‘Your house is lovely. I hope you don’t mind, but I tried your grape juice, it tasted nice.’ Stephenie Meyer gasped and, despite any intentions to stay strong, fainted on the spot.
[To be continued…] |
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