Writing Prompts

The old familiar sting. The exhaustion. Sheer joy on another face as a soul is saved.

Near enough to a soul as anyone could tell. Those that went under the fang never regretted their return to humanity. Their horror stories were never enough, though. More people were swayed by the fang every year. You couldn't scare a fang banger straight. They almost always went for the bite.

Young people too edgy for their own good. Old people afraid of death. Poor people. People who just couldn't line with the shitty hand they were dealt. Those without any direction saw the allure of the fang as a way out. Another way to live. The fangs had good marketing. You usually didn't hear about how you could lose your free will to a powerful elder vamp.

A few of us have some kind of gene. They haven't been able to replicate it yet. It has to come fresh. It has to be freely given. The donor needs to be strong of will to survive it as well. I've de-fanged about 30 vamps now. The scar tissue on my wrists and neck are almost impossible to conceal. Long sleeves and turtle necks are often give-aways as well.

I'm tired of it. So fucking tired of the praise. The looks of pity and distain the other people give when they learn. It's too hard for everyone to give. Us lucky few are blessed to suffer for the cause.

No cure had been turned yet. No one has really tried. I found someone who is willing to help me try. Take the vamps down from the inside. No more helping. No more treating the symptoms. It's time for all the vamps to die.