by Rose Fowler
17yo Jaime was turned in 1996. Now he searches for everlasting love, easier said than done
Have you heard about the bloody massacre in a little town called Strawberry Hills? It's in northern California. No? What you probably remember is seeing the headlines about a fire that took out half the gated community of Timber Creek.
Yes, a fire there was. That fire was me as a freshly turned 17 year old powerhouse of a vampire. Timber Creek had 110 homes, 68 year round resident households and 42 vacation rentals. The day that my neighborhood caught fire was the day I tore through 27 throats at a house party in the summer of 1996.
My older brother Adrian and a handful of others made it out alive. Within 20 minutes of my feeding frenzy 27 Strawberry Hill Senior High grads were slaughtered and my transition was complete.
After 30 minutes I realized what I had done and torched the house. 11 people made it out and before they could leave Timber Creek they believed they escaped from a house fire.
The vampire that turned me was long gone. She was a siren on a warpath, turning anyone she felt like just for the fun of it. I don't remember that night much. I only remember her golden hair and amber gaze. It feels like a bad wet dream.
The vampire that saved me lives in Timber Creek right under our noses. He has a family, whom are compelled to believe that he is a normal husband and father who sells real estate, roots for the 49ers and watches his sons football games. Everyone knows him and everyone likes him. My best friend's father saved me.
Brad Horner of the Horner Realty Group looked 45 when his son Gabe and I were 17. When he was supposed to be 55 he "divorced" his wife, compelled her a new husband and left Strawberry Hills. He was my mentor through my first 2 years as a vampire.
The fire of Timber Creek took out 48 houses and made the national news. It was a dry and hot summer in a heavily wooded area. Only 1 house was supposed to burn. I guess you could say I screwed up big time. Luckily the half of the neighborhood that Gabe and I lived in was unscathed.
Only Brad Horner and I know what really happened that night. He had been watching me, suspecting that I was in transition. Brad only knew about me. No one was allowed in his house. Gabe and I only ever went to my house. The most I saw of Brad was when I knocked on his door to hang out with Gabe.
Brad started to watch me after I disappeared for a night two weeks before "the fire". My mom filed a missing persons report the night that I was supposed to come after coincidentally seeing the movie From Dusk Til Dawn. When I came home at 4am that night I had told her that I'd been mugged behind the theater. I had no idea that I'd basically been eaten alive then turned and left to figure this out on my own.
The next two weeks felt like the worst flu ever. Everything I ate I vomited up. Everything I drank I vomited up. I went to the ER after 2 days of that and they sent us home and told us, "It just has to run it's course." I was weak, I was tired and I was losing my mind. Then I snapped. I left my house and walked until I found the party.
Brad had known that I was sick and saw me walk passed his house. He didn't leave until he heard distant screams. Once the first drops of blood coursed through my veins I was unstoppable. I drained person after person until Brad stopped me. He went after the survivors and I set fire to the house. The end result was the biggest tragedy that the little town of Strawberry Hill had ever seen to date.
More to come!