Chris lifted his fingers, which felt like fifty-pound weights, to reach the remote control resting in its normal position. He turned the television off. Suddenly a cold sharp pain raced down the back of his spine. Chris had an itchy splinter of a feeling in the back of his mind that worried him. Chris thought that he was meant to be murdered. Chris thoroughly thought this feeling through. The cosy large house felt small and cold. Chris staggered to bed.
He woke up trying to forget about the incident. He decided that a coincidence is not going to ruin the day that lay ahead. Although he tried to be mentally strong that didn't stop him from looking over his shoulder when he was on his own.
Two whole weeks flew by and Chris returned to the house again. A sudden shock passed through Chris's head like a cold pain. This feeling was the feeling of deja vu. Chris had never experienced a feeling so strong. He walked up to the television set. This reminded him of two weeks ago.
It was ten o'clock, Chris flicked through the channels searching obsessively for the ten o'clock news. He succeeded and started watching expecting anything, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Surely enough the top story was a man murdered. The man also had the same name, Chris Smith. Chris shuddered and jumped out of the seat. The lights flickered wildly. He looked out of his window onto his driveway and sighted a man dressed in black walking towards his door. There was a loud knocking startling Chris out of the trance in which he fell into.
Chris's legs turned to jelly. His facial features screwed up like a puppy dog as he prepared to open the door. He opened the door. The mysterious man uttered a few muffley words out of his mouth. Chris heard him, but still said pardon. A louder attempt was made. "Can I come in," said the man. He entered not waiting for an answer. He took off his coat. Chris fell to the ground in surprise. The man wore nothing except for a pair of black trousers showing up the paleness of his skin. His body was covered in scars and bruises. Blood covered Chris's beautiful carpet. The man walked up to Chris and whispered "You with the same name as me will perish like the other. You are next!"
With those exact words the man vanished, leaving no doubt in Chris's mind that he was a ghost. Chris went into a panic attack. He grabbed a sleeping bag, his wallet and left the house. He thought that he could outrun the serial killer, but carried a knife just in case. He disappeared anonymously onto the streets of London.
Chris found the darkest and quietest alley known to him at the time. He laid down his sleeping bag. It was ten to twelve and he was very tired. Even in the warm and cosy sleeping bag Chris could not shake out the cold sensation, that ran throughout his body, which he refused to think of as fear.
An hour passed and Chris was making steady progress into reaching a well-deserved sleep.
Suddenly a crisp, sharp sound stopped him from going one step further and falling asleep. Chris thought nothing of it. There it was again, but this time closer. Chris lifted his head and scanned the area for any signs of life. Just as he relaxed and placed his head on the pillow he heard a voice. Chris stood up, turned around and there it was glaring him in the face. It was an evil not describable by words. It was a tall figure dressed in leather.
Chris instantly pulled out a knife and stabbed him twice in the stomach. It stood there and laughed in the lowest and most fearful tone of voice ever none to man. Stabbing it made no effect. It decided to show the motive for conducting such heinous crimes. The creature displayed its over grown canines. He or it was a vampire.
That was the story of how Chris Smith was changed for eternity into one of them, a vampire. The man who warned him was the previous victim, but was only killed because he was not the man the vampire was after. The vampire wanted him alone. He only knew the name of him so he went through all the Chris Smiths who lived in London. Why him? That remains a mystery.