Curly golden-blonde locks tinged with a carrot-red bounce freely down the cracked side walk. Cold wind flows down the alley-ways touching everything in its path. A small smile plays across her thick lips as she clutches a red envelope to her chest to protect it from the wind’s clutches. Her grip doesn’t falter as she quickly ducts in and around the merchandise stalls.
The envelope was just a normal piece of paper, adorned with a wax stamp of approval in the shape of her Masters crest. (A black raven adorned with jewels.) She had been contracted to them for five long years. Being Seventeen now, her contract would come to an end right before camp would start. Camp Ouachita of Arkansas, a section of the ASC (Allied Supernatural Corp), would be her entrance to a better life.
No more bruises and scabs from giving blood every chance she got, and no more taking blood from crying children; who only wanted to get enough money for food. The homeless families would come in every opportunity to make enough money from the Blood Harvesting Factory to simply survive. The Varndell Factory was where she worked for her Master. It’s tall ceilings, sterile interior, and gray cement would make their way into her nightmares.
Lucas Varndell is a Vampire.
Lucas Varndell is her Master by Contract.
Lucas Varndell was the only reason she was alive.
Despite all that, she felt furious that she had to contract herself to anyone to survive. Most of the jobs left for Humans were Blood Factories, and they didn’t pay enough to keep a roof over your head.
Quickly, she moved away from a family dressed in rags that were coming out of the door to the Town Hall. This was where she would put her application in. Going up the stairs to the third floor, she was greeted by a small woman behind the desk. The top of her blonde hair was all you could see from behind the counter.
“Excuse me,” our Heroine asked, “Are you still taking applications for the Scholarship?”
The woman did not talk to her, and whether that was because the woman could not speak at all, or simply wouldn’t speak to a human; she would never know. The woman held out a box, and the girl kissed her envelope for good luck, and plopped it safely inside. She let out a big sigh and turned around, hope in her heart, that she could win the equivalent to the lottery. A seat at Camp Ouachita could change her life.
She didn’t know that a seat at Camp Ouachita could also end her life.