My Name Is…

Finally, it was my turn. As I stood up, the backs of my knees pushed my chair out behind me, the scrape of the metal legs against the damp concrete floor echoing around the the basement hall. The noise only served to highlight the general sense of loneliness and desperation. God, they were a depressed looking bunch. I cleared my throat, “Hello, everyone. My name’s Jamie, and I’m an addict”.
“Hello Jamie” they mourned. Well, I couldn’t exactly tell them the real reason I was there, now could I? The last time I did that, I had the whole group running for the door. Luckily, I got to it first, and managed to contain the situation. Well, when I say contained … put it this way, I’ll never be able to show my face in Bromley again, not after that little blood-lust of an evening. It had been a pathetically low turn-out anyway, so there were only four of them. Still, it ended up a real mess, what with all the hysteria. And the trouser wetting. Oh, and let’s not forget the blood. No – starting a meeting, any kind of meeting, with “Hello everyone. My name’s Jamie, and I’m a vampire” is definitely not the way to win friends. But then generally I’m not out looking for friends, I’m looking for dinner.

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