This piece kinda fell out of my brain, and i'm not sure if it's any good or not. Any reviews would be really helpful because i'm trying to figure out whether or not i should scrap this piece or continue it. Oh, and if you're sick of reading vampire stories, you should probably turn back now.
He would be here every night. Or at least another spot like it; an alleyway that’s shaded away from the synthetic luminosity of grime-covered street lamps. He pressed his back against the remains of an old concrete building and impassively proceeded to light a cigarette. Click, click, click chirped his lighter as the orange flame flickered on and off fruitlessly. After a few tries it lit, and he was content.
He spent the next few minutes gulping in the toxic fumes, and when he decided he was finished, began to walk slowly back to his slum. He made a point to enjoy the fresh, clean spring air, but after a couple of whiffs he decided he had accumulated enough of the car and machine exhaust to make himself dizzy. He closed his eyes and imagined he was inhaling the fragrant, earthy perfume of rich soil. Then he blinked, looked up, and mentally cleared the smog out of the sky so that he could see the stars, poking out the nothingness of space, like someone had poked tiny little holes through the surface of the world…
It was the stars that he missed most in city life. He could hardly remember what they really looked like. Stars were just like little street lamps hanging far out in space; nothing special, nothing brilliant. But he missed them. He missed lying on his back in the earth, the smell of sweet Louisiana soil filling up his lungs. Way back then he was just a child, but he still remembered how he would sigh with content as the clean air ran through his lungs. He still remembered how it felt when he would thread his tiny fingers through the cool grass, and how he would stare up at the sky with wide eyes; at the deep, vast void, and feel like the only one in the world.
He supposed that not many people liked that feeling; being alone. He assumed that’s why there’s so many people here in Los Angeles. But to him, this place could never be home. Under those stars was the only place he‘d ever belong. And that’s why tomorrow he was ditching this this town and catching a train back to Louisiana. His mother would not be there anymore, but if the clear country air couldn’t sort him out, he was sure that nothing would. He had cleaned out his entire bank account on this ticket, and was determined to finally flip to a new page in his life.
He reached his current residence after a few minutes. It was an old, dilapidated hotel that had gone out business quite some time ago. It certainly wasn’t the kind of place you could ever call home, but it served his basic needs. And putting aside the putrid smell that hung about the place like a thick fog, and the minor infestation of rats, it wasn’t the worst place in the city to crash. His neighbors were quiet; they were mostly squatters like him and kept to themselves. Also, the cops didn’t seem to bother coming down here, which was another added plus.
Though as he came near the building, he couldn’t help feeling that something wasn’t quite right about the motel tonight. It was strangely quiet, and the smell of something foreign wafted to his senses; strong enough of an odor to supersede the usual scent of rotting garbage and urine. As he approached his door, the scent became stronger. It was metallic, like pennies. He turned the doorknob and stepped in, keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of the usual. Suddenly, through the thin wall of his room he heard a peculiar sound; something that sounded too similar to a muffled scream to be ignored. Rushing back outside, he flung open the door of the apartment next to his and came upon a horrific sight.
Blood decorated all four corners of the room; splattered grotesquely on the walls, and in ruby red pools on the floor. A woman was being held upright by a man, her throat ripped out, and eyes wide open in a deathly stare. The man’s mouth was attached to the wound, and was drinking fervently from her neck, clinging to her body as if he was clinging on to life.
Immediately, he started vomiting. The smell of blood was unbearable now, making all his senses feel sick. The beast brought its head up and stared at the intruder, letting loose an angry snarl. It dropped the woman’s body, letting it fall to the floor with a limp, lifeless thud.
Paralyzed with fear, he stood still as the beast lunged at him with terrifying speed, and sank its sharp fangs into his neck.
The thing smelt absolutely foul, and its breath was even worse. Its lips surrounded the softest part of his neck, as one of its sharpest fangs grazed his flesh and ripped open an artery. He howled with pain as his own warm blood oozed fervently from his neck and was devoured by the beast.
He used all his force to try to push the thing away from him, but his greatest efforts only amounted to a few seconds of freedom before it grabbed his arm and snapped it in two. A whole new set of pain nearly blacked him out. He cursed, desperately wishing that it had. The pain from his broken arm was unbearable.
He felt paralyzed again; from fear, from pain, and from shock. Even as all this was going on, two different thoughts passed through his mind at nearly the same time. The first was an aching feeling that this was the end of him. That he was going to die tonight and never amount to anything. That he was never going to make it back to Louisiana; never have that opportunity to start over.
The second feeling was telling him to hold on to life. He knew in the back of his mind that if he let go of his consciousness now, he would never wake up. By the freak chance the beast wouldn’t kill him tonight, if he were to black out now, his blood loss would be too great and he would be drained before he had the chance to wake up.
The thing was drinking him quickly though, and he still couldn’t find the strength in himself to move. His good arm flailed at his side, while his other hung at an irregular, crooked angle; completely useless. He was unable to move his head, with it being so painfully connected to his injured neck, and his legs trembled uncontrollably. However much he tried to fight it, he was losing consciousness with every second. His senses faded to the point where the only thing he could feel was his heart thumping slowly inside his chest. His body was going cold, and numb.
Then the beast did the strangest thing. Using one of its yellow nails, it slashed open the wrist of it’s other hand.
“Drink,” the creature growled.
It didn’t need to tell him twice. The smell of its blood was intoxicating, and he couldn’t have resisted from drinking it if he tried. The hot, sticky fluid was like an incredible elixir, and with every swallow his senses became more acute than he had ever thought possible. The trembling in his legs ceased to quiver, his arm no longer felt any pain. His heart no longer knew any fear. He felt invincible.
Then suddenly he remembered who he was. He choked on his last gulp of blood, and shoved the beast away from him. The once-powerful monster stumbled backwards from him a few steps, laughing.
“What?…Did you do to me?” He gasped, staring with a horrified expression at his blood soaked hands, at his blood soaked body.
The thing continued to laugh, smiling wickedly at him through its yellowed, blood stained teeth.
“You’re one of us now.” It said, “Enjoy.”
And for the record, i still haven't read any book of the Twilight series, although right now I'm in the middle of Interview With The Vampire by Anne Rice. I guess that's why my brain felt like making a vampire story of my own.
), especially the vamp blood being (as you described it) an elixir.
) I'm not in the mood 
I love it.