The Coming Storm Preview PG-13

The thing about death is that it doesn’t feel like anything. Which is a little bit annoying. Not exactly poetry, but considering I was thinking it with three stakes through my heart it was pretty good. But maybe I should back up a little bit. My name was Caliban. Anybody who knows there Shakespeare will probably be laughing at that, considering my situation. How did I get here? Well, I’m a vampire. Don’t think what I think your thinking. I don’t fucking sparkle. I’m not a fucking vegetarian, and no I won’t fall in love with some stupid girl in Alaska who’s mouth is always hanging open. I would rather kill you and drink your blood than take you on a romantic date and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. So don’t say anything.

    There, now that I got that out of the way, I can tell you my story. Wait, one more thing, I forgot to tell you about my brother. His name was Stephano. Ma definitely knew her Shakespeare, because to me Stephano was like my god. He was like me, a bloodsucking, bottom feeding bastard. But he was a bloodsucking bottom feeding bastard with class. He walked around in his black velvet suit and his long black hair, feeling constantly high and mighty. I always called him Lestat of course, and threw “Interview With a Vampire” quotes at him constantly.
    “Cal, get me some water, would ya?” said Stephano “I’m so thirsty I could drink the sink.”
    “Your body's dying. Pay no attention, It happens to us all.” I quoted spitefully as I gave him a glass of rust flecked water.
    “Oh give it a rest, would you Caliban?”
    “ There might be life in this old lady yet!” I yelled as he swung a lazy fist at me. “Come on Staphano, it’s time to go get a bight.” We walked outside. I think it was about eleven at night. Slim pickings, but you gotta make do with what you have. I saw a couple girls and we grabbed them and pulled them into an ally. I took of my sun glasses (my eyes are red) and took a look at them. Instantly I turned on the charm and hypnotised them. A few minuts later I bit into her neck, enjoying the feel of blood on my parched mouth. Meal over, Stephano and I returned to our run down shit hole of a home to wait till day passed. I flicked on the tv and slapped it to get rid of the static. A recording of Tempest was on and I gave Staphano  a hug for old memorys. My name sake recited his speech, the deformed mutant of a man showing intelegence behind a bruised and battered body.
    “Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.” My voice copied that of my twisted namesake. This moment reminded me of my mother, her voice for once not slurred from the cheap spirits she always drank. She looked upon me, and for once she did not have a look of disgust on her face.
    “Your a monster Caliban, but your a beautiful one,” This was one of the only pleasant memories I had of my abusive, shambled wasteland of a home.
    Hallmark moment over, I went to sleep the day away. When I awoke it was nine o’clock. The sun had just set. It was a perfect night for a vampire. I got out of bed (I bet you thought I slept in a coffin) and jumped out of my window. My inky black bat wings sprouted from the darkness of my jacket and I landed gracefully. It sure is fun to do that, I thought to myself as I walked away from that shit hole of a apartment. The stars had been obscured a long time ago by the profuse smog from the number one self destructing country in the world. Welcome to America. Home of the all you you can eat couch potato.