"Are you sure about this, Almie?" My good friend and servant, Mally asks, her black hair falling over her face. I laugh. My laugh is a song in its own right, in fact, some poor human wrote a song about it... Before my (now deceased) mate ate - or rather drank - him.
"Of course, I'm dying - metaphorically speaking, of course - to see the human world once more... Plus, I can't wait to see what pries on their pitiful minds these days..." I smirk into the distance, watching the morning sun glisten over the lake.
You see, it's hard being a vampire, living by these strict rules and regulations can be extremely tedious. We vampires live by what seems to be tighter regulations than most, we're not allowed to drink any 'important' people in power, or anyone making a change for the 'greater good' - as if that's ever helped us. We're also not allowed to kill in the hotspots, which is where I'm going to school.
Most vampires die after two thousand years at the least, unless you're the Head of the vampire council. Like me. We can live forever - providing that we don't get murdered or executed by the highest council.
I step closer to the huge windows, my reflection gleams through to it - yes, we vampires can see our reflections and walk in daylight - my transparent pale skin marks my outline. My thick auburn hair is tied in a simple knot, the 'pony tail' part hanging to the middle of my back (which is a change from it being by my slender hips). One of my lean hand reaches up and touches my eternally youthful face, it's ice cold to touch, but it has a pink tinge to the tops of my cheeks.
As the Head, I was born a vampire - the last queen had me, but was murdered by her mate, who in turn was executed, what a beginning. I aged quickly, getting through my childhood in less than half a decade; the oolder Vampire Council did try to teach me to follow them, to be... Manipulated. I wouldn't have it then, and I certainly wouldn't have it now.
I turn to my old friend, who's now one and a half thousand years old. She originates from Egypt; it only shows in her eyes and hair now. She refuses to believe that she is close to death, as do I.
"So then, dear," she says in the typical mother voice she has, "Ready for school? I've packed your things... I hope you are not going in that!" Her voice switches to a concerned parent's voice now.
I gasp, playing along. "Whatever do you mean, Mother? Surely, I'm allowed to wear whatever I like. This is a free country you know."
"That it may be," She continues as her Son - my bodyguard - enters. "But, that does not mean to say that you can wear a pleated mini-skirt, tight blouse and waistcoat... are you wearing a push-up bra?"
A red tide rushes to my cheeks, "I... am not... wearing a... push-up bra!!" I exclaim in short gasps. She and her son Marcus burst into laughter. I growl, What great respect you get from your peers, 'Ma'am'. The voice says in my head.
Shut up. I click my metal boot ends together, like Dorothy in that movie. I gulp down my embarrassment, "Are you ready to go, Marcus?"
He stops laughing, turning into bodyguard mode, he is like a brother to me, as he's fifty years older and we'd grown up up around each other. He, like me, looks eighteen so we can stay in each other’s classes - just in case.
"Bye, Ma," he kisses Mally. I smile sadly. 'The day you have children, is the day you die.' The dream had said the say I turned eighteen and stopped changing.
"Bye dear," she whispers back, her fragility showing.
"Are you going to be, okay Mally?" I ask, my voice full of concern, this woman practically raised me from birth, so I know her and Marcus very well.
"Yes dear, now don't be late. I want to hear all about your day when you get back," she winks. I hug her just before we leave; we yell good-bye walking out of the front door.
"Ready to go, Little Sister?" Marcus asks, pulling out his special motorcycle, it turns us invisible as we ride - or fly in this case.
"Of course, Big Brother," I pull one long leg over the backend of the bike, looping my arms around his stomach as he drives.