Today was an excruciatingly long day, awaiting my letter. Just moments ago, it was mailed to me like a death sentence to a prisoner. I nearly knocked down the mirror propped up beside me while grabbing the letter. Tears filled my eyes as my pale hands tore open the cover. My blue eyes scanned the page, searching, scanning, for a response. Every day of my life has been leading to this moment. Every score, every tour, everything I chose to do in my free time. I try to focus on the blurry page in my hand, looking for the words you're admitted or something of the sort.
Months prior, on the day of my tour, I drove seven treacherous hours. The horror-movie-esque clouds covered the sky above, hiding the sun from view, admitting us to have a tour later in the day. Although it was already 4 A.M, it looked like midnight. I clutched my umbrella close, and I exited the car. The pale tour guide greeted us at the gate, ready to escort us through the historic, brick building. She rambled on about classes as we strolled past a variety of rooms. After we were done, she reassured me that my chances to be admitted were high.
Now, a wave of icy air courses through my living room as I scan through the heavily worded letter. Finally, my heart pounds as my eyes flutter to the line, you have been admitted. Slowly, the words drift off the page, and I inhale deeply. I watch my reflection begin to fade like a memory from the mirror propped up next to me. Soon, an aching sensation begins to transpire in my teeth and my canines begin to grow. My newly acquired fangs fit gracefully in my stinging mouth. Meanwhile, I reach my hands into the envelope on the table beside me. Eventually, my fingers begin to make out a smooth, neatly folded, cloth. Thus, I yank it out of its envelope, and it starts to spasm uncontrollably. Indeed, my newly assigned cloak begins to unfold before me, with its luscious red trim and smooth black exterior. Now, I drape the cloak over my shoulders, swiftly pull one side of it over to the opposite side of my body(covering me entirely), and I open my mouth to reveal my two fangs. I slowly slide the window up - revealing myself to the night sky - and step onto the ledge without a glance back. Without any justification, my feet lift from the ledge, and I glide into the starry sky. The still incomprehensible words from the letter flit into my head, still trying to fathom it. You're admitted to become a vampire, it reported, you are assigned to the lowest class of humans to begin torturing, it went on, your first assignment is to murder any person reading this.
The last face you'll ever see.