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I like monster movies. Sure, I’ll hit up the occasional rom com or superhero blockbuster, but I like something I can relate to. Sure, the creatures are often a bit cartoony and bland, but it's a representation and I can appreciate that at least. I go to the movies almost every day. I never get a popcorn or drink. Sometimes, I’ll buy a pack of breath mints or gum for flavor. I like to sit in the very back, but the front is also acceptable if it means I can keep my distance from others. I usually go to showing around eight or nine. I get there half an hour before the trailers start and watch as the flies come in to rest and relax in my web. I always come alone but I’m not actually alone. My children line my gut. I think they’re into the movies too. They like music at least.

My children have been with me for as long as I can remember. They squirmed beneath my pale skin even as a toddler. I always knew instinctively never to mention to family or anyone else for that matter. They would be taken away and cut up and none of us wanted that to happen. It was when I reached puberty that they began to emerge from my mouth. They are what you would call leeches, but I’m not certain that is accurate, as they and I are one and the same. I don’t eat “food” anymore. They do the eating for me now. They slither on and off of unsuspecting humans faster than can easily be noticed. They collect the blood and return it to me for sustenance. Usually, they’re harmless. Not always. Their first meal was my sleeping parents. They didn’t sleep the whole time actually. They were very loud as well as being very tasty. It was jointly the saddest and most pleasurable experience of my young life.

It’s been thirty-five years since then, and I have gotten quite good at what I do. I keep a low profile job as an accountant. I’m not popular with coworkers or clients, but no one suspects I’m not one of them. By night, I feed while enjoying the very best Hollywood has to offer, and occasionally an Adam Sandler flick to criticize on my blog. It’s a good life and it’s without complications, except for yesterday. I hadn't eaten for a few days. I had come by a rather nasty cold dealing with a client, and stayed in a couple nights. Work went very slowly. After, I decided to head to the seven o’clock showing of Grendel 5: Bloodstorm. The Grendel franchise is a personal favorite of mine. It’s about the legendary beast as he kills teenagers in Canada while shouting swears and puns. Anyway, I showed up a little less early than usual. It was five forty-five when I arrived at the cinema and purchased my ticket. I considered the 3D option, but it’s usually cheap and pointless in my humble opinion.

I took my seat in the back left corner and meditated for a bit until I heard the trailers begin. Nothing really caught my eye. By that point, most of my fellow moviegoers had arrived and taken their seats. I counted them one by one. There were twenty-seven people and an infant which I don’t think should really count as a person. Then again maybe the same applies to me. The movie started. The first scene was a real blood bath. It made the few thin blonde hairs on my almost completely hairless body stand up in arousal. I waited about ten minutes before stirring my children from their slumber. All it took was holding my breath for a moment. They noticed the change and began to rapidly make their way up my throat.

There was no one close enough to see, so I was able to cough them one by one on to the seat beside me and watch as the long, slimy black creatures wriggled away. I then turned my attention back to the film. It’s hard to describe, but I could feel the warmth as the leeches quickly removed blood from our prey, and they in turn could feel my hunger. I was so so hungry. It felt so good taking the blood and making it mine. It feels so so good, and always shockingly amazing. You feel like God, like the first person to do speed on the moon. Then I heard the screaming, and I realized tonight I was a god of death. There was a young woman three rows in front of me. She clutched in her arms a limp bundle of cloth. The baby had fucking died. Luckily for me, my children were all accounted for as they quickly slid up my pant leg to hide from sight.

Needless to say, the paramedics were called, and the screening ended quite abruptly. That was kind of stupid on the part of the theater. It’s not like not showing fictional teenagers getting their arms and heads ripped off will somehow restart a real baby’s heart. They didn’t even give us our money back. I read in the paper that they put it towards the funeral. How inconsiderate. I waited until I was in the men’s room stall before gulping down my bloodsuckers. I caught the whole movie earlier tonight. It was a true masterpiece. They finally gave Grendel a mate, and there was what I suspect will one day be considered a classic scene involving a flamethrower. I’d give it a solid nine out of ten at least. The soundtrack might have been a bit heavily influenced by previous installments in the franchise. Still definitely worth the price of admission. Would recommend. Might even see it again. Just do us all a favor and don’t bring your fucking kids.


"Bad Night Out"--Creepypasta

Written by Gomez Capulet
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