This is my final draft of my 'Original Writing' coursework for GCSE Engligh Language, where I was asked to write a short horror story (min 500 wds) with a twist at the end. Although, it isn't really that scary, but the ending is kind of graphic (just to pre-warn you), but not overly so. I just thought I'd post it on here to see if it's any good. I hope you enjoy reading this and I would love any thoughts that you may have & I would also love you to tell me what grade you would give me for this (: But I'm going to ask (I never say this) for no detailed critiques, as I want this to remain much my own work, but I would still love to hear your thoughts. Anyway, on with the story!

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Silence: slowly I looked up at the neglected old house, a nice smell assaulted my nostrils. I was curious as to how I got there. I could not remember. I took a quick step towards the rusted metal gate, brushing my fingertips lightly over the rough edges. I was now impatient, wanting to get closer to the derelict house and the mouth-watering scent that tantalized me. It was too much.

Not even knowing how I got there, I was soon standing in front of the eerie house, my alabaster hand outstretched. My hand fell limply to my side: I didn’t know what to do. Was the door open?

Cautiously, I walked up the stone steps and stood in front of the wooden door; the black paint peeled away at the edges, through months of neglect and storms. Hesitantly, I placed my hand upon the door. It felt fragile under my touch. I pushed on it lightly: it didn’t open. My eager hands placed themselves on the fragile wooden door (the inky paint contrasted strangely with my ivory skin) and I pushed with all my force.

The foreboding door fell to the floor with a resounding crash. A blood curdling shriek sounded somewhere above me. I stepped into the house, my bare toes curling in protest from the cold stone floor and inquisitively, I titled my head towards the sound of the high-pitched screaming. It intrigued me. The shrill screaming stopped abruptly. Frowning, I wondered why had it stopped? The silence was now pressing down upon me. I needed to find this anonymous person.

I looked towards the mysterious, majestic staircase twisting precipitously upwards and around into the enigmatic unknown. I took three graceful steps towards the imposing stairway, readily sniffing the scent of the moist air around me. That delectable scent was even stronger here, making my dried out mouth water and my steps quicken. I had to get a taste of that glorious smell.

Darting up the luxuriously carpeted staircase, I came to an immediate halt on the top stair. Involuntarily, I squinted slightly to see in the shadowy darkness. The gloomy landing was sinister looking, creaming out to all that it should not be entered: it should remain untouched.

The enticing scent was now thick in the air around me, taunting me. Frantically, I looked upon the three closed doors in front of me. Which one should I go into? I walked warily towards the middle door opposite me, the scent in the air urging me on. Without warning, I was in front of the door. My trembling hands grasped uncertainly upon the brass doorknob. I turned it. It was unlocked.

Pushing on the blistered wooden door, I crouched defensively, ready to protect myself (if it was needed). The door swung open slowly, as though teasing me. Impatiently, I waited in the doorway, the delicious smell potent in the air. The door was now fully open.

Something was in the centre of the dimly lit and unfurnished room. It looked like a mangled heap of dishcloths. Puzzled, I moved vigilantly into the room, wanting to inspect this unknown thing laid out ungainly on the carpeted floor. The heap shifted.

Gasping silently, I froze where I stood. Instantaneously I realised that the distorted heap was human. To be precise, it was the exact human I had heard screaming. It was easy to divulge; its heartbeat was frantic sounding. The human was frightened.

Walking fully into the room, I strode over to the person cowering on the floor. I placed my frosty fingertips upon its shoulder: she shivered at my icy touch. Her frightened face looked back at me – her emerald green eyes ablaze with dread. It was as though she knew what I was.

Ignoring her terrified expression, my scarlet eyes locked upon her bare neck and the thick vein which pulsed heavily with blood and adrenaline. The scent was now stronger than ever. Bloodlust took over me and my glacial fingertips grabbed either side of her neck. My razor sharp, sparkling white teeth bit down, relishing the thick vein; warm blood gushed into my frozen mouth, thawing it out. One taste wouldn’t be enough. Hot liquid blistered my mouth; I relished the taste of it.

Her body twitched and struggled uselessly beneath me. I tightened my grip on her nonetheless. Soon, her pathetically weak body became limp – dead. I had drained her, not only of blood, but of life as well.

I straightened up and looked at the girl, who lay dead in front of me. She was pretty. She looked strangely vulnerable laying there, her thick brown locks in disarray around her heart shaped face.

I turned my back on the haunting image; I would not feel guilty. It wasn’t my fault I was a vampire.