The Undiscovered Evidence

The ship had no name. But was it unnamed? The crew did not speak. But were they voiceless? If someone would’ve seen it in water, it must have been too late to know the mysteries behind the scene, but would it have been too late to save them?

I read all the articles written about the devastating incident that had happened just two days ago. A cruise travelling to Puerto Rico disappeared. But just after an hour when the waters were searched, no remains of the ship had been found. So the cruise didn’t just disappear. It vanished. As if concealed under a cloaking spell. A mysterious enchantment. But all that I let myself wonder was that if the emergency call for help to save themselves was made in that fraction of a minute before they could drown and knew were in danger, why was the investigation made after an hour? After all, the crew captain only had to push four buttons and dial a missed call at the least.

It was when my coffee pot got drained of liquid that I looked up to the black-framed metal clock. It was some three hours past midnight. Having read every article ever written and all available database of the investigations, I knew one thing for sure – it was all false. It had too many loopholes to be true and I wanted to know the real truth, no matter how harsh, at any cost. The truth which comes from investigating the so-called truth and not accepting it under all circumstances. It’s all under the government after all. You never know what has actually happened. We live in a world where even an accident could be a setup, staged just perfectly enough with the accurate props and stage setting. I knew there was only one thing I could do if I wanted to unveil the masks and find the matter behind the curtains. I spent the remaining energy of the coffee I had finished in gearing up for my impromptu voyage tomorrow.

My ship had been travelling for quite a while. My phone still had a connection. I was going through my list of possible theories when all of a sudden my phone lost network. I checked the map. I was just about to reach Puerto Rico. If the truth was in sight, it was very simple. It was just the waters and a shore in sight. But who knew I was to enter what future generations would call “The Bermuda Triangle”?

I sailed the ship towards the shore and saw a vague vision of an abandoned ship and its crew. I couldn’t see the name of the ship. I reached the shore.
They were all still alive.

Five years of professional experience and twenty-six of existential experience had prepared me to deal with shock quite well. I went up to one of the crew members for inquiry. I wanted to get every minuscule detail.
“Could you please help me with the reality of the incident? I am Detective Liza Richards, and I am just here to know what actually happened at the shores of Puerto Rico two days ago.”
“You want the truth?” asked a pearly-eyed man in a husky voice.
“Yes”, I mumbled.
They all roared in laughter. Never in my career had I come across somebody who found the idea of finding the sooth amusing.
“You’re the perfect example for irony. You come to seek the truth and converse with your suspects like they’re humans. Tell me, do you even ask them if they want to be recorded on the camera you’ve hidden in your cloth?”
I was startled, and if I would’ve allowed myself, scared.
“I think it would be better if we showed you the ‘truth’ instead”.
The last thing I remember was his husky voice turning into that of a beast and his teeth turning into fangs. He sprang upon me as he bit my neck. I wailed in pain. Was this a human or an animal? Or neither? My question was answered when I could see my blood trickling down to my wrist from my shoulders like a stream of a broken heart, with my heart rate slowly reducing and a suffocation enveloping me like an innocent prisoner.
He was a monster.
The truth rotted with the private investigator but there was no body found. But Liza’s story didn’t end as a mysterious death on the shores of Puerto Rico,
she became a crew member who never would be counted.
She disappeared, but she didn’t die.
Not really…

Vampire Art | Vampire art, Female vampire, Beautiful dark art


Hey Guys! This is my first try at writing a short story and yes, another vampire fiction. I had written a poem previously based on the same theme i.e. related to vampires, named The Bloodbath of Our Love, do check it out. The ending in this story is that Liza was turned into a vampire by the crew member. Since this is my first time writing a short story, your open and honest feedback would be really appreciated. I would really love to know your thoughts on this one!

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The Bloodbath of Our Love

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Photo Credits – Pinterest

Our silence is more of a distraction than our love,
My longing for you drains the pure blood from my veins,
As I stuff my mouth with
The letters you wrote me,
Trying to quench my thirst
With the dried ink,
But choke on the yellow pages instead.
Want to feel your love through these words,
But your passionate words,
Now feel like venom.

Intoxication.
Suffocated air.
Lacrimal streams,
Flowing red in despair.
Blood boiling.
Blur transition,
From lover to bloodsucking beast,
As the poison,
Consumes every corner of the body you deprive.

Stone-hearted love,
Freezing fingers,
Heightened senses,
A deadly desire.
A vicious vampire under a hood,
Looks above the opaque shadows,
Eyes widening,
I’ve slumbered too much.

Nerves embolden emerald green,
Now I see clearly,
I desire the blood of your body,
Intoxicated by our love.

I pounce on you,
A merciless carnivore,
I suck the sweet nectar,
From your bleeding neck.

Lips luminous red,
An ever-growing hunger,
Satisfied for the time being,
My throat is now not parched anymore,
My thirst for you is quenched.
As I slice your throat and make you bleed,
The way you slit my brain,
Into a deluded madness.

I lick my lips,
Only to fulfill my thirst.
Maybe when I’ll wake up tomorrow,
I will wail my pain into demonic lakes,
But if this little adventure frightens you, my holy love,
You will suffer worse,
For these weren’t your last breaths,
As I’ve condemned you,
To a fate worse than death,
For now you are gonna join,
My human hunting,
Embrace your being,
Of a nocturnal beast,
Thriving on mortal blood.
As we dive into utter insanity,
The deadly kiss,
Of immortality.


‘Ello guys! First of all, this is completely my imagination and doesn’t mean to demean any beliefs. So, this poem is about a human who is driven into such insanity by a toxic lover and misses him so much, that she tries to give herself hope by trying to feel the truth in the words of his handwritten letters by stuffing her mouth with them. However, this lover being toxic, had mixed poison into the ink, which makes her choke on the pages. Technically, she should have died, however the goodness in her heart and her innocence prevents her death and gives her a chance to re-start. She is now reborn a vampire and is rid of the delusion that this lover was truly in love with her. However, she is in transition and has a choice. To trigger vampirism, she must feed and if she doesn’t, she would die a human. She decides to accept immortality and kill the toxic lover to trigger this power. However, deep down she is well aware that simply seeking revenge won’t make her any different than the evil lover. She would be as evil as him. Hence, she gives him a second chance by cursing him with vampirism.

What I intend to portray is that while vampirism is seen as a curse, it is a blessing for some. While the toxic lover gets stuck with guilt, as for her, she finally starts to see clearly.  The aftermath of the poem has three different paths. One, that the lover chooses not to trigger the vampirism out of guilt, other, that the lover chooses to take his brutality to another level by replacing his activity of breaking hearts with removing them out of people, and the last one, though a bit hazy, is that he unknowingly triggers it and spends his eternal life seeking redemption. Either way, what I intend to say is that we always have a choice, and happiness is a choice.

You can either be stuck in the past and not find peace, or accept its pain and not let it define you.

Everyone has their own perspective and belief, and you must always remember that they are unique and your own no matter how unpopular or unaccepted. I speak of vampires as if they do exist. And they do, however the way they’re represented in movies and shows are only for entertainment purposes. I wrote this poem having completed The Originals, and I was so deeply immersed in that thrill, that I had to write this one.

To know about how actually vampires live in real life, read here, which is an interview with a real-life vampire, and this, to know about their lifestyle, and a study of the vampires in New Orleans. 

And also, one more thing that I intend to convey through this poem is that as much great it is to give a person a second chance, it is most essential to give yourself a chance, and to believe that no matter how much painful it is now, no matter how tough this situation is, something good always lies ahead, no matter how far away the distance from it. You just need to give yourself a chance and believe.


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