Short Story.

Yellow. It really is an ugly, no, vile colour is it not? Well, I was wearing a yellow shirt. Ugh. My supposed ‘stylist’ had decided that I should wear it. Heavily considering stripping off the shirt although deciding against it, as much as I hated the shirt and as much as I’d like to walk half-naked instead of wearing that...thing I had no choice or say in the matter. I was modelling for some store so they got a say in what I wore, as ugly as they wanted it. A lot of debate had come of this shirt, between me, my agent and all those annoying ‘fashion designers’. How could they call themselves fashion designers if what I was wearing was a hideous as I thought it was. Alas, I had no choice but to suck it up and get on with my life. Thank the gods I was nearly done!

Films, events, modelling and so much more. I was really getting sick of it by now, I never got to take a break, I practically lived on my private jet! Get to your film premiere in London, the day after you’re flying to Las Vegas for a modelling job, and so it went on and on day after day. I couldn’t take anymore. It was getting too much. Way too much, only today I had taken a day off. It was the early morning of Monday today although it wasn’t a happy Monday. I was alone at home and was getting into a tux, although not for an event or party. For a funeral. My best and well, only friend had died tragically. Rapidly I hopped into the shower and washed my salt-and-pepper coloured hair. After a minute or ten when I’d finally run out of warm water I slowly got out and dried myself off. I walked naked to my walk-in closet and opened a drawer and pulled on some black boxers followed slowly by some socks. I walked to a different door and yanked it open. Swiftly revealing a white button-up shirt, I pulled on to cover up my smooth muscular chest. Some smooth black men’s skinny jeans came out of a third drawer without pockets so they looked tidy. I pulled them up, tucked my shirt in only then to roll up the sleeves of my shirt. Rummaging through my entire closet trying to find my grey waistcoat. After a minute or seven I found it and pulled it on, buttoned up the three buttons and flattened it out carefully. To finished I put some gel on my hand and smeared it in my hair and just spiked it up. I ran downstairs in a hurried pace because I was going to be late. I grabbed my Converse and ran out the door on my socks to my garage.

An aura of grief, loss joined by sorrow hanging around the cemetery was quite...heart-breaking. It had taken me many minutes not to mention the questions I had to ask to find the frigging cemetery. Only to arrive to a bunch of people dressed in black crying their eyeballs out. So not cool, yeah, Daniel had died, it was sad but you didn’t need to get all puffy and cry! I wanted to desperately dig my hands in my pockets but unfortunately my pants had no pockets. Gosh, I was such an idiot. Now everyone was looking at me wondering why I wasn’t crying. Of course, being an actor I quickly let fake sobs burst out of my chest. Happy sighs all around me after I cried. Apparently they were totally oblivious to me faking it as much as a chimpanzee likes bananas! Some people were just so stupid it made me laugh. Naturally I was good at hiding this. I threw my little innocent lily in the hole which the piano black coffin had just been lowered. Pretending I couldn’t take anymore I walked off the scene. I was cold, yes, but you know, who cares?

A rustle of leaves. A whoosh of wind. A noise downstairs. It woke me up alright. I grabbed my illegally owned gun from my hidden vault behind the painting, typical film stuff but come on, I am an actor you know. I cracked my knuckles, cocked my gun, rapidly attaching the silencer before slipping downstairs. My bare feet made no noise on the soft warm carpet that covered my floors. It reckoned it was cold outside since frost was glazing over my glass doors. I was just wearing some boxers since my room was always boiling, I didn’t feel the need to put on my air-conditioner. There she was. Death. Sitting in my white leather chair! Not to say Death wasn’t beautiful, she was truly mouth-watering, especially when she rose to her feet. I estimated she was around the five foot, 3 inches and take or give a few inches. Her pretty heels matched her dress. Her hair. It fell down in a cascade of a golden waterfall reaching the middle of her ribcage, just below her breast. A smirk formed on her face and my blood ran cold. My green eyes widened as the grin contained fangs. Actual fangs. To make matters worse I could not aim nor concentrate. Her smell. It was intoxicating, he’d smelled women’s perfume on many, many women before but no other like this, it was enchanting, intoxicating. Taking in a huge breath I closed my eyes as she kissed my lips. Darkness came over me and I was gone. Was I dead or not? I know not.