All Alone

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Little Nicholas was standing on top of the Empire State Building. His red eyes once shined with a glow; now they were dull, no shine. They showed the loss of the soul finally slipped away. He jumped, hoping for his life to end. But no, he landed softly on the ground. Another minute of his life which should be spent in Hell.


He was born to a middle-class family in 17th century London. One day while he was working in the garden, his mother asked him to go to the butcher, so he did. He went, bought the meat, and went home. It was dark, he kept walking. He thought he heard a noise, an animal coming after him. So he ran. He hid in an alleyway. Little did he know, the noise was right behind him.


The last he saw was a man, glowing red eyes, claws instead of fingers, and four white fangs. The man...no, beast, bit into Nicholas's neck. The man then returned to human form, eyes blue, claws and fangs retracted. He picked him up and carried him home.


When Nicholas woke up, he had red eyes, which slightly illuminated. He thought, and suddenly, his fingers transformed into razor sharp claws, so did his feet, his canines sharpened, and grew into fangs. He cried, but after awhile, he accepted what he was, he was a vampire.


He became pale when he did not eat, The sunlight burns vampires who do not have a stable supply of blood in their systems. No one could help his condition, his mother, his father, the priests, his sisters and brothers. Because he killed them all: he was so hungry, animalism and instinct were taking over love and compassion. It wasn't long till the city found out, and the king sent his soldiers, and a mob of Londoners joined them.


When they came towards the empty home, Nicholas was waiting. Over the days he had learned his new abilities of super speed, super strength, he learned how to jump 50 feet in the air, and he had learned to master the transformation from human to vampire forms. He brought out his claws, fangs and talons and crouched on a tall building so they could not see him. Where'd the little demon go? asked a knight.


He got his answer when Nicholas landed on him, ripping through his armor and killing him. He then drank the blood of the knight's horse. The villagers attacked him with torches and swords, but he spun through them, drinking the blood of the living and the corpses. The knights and horses fell one by one, by the end of the fight, London was drained of blood, but smelled of death.


Nicholas ran, he ran at lightning quick speed. He ran to the docks where he stowed away on a ship. That ship took him to the colony of New York, where he stayed ever since, hunting animals and people.


300 years of that. Nicholas shuddered. He looked up to the sky and saw many decorations on the buildings. Christmas trees, people dressed as Santa, the white snow, the cheery attitude. He sunk down into an alleyway and cried. He was alone, he had no family to go to, to celebrate Christmas Eve with, he had no Christmas tree. Deep down he knew, he deserved to be like this, he deserved to be...


...All alone.