I have thought about Scrivere my own story for quite some time, with my main influence being twilight-7. She has an amazing Scrivere style and has kept me and many others enthralled da her captivating story. I don’t want anyone to think that my stories will be in any way shape o form nearly as good as hers but I will give it a try and if no-one likes it then I will simply give up and try something new.
Suggestions and commenti will be kindly welcomed throughout.



Chapter 1.


I sit alone in my room in silence, 7pm, another sleepless night ahead. Although I don’t seem to get tired, I just sit and sit and sit. I try to occupy my mind with Musica o books, but nothing works. It is still all running through my mind as though it is a song on repeat. I see him there stood in front of me. His eyes blank, dark, endlessly staring into my terrified eyes. I cerca them for a speck of humanity but fail to find any. The things he had detto to me that night, it was as if he was in my mind. He told me things I had never told another living soul. I tried to run but he was just too fast, hi strong grasp around my arm. He tried to tell me not to be scared and to stop resisting. I couldn’t believe his mordacity, here he was holding me captive in this dark, cold place and he is telling me not to be scared. He told me he was once human, how he too had a family, a life, a fear of those who were different. But he knew I was different, he knew it was not him I was scared of, but the hollowness of his eyes. His eyes were the most terrifying thing on this planet at that moment.
“Why do te resist? Do te not want to be here forever with me?”
He asked as if it was my duty to unisciti him, to just give up everything that makes up who I am to become some hungry, empty shell that once was human. I try to free myself from his vice like grip only for him squeeze his hand tighter till my arm had turned numb.
“Why…………..I don’t understand…………..make me understand……….but not like this…….there must be another way?”
My pleas were useless, he sunk his teeth deep into my neck. I could feel the blood leaving my body into his ferocious teeth. Moments later he released me, my body filled with a burning sensation. It felt like a river of lava flowing through my veins rushing hurriedly to fill every limb.
The pain is excruciating. I plead with him to make it stop but he just stands there, a frightened look on his face as if he had just witnessed this, rather than being the one to inflict it upon me.
I fall to the floor, cold leaves hitting my skin as the venom spreads. I lie there, pain searing throughout my whole being. It is like acid corroding all it touches, dissolving away what little humanity remains in my body, until there is a sudden feeling of falling. I try to reach out to grab his hand but I miss. I fall into a deep state of unconsciousness so I am able to block out the horrors that surround me.

My cuore skips a beat as there is a knock at my door.
“Alexandria? Honey, are te okay?”
The voice belongs to my grandmother, the woman who took me in all those years fa after the accident. Her frail frame is mask for all the brilliance than is generated da her mind. For an 91 anno old woman she is still very much alive, spinning out stories for all the younger children, telling them of great towers and beautiful maidens in need of some rescue. Telling them of the awful dangers the Ribelle - The Brave and gallant knight face in order to save their true Amore from a terrible beast of some sort.
I think upon these stories and ask myself why they never come true, why the one te Amore is almost always the one to hurt te the most. I keep these thoughts to myself, in fear of crushing her child-like imagination.
The feeling of falling subsides as I sposta to answer my bedroom door.
“Are te coming down to supper? I know te haven’t been yourself lately but te still have to eat” She says with a stern look. Although with this sentiment comes a dash of irony. Since that night I had come to realise I don’t need to eat, o sleep o other normal things I used to take for granted.
“I’ll be down in a little while, Nan” She like being called Nan, detto it made her feel young, something I would never take away from her.
She left the hallway and made her way to her own room.
Little over an ora had passed and I began to wonder why my grandmother had not returned to see why I had not gone to supper, so I called and got no reply. I carefully opened my door in fear that something serious had happened. I padded gently down the hallway in my slippers until I reached the door to her room. I stood still, shock hitting me like a speeding train, I stared at what was before me. The bloodstained letto sheets were hanging off the bed, the window wide open. I stood frozen, not daring to sposta an inch. Until I could not stand the anticipation a moment longer, I carefully stepped round the door only to my grandmother lying on the floor, eyes still open, staring up at me. They showed the terror that she had felt in her last moments, I knelt on the floor and touched her face, it was still warm and her eyes began to flicker as though she was trying to communicate with a special from of sign language, but I didn’t understand.
I knew at that moment I had a choice to make. I could leave my wonderful grandmother in a pool of her own blood to ebb away o change her into a creature, a savage beast that takes life from those who deserve to keep it the most. I had little time to consider this, something I knew but still I just sat a thought to myself.
How could I do that to such a sweet old lady? Although she doesn’t need to die, she can live on, telling her stories and filling many childhood dreams with magic and excitement.
These thoughts circled round in my head till I knew it was too late, the decision had been taken out of my hands.
She was gone, nothing I could o about it, I would never hear her voice call my name in full, the only person I knew that did since…….since my mother. I held her hand in a hope that it may somehow revive her, for her to ask me to help her up and help her clean up. Those requests never came, she just lay there, her eyes now closed. People always say that when people die they look as I they are sleeping. This I could not believe looking at the face of my grandmother. I reach over to pull up her blood covered scialle over her shoulder, she hated it when it fell down, and I noticed marks on her neck that could only be made da one thing.
I brushed my fingers over them hoping that I would see something, but there was nothing, just darkness. I couldn’t stay in the house one moment longer, I knew what I had to do. The only domanda was: Could I do it?