Zoe Katsaros

AUTOMATIC 14

Jane Bruno

The world ached in ways it could only do when morality decided to crash through the window like a baseball bat swinging its way to a new world record. So often would it break and bend over the course of time, a tidal wave colliding into the twisted fragments of life that seemed to break off into little bits and tangents that could paint the world black and red. Blend, it all would, each little shade shifting so gently into the next, as though there was never a difference between them at all. Discord would wind through the body as one became something new, something different.

Jane was different. Not in the Tumblr way, where being different meant something positive and good, but in the horror movie different way, in which she'd just become the guy carrying an ax to the supermarket.

She walked back into that house she had entered earlier, her mind still blank thinking about it. As much as she wanted to erase having met with those monsters it would not leave her—no, they were very much real. As was she. Blood pumped through her veins in ways it had never before. Every sense was sharpened—sounds were broader, smells were sharper, and everything felt as though there were more of it. With those overload of senses came the fear, the pain, as though everything was intensified. She longed for the world of before, where the worst thing to happen was Monica.

Monica.

It hadn't occurred to her in over a day to check upon her sister. No, instead Jane had gone to a meeting and learned of her vampirism. Afterwards, she'd gone to her job, having convinced herself it was nothing but a nightmare...only nightmares were real, and she wasn't the loyal heroine living a life of sassy come-backs and fighting. No, Jane was the anti-hero, the bad guy who was trying, the person who would inevitably die in the end. Death, the welcoming widow to the poor, the kiss of freedom to the pained, and the laughter to the sick and sick of heart.

For once, death would not welcome her. Instead, it rejected her. With that in mind, her body walked back to the house. To that house. Where the coven lived, where the clan lived, whatever it was called. Eugene walked with her, his hand on her back, coaxing her in ways only he ever seemed able to do. Their feet fell in rhythm as they walked, his shoes louder than hers, his body bigger than hers, and she fitting perfectly into his side. It was comforting, having his presence there, just as it had been in ages past. Anytime she found herself too drunk and throwing up, he'd lead her to the bathroom and tie her hair back before he left. Eugene may have been a sassy, unruly, rude guy, but he was there and that's all that mattered. Friendship like theirs was true.

If only the world she found herself in could be as well.

"Caroline is dying," Gareth said to them as they entered the house. His body hunched over, eyes dead set on the floor, everything falling apart. "She's not going to make it." There was anger in his soul—it was in the way he spoke, each word a shout and yet a whisper, the vibrations causing the world about him to shift and morph. It was all an illusion of pain and hatred. Pain and hatred at what, however, was yet to come to light.

The house was fairly large, furnished, but it was dark. A heavy presence lingered in the air. One would expect cobwebs to hang from obtuse places, spiders to be scurrying across the floor back to them, and the sounds of screaming from ages long gone to grace the ceiling with their fragrances of death. The sounds would be delightful to some and horror to others. Laceration and incineration, everything a good coven seemed to need. But no, that was not the house at all. The house wasn't some horror movie. Things weren't perfectly evil and grotesque.

Somehow, that was even worse.

"Go on, do what you want now."

Words were just letters arranged to mean something more than what they were. Words were the both unspoken and spoken. For once, Jane could listen in the silence to hear the words that were not said, but meant to be. The feelings attached were greater than she'd ever known before. It'd gone from something made up to something whole, and in that wholeness was a likeness to herself she'd never seen before. In those words were whispers of what she was. They were whispers of what they all were.

Eugene's hand weighed down heavily upon her shoulders, his voice hot in her ear as he leaned down to talk to her. "Do you feel that?"

She shook her head, ignoring it.

"Don't lie, Jane. You're as bad a liar as you are a drunk."

Normally, she would have scoffed at that and insulted him back. Normal wasn't applied anymore. Instead, she just leaned back into the cold presence of a man who she barely knew but thought she did. Strangers who met in a bar, told little about themselves, only their drinks, simple matters, and yet they were friends. Don't leave me just yet. I need someone from the normal world to help me get back there.

Though he seemed to accept and love his new self she knew that he could be convinced. Together.Together, they could find a way to turn back. He certainly couldn't want to stay that way forever—god, it chilled her just to imagine that lonely life.

"Follow me," he told her, and she listened. Eugene seemed to have a handle on everything, as though he'd been waiting for something to happen for the last few years. It would make sense, in a way, for him to enjoy this. He was a bartender, but under that, he seemed to hate himself at times, though it always seemed in passing and in joke. Why is he so okay with this? Did they mind control him? Can vampires really do that?

All the new-bloods seemed to congregate into her room, as though listening to the dying was the best thing to do. Jane couldn't deny the way her body shook as the woman's did, or how her legs trembled, her heart raced, and she grew anxious just looking at the picture-perfect form of death.

I hope she dies, Jane thought, the poisonous words ricocheting throughout her. It's her fault—this woman has to be the leader. She's the reason they turned me. I hope she dies. I hope everyone here dies. They deserve it. I deserve it.

"This," Caroline whispered. It was broken off by a cough that rose from hell and stopped in every mud pit along the way, taking with it the wet, sloppy madness of a world set on fire. "This is the end." Caroline's words seemed to hold a forbearance that could touch the sky.

Her next words hit empty air. "Who would trade their life for mine? If you do, I'll live."

I won't. I hope she dies, Jane thought again. She shook her head, stepping backwards just a little bit. The little bit became more and more until she was nearly backed out of the room, only to be stopped by Eugene, who held tightly to her wrist.

"Don't leave."

Dramatic much? Despite her thoughts Jane understood. This is the end.

Screams burst through the room. One person collapsed against the ground, holding their head, and another hit the wall with their fist, eyes filled with tears. Inside, an uneasiness set in, cutting through the air and shifting through old skin to reach the body.

More than the breaking of bones, more than anything one could feel outside their body, it was pain. Not the scrape of a knee or splinter of the hand, it was the driving of a stake through a heart and the seeping of wisteria through empty veins. Spikes of metal broke through skin, it wrapped around the bones in her forearms and shattered them. It was pain inside her chest. Dimly, she felt something wet and sticky draining down her. Sweat, blood, it didn't matter. It could've been anything. Her lungs burst, liquid dripping down inside them as they struggled to gain air.

Each second was falling apart-

her mind ripped in two-

everything was lost.

There they were dying

their voices lost

too much happening

too little to stop it

tears of blood and bodies of broken bones

innocence and darkness kissed and

death

laughed.

Lost, gone, those words were nothing compared to what it really was. Words could not describe the event. They could say what happened, but they couldn't feel what she felt. It was inside her, eating away, her mind screaming while her body succumbed to a power higher than she'd ever known. Back arching, lips parting, she looked around in a daze at a world that didn't make sense. Colors swirled and ditzed around until nothing was real, nothing was alive. It was tangible only in the way that a painting was. It seemed real, but realness was a concept, and this was not it.

The coven is dying.

Jane would do anything to take back her hatred. In that moment, she felt what Caroline had meant. She understood. Life was so much more than just being alive. This was bigger than her, this was something wholly new. Caroline had been the reason she'd changed, Caroline had been the reason that happened, and yet at her death, Caroline was human in ways more terrible than known. The aching, the groaning, the way her body writhed about...

This is the end.

Shivers of ice ran down her spine like the drops of a snow-cone. It slithered and wiggled down as her blood pulsed, each strike of her heart growing faster and faster.

Thoughts of her own overruled those, they collided into a whirlpool and screamed. Distance and time seemed irrelevant as she fell to the ground. It rushed to meet her, blurring as it went.

I'm dying

this

is

the end

this is all

there's nothing left of me now.

And there, in-between it all, was the last person she saw before her eyes closed and her body ceased to move against the cold concrete. Someone who's name left her lips like a butterfly, moving freely amidst it all, soft like velvet and hotter than hell's own fire.

We're gone, Eugene.

Adria Fuerte

AUTOMATIC 14

Blythe Sullivan

AUTOMATIC 14

Rachel Winters

NO ENTRY

Amelia "Amy" Linox

NO ENTRY

Eden Adriett Paloma

NO ENTRY