Hello! If you're new to this story, welcome, and if you're not-so-new, welcome back. I just want to let you know that this is not the story you remember. It has undergone drastic changes, and, in my opinion, is one thousand times better than the original. Having said that, happy reading, and I do hope you enjoy.


Far From Human

A vampire novel, by R.P. Evans


The Present

The laughter is high-pitched and cold, echoing off the walls and amplifying upon itself until that's all I can hear.


And no matter how tightly I press my hands to my ears—no matter how loudly I scream—nothing can drown out that horrible sound. I scream until my throat is too sore to take anymore and then my legs turn to jelly and I collapse to my knees.

I wonder vaguely if any of this is real—this place has played tricks on me before—or if it's just some horrible walking nightmare. But the body at my side, missing its fucking head, sure looks real. The hot blood soaking into my jeans sure feels real. And that goddamn laughter sounds real. Real, and frighteningly familiar.

I inhale a deep, shuddering breath and try to focus on something else, anything else besides that laughter. My eyes fall to the headless corpse beside me. I barely resist the urge to vomit.

Where did I go wrong? People are fucking dead, and it's all my fault. And now...

Now I'm going to die, too.

I can only hope that somewhere, someone is still breathing.

I can only hope that someone makes it out alive.

Because I'm sure as hell not going to.

But you can be sure of one thing.

If—when—I go down, I'm taking this cackling bitch with me.