Half Dead, Half Dieing

Meet the main character, a sixteen year old high school girl. Mercy has a normal life, with normal complications. The only thing not so normal in her life, is that she isn't totally human. Having a vampire she has never met as a father, and a eccentric artist as a mother, makes her a Dhamphir. What that word means to her and the people around her will only start to make sense when she joins a school with vampires as students.

Chapter I – Decisions Dont Have To Be Difficult


I paused in front of my new home with a peculiar mix of dark and light emotions, the suitcase in my hand starting to feel like dead weight already. Funny enough, on the dark side it was that sort of happy-go-lucky, everything is so peachy it makes you sick twice over, type of neighbourhood. Not to mention I had already received two delighted waves from neighbours, as they collected the morning news from white post boxes on traditional red stands.

On the light and good side, it was only November and snow was starting to settle on the paths, the white fluff balls falling endlessly from the white sky like feathers. I loved snow, but then again what teenager in their right mind didn’t.

I glanced behind me long enough to see my mother directing her suitcase up the slushy path, as if it weighted a ton. Well, considering the amount of rubbish she had stuffed inside the bargain case, it wouldn’t surprise me. The zip looked more than ready to pop. I sighed and walked up to the porch door, which was a deep red colour that contrasted with the garage and white walls. The garden wasn’t exactly groomed, but not bad enough to deserve hate mail in this well manicured road of people too stuck in their own perfect lives to care. When my mother finally manoeuvred her case into the unbearably small porch and surfaced a collection of shiny keys, my ears were already red from the cold. My mother was known in my mind and many others for a lack of efficiency, or maybe common sense is more accurate when she calls her daughter in the middle of lessons, earning her a detention. It was also that lack of common sense which meant she hadn’t even given me pictures of what the house was going to be like, so I had been biting my nails the whole way here.

I pulled my mind back to the present and stepped through the front door onto laminated flooring. The first thought I had was; it’s not too bad. The hallway was painted a clean white, accented by contemporary paintings and potted plants, and was well lit by the French windows at the far end of it, where the kitchen-living room hybrid started. Stairs were leading up to the second floor to the right of us as we walked forward into the large open space. To my greatest pleasure there was an electric cooker; I hated the gas ones, and the counter tops were made of granite and unbelievably shiny. The living room was large yet still comfy looking, with an antique looking fireplace and peach walls.

I could see myself living there; a chilled family of daughter and mother, with no need for space of clutter. I couldn’t make any final judgments though, as big cardboard boxes were packed into the corner, with more to come tomorrow morning. I cringed at the thought of my mother’s eccentric work cluttering the wide open space that was currently available. My mother is an artist, with an overly thinking-outside-of-the-box mind, even for someone of her profession. She wasn’t anything big time, but we had enough from her job, and savings in the bank to keep us living pretty comfortably. Well, comfortably as long as you don’t break a vital bone in your skeletal system by tripping over countless sculptures and paintings. I wasn’t going to let her take over the house this time, even if it killed me.

During my scrutiny of the surrounding fixtures, my mother had been chattering on like a squirrel, and hacking at the boxes to get to the bubble-wrapped contents inside. Patience was another thing she greatly lacked. “I think these walls need a little touch up, they are so plain it’s unbelievable.” Warning signs went off in my head. The last time I had let her ‘touch up’ my room, I had returned much to my disdain, to find it pink with yellow stripes.

“If I so much as see one atom of whiteness disturbed, I will throw away all your paints and burn those pretty little sculptures.” I said, with violence in mind.

That earned me a glare, but I rightfully returned it. “Fine, Ms Moody. I suppose you want to know which room is yours to go promptly strip it bare. Three doors down from the top of the stairs, on the left of the bathroom.” I rolled my eyes and departed from the room of ripped cardboard and crazy artists.

The stairs creaked lightly under my weight and the roof was a bit low for my just above average height, but the upstairs seemed as light and homely as the downstairs. I found my room with little trouble and swung open the door with a stiff face. It revealed a spacious square room with the same white walls as the rest of the house, but crimson carpet instead of laminated wood. The furniture was a dark brown, almost black, and a big mirror covered what I guessed was a wall length wardrobe. In the centre was a large double bed with a white duvet and a red valance. I paused; did I pick the wrong room?

A quick scan of the other rooms revealed a guest room, bathroom and another master bedroom almost identical to this one. It seemed I was going to like my new and improved bedroom. I wasn’t letting my mom or her questionable inventions anywhere near this room either.

Unpacking my meagre assembly of clothes and personal stuff took a grand total of fifteen minutes. I was in need of a good shop, to say the least. The room’s vast storage capacity was in no way stretched, and once finished I lay down on my bed feeling settled and content. I breathed in the smell of fresh air and looked out the window at the darkening day. I had always loved the idea that the stretch of sky you looked at was probably also observed by thousands of other people just like you. With normal families, normal jobs, normal schools and normal days. Well, we may be slightly different than your average four people family, but you wouldn’t see me moaning. I hated the thought of having to share my life with another sibling that poked their nose in everything you did and gets you into trouble. I shouldn’t have to worry about any new arrivals though, considering my mother didn’t even have a boyfriend anymore. Hence the move; she had found out he was cheating on her, so she decided to run, to put it blandly. My mother had never been good with choosing a boyfriend, she had me at the age of seventeen and her boyfriend left her shortly after. The typical hit and run boyfriend. She had then been thrown out of the house to fend for herself, luckily she had a job, savings and was given benefits, but for a seventeen year old, it was very hard. Since then she hasn’t even found a boyfriend that lasted more than six months, and the holder of that record was the one who had recently cheated on her. Oh and did I mention that her hit and run boyfriend, my father, was a vampire?

Yes, a vampire. Only recently turned, unfortunately for me and my mom he had still been able to make a bouncing baby Dhamphir–me. Not that common in a world where Vampires are still hitting the screens and making best sellers in shops–as fiction that is. I had the feeling that the way things were, vampires were not going to stay as fiction to the public for much longer.

I had learned of their existence the hard way; and I was still learning. I found out I was some weird half-un-human being when my mother told me at the age of fifteen. As you can expect I was shocked, and beyond that, horrified. I didn’t even want to think about it, so as soon as it blew over I went into denial. My mother had found out some things about my ‘condition’ –god knows how–, and what she uncovered was that at any time during puberty I was going to physically and mentally ‘change’. Now at sixteen years old, I was still waiting for ‘the change’ to happen. The result thereafter varies from Dhamphir to Dhamphir; some are even more powerful than vampires, while others just get baby fangs and can see in the dark. The facts were also similar to the myths; Dhamphirs are extremely adept to killing Vampires. That had scared the hell out of me even more, but considering I was already sixteen, and nearly seventeen, maybe I was one of those who didn’t change much. Though, other than not being ill for as long as I could remember, nothing unusual came to mind.

The snow outside started to increase and I wondered idly if it would settle for my first day at school. That would be interesting. The school I was going to was old, but a well known school in the area. My mother had picked it out and I knew next to nothing about it, other than it was called South Trinity High. I thought that was rather weird, considering there was no place called Trinity near here, in any direction.

About fifteen minutes later my mother called me down for a meagre helping of fish and chips, as that was all our almost non-existent food supply could cough up. We sat in the living room without chairs or a table, watching the TV in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, just a ‘we have a lot to think about’ silence. It was somehow cosy with the cold wind and snow outside, but our warm fire flickering inside.

The End

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