Omega Resurrected:Fated to the Vampire

By: Wolf Specter


“Keagan,” screamed a voice from downstairs below. “I hope you are working on your final draft and not goofing around up there.”

The voice was his mother’s. She knew Keagan all-too-well.

He stared at the blank screen, wishing the words would just appear before him so he didn’t have to do any real work. He was tired, but from what, he couldn’t be sure. Today had been the same as any other school day. It was rather boring, and he supposed that it was at least one reason he felt so drained.

The sky out his window had turned into a dreary wisp of charcoal-gray clouds swirling around one another. Rain pelted his window like heavy rocks being tossed around by a gang of young boys. His window rattled as the rain turned to hail, and he moaned. Such a nasty day deserved nothing more than a soft pillow and a warm blanket to wrap around him. Homework should not be a requirement for the day, yet here it was.

The blank document sat taunting him through the computer screen. He’d put it off all week, but now the due date was creeping up on him, and if he didn’t finish it tonight, there was no way his parents would let him leave the house over the weekend. He had no choice but to sit on his desk chair with the back that sat uncomfortably straight behind him. No choice but to spend the rest of the night working on the paper that could mean the difference between passing and failing English Literature 101. Adding another semester of his freshmen year was definitely not on his to-do list, so he leaned forward and started typing.

He felt like he’d been typing for hours as he leaned back and glanced at the words. He hadn’t gotten in even a full page yet. He groaned just as the repetitive thumping of his phone vibrating stirred him from his agony. He knew he should ignore it. Knew that to pick up that phone would mean the end of the daunting homework and that he’d regret it later on.

He scooped it up anyway, sliding his finger across the screen to find a text from his latest crush, Jason. He’d been giving him the runaround for weeks, and to his pleasure, he’d chased. He liked him, but he didn’t want him to think that it was going to be easy, so he’d played a few games, kept him at a distance, led him this way and that, and now, it was about time to reel him in.

What u doin?

He put the phone back on the desk and returned to his work. He looked at the desktop clock and saw that it was only a little after five. He’d give him fifteen minutes or so to sweat it out and then he’d get back to him. He tried to focus, but who was he kidding? He’d rush through it before bed, just as he always did. Doing just enough to get by and get that passing grade he needed.

He snatched the phone and collapsed on his bed, his sculpted arms falling loosely across a stack of pillows. A couple fell to the floor, but he didn’t reach for them. He swiped the touch screen again and reread the message.

What to say? He knew that if he continued with his vague answers and keeping him at arms’ length, that he’d eventually lose interest.

Just bored.

Simple. It would let him know he was available but he didn’t seem desperate, either. He took the bait.

Fire @ Lagoon Park. Everyone will be there. You going?

He looked up from the phone to the hauntingly dark computer screen. It had gone into sleep mode, but he knew if he went over and woke it up, that his half-finished report would be staring at him, condemning him for abandoning it.

Why’d he have to do it anyway? Dr. King had never been his favorite professor, and Keagan was sure that the woman had it out for him. He’d tried, really tried, but it seemed that Dr. King was always deducting points from his essays, correcting the grammar on his test answers, or flat out refusing to accept an assignment from Keagan, simply because the book he’d chosen to do his report on hadn’t been on the reading list.

That month had been Shakespeare month, and really, who could understand Shakespeare? He couldn’t very well do a report on something he couldn’t even comprehend, and he thought Dr. King would be glad to see that Keagan had made as much of an effort as he had, but instead, he’d been rewarded with a fat zero. Very unfair. Yes, Dr. King definitely had it out for him, and Keagan knew that this report would be no different than the others, so why even bother?

Nope, it wasn’t a priority. He dug through his closet, shoving the central clothing to one side and reaching towards the back. He snatched a brand new shirt from the furthest shadows and out of his mom’s sights and tossed it onto the bed. It was hunter green and was the most expensive shirt he had ever purchased. The fit was perfect for his chest and showed off the body that he had been working so hard to sculpt.

He gently folded the shirt and stuffed it into his book bag. There was no way his parents would let his walk out of the house like that. It would be too obvious that he wasn’t going to only study looking like that. He tugged on his plain, brown leather cowboy boots over his jeans and ran down the stairs, jacket in one hand, book bag in the other.

He skirted around the kitchen doorway and leaned against the counter as his mom pulled a cookie sheet from the oven. Roasted potatoes sizzled on the metallic sheet, and Keagan’s stomach grumbled with hunger. “Can I go to Rachel’s to study?” he asked, ignoring the tugging of his stomach.

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