Inkognito

Thanks for the honesty, seriously, I appreciate it. You’re absolutely right about Aaven. He’s like that one kid in high school who annoyed everyone freshman year but somehow managed to mature into someone tolerable by senior year. Unfortunately for him, he’s the type who has to learn the hard way between freshman and senior year. The kind who hits rock bottom before redemption even becomes an option. In short, he sucks. And right now, he’s actively trying to suck even more. But I promise he becomes someone you don’t actually want to punch in the face. He just might have to take a few punches, literal or metaphorical, to get there. Chapters 8 and onward shift gears with more introspection, more consequences, and a deeper dive into who he really is beneath the snarling. Thanks for reading and sticking around, even when Aaven’s out here auditioning for "Most Extra in a Leading Role." Your feedback is gold.

As the shattered window faded behind them and the moonlit woods closed in, Lennix and Emerson raced through the dark effortlessly. Ahead, Aaven flitted like a bat out of hell, crashing through the underbrush. Grithen was close behind in pursuit, while Isaac’s laughter rang out from somewhere off to the side. Lennix exhaled through his nose. “Thoughts so far?” Emerson kept pace beside him. “He’s volatile. But not mindless. Instinct fused with defiance. He’s rebelling because he can

Lennix straightened in his chair. “You’re sure?” Emerson rotated the syringe slowly between his fingers. “Based on the results of my experiment, yes. The dormant DNA can be triggered safely through the introduction of a modified venom compound.” Aaven shot to his feet, the chair scraping hard against the floor. “Are you crazy? What if it kills me? Or turns me into something like you?” “If the DNA activates on its own, we lose any control over it,” Emerson stated evenly. “That coul

Ryan Langley, seventeen and emotionally maimed by lint-related trauma, stood in his room clutching a mesh delicates bag that contained the rarest sight in his household: fully intact socks. His socks. Five, to be exact. Non-matching. Stretched. But most importantly? Uneaten. He placed the bag gently on his comforter like it was made of glass, exhaled through his nose, and announced, with all the muster of a war-weary general, “No casualties. You are survivors. We did it,

There was no storm on the third night, only the weight of one, a suffocating heaviness that kept Aaven wide awake, glancing twice at every shadow while Emerson’s words circled in his mind like hungry predators. Dormant DNA. Awakened instincts. Transformation. More than human. The phrases echoed endlessly, making his skin crawl. Unable to bear another moment of restless thoughts, or firelight dancing across the ceiling, he got up. The house was silent as Aaven stepped into the

Ryan Langley, seventeen and chronically unimpressed, had made exactly three promises to himself this school year: 1. Prevent any more of his socks from becoming condemned sacrifice victims. 2. Figure out whether “professional gamer” was a real career or just unemployment in disguise. 3. Stop letting his dads emotionally blackmail him. He was failing successfully on all three counts. His English teacher always did say he had range. Case in point: it was 9:37 p.m. on

What do you get when your satirical college essay is read by your two dads? Trial by passive-aggressiveness. Judgment from a pug who demands tribute with every verdict. And emotional blackmail, served cold on a guilt-plated platter. Thanks, Dads.

@drsawzall @centexhairysub @VBlew @sandrewn @Jjeffalch @Badforlad @JeffreyL @melopuff @Scotrik1 @frosenblum @mldmom @Seraph28 @MJC @Dathi @njfjm1 Hey everyone! Thanks so much for reading, reacting, and commenting on my story. I really appreciate all of you. I’m at a bit of a crossroads with the next chapter and wanted to get your input. When I first outlined this story, I created in-depth character sheets for everyone, planning for each of them to have rich backstories. However, this will be the most action heavy story I’ve ever written. And while I’m still flavoring it in my own way, I don’t want to throw anyone off if you’re expecting the plot to keep progressing at a steady pace and I suddenly slow things down with more character-driven, slice of life chapters woven in. So my question is, do you want those deeper character backstories and more world building along the way, or would you rather stay focused on the main plot? Feel free to comment your thoughts below, or just vote. If your vote is for the character driven scene, give this a heart. If you’re leaning toward the action, hit the fingers crossed. No pressure either way on whichever you choose. I’ve already written two versions of the next chapter that I believe are both equally strong in their own way, so once I get some feedback, I’ll go ahead and post it. Thanks again, guys.

Aaven dropped into the nearest chair with his arms crossed, scowling like it might ward them off. He fixed his gaze on a smudge in the floorboard as he drummed an agitated rhythm on his biceps. “So what now?” he huffed. “You gonna poke around and see if I grow fangs? Or are you just waiting to see if I’ll sprout wings and fly off the handle?” Isaac chuckled. Aaven didn’t look up. “Shut up.” Lennix exhaled softly. “Good. Maybe now we can talk without the theatrics.” “I w

True, although I'd say this whole situation is turning out to be more than he can chew.

Yeah, the stakes are getting a bit too personal for him now.

Thanks! I find a generous serving of irony keeps the blood pumping and really helps the flavor profile. 😉

The fire burned low. Shadows danced along the walls as Aaven floated on the edge of sleep, half-aware of soft voices threading through the dark. He blinked, rubbing his eyes. The room was empty. He rose, his feet whispering across the floor as he followed the voices down the hall. “… He smells different,” came Lennix’s hushed voice. “I told you,” Isaac insisted. “I knew the second he walked in. The blood just confirmed it.” “You’re reading into things,” Grithen coun

Tickle torture threats? Jeez, talk about raising the stakes! And here I thought only vampires had to worry about that. 😜

Fangks! Glad I decided to bite the bullet and shoot my shot at writing a banger, and I’m even happier that my aim’s right on target for ya!

Thanks! Glad to hear you enjoy it so far!

Aaven stepped out of the Jeep, shouldering his bag and shoving his hands deeper into his jacket pockets as he looked up at the silhouette carved into the mountainside. A fresh shiver ran through him, the cold biting his skin as Lennix beckoned him toward the door. “Come on in. You’ll freeze your ass off out here.” The heavy wooden door swung open with a low creak. Aaven paused. The house was surprisingly modern. Open space, polished wood floor, a fireplace crackling gently, casting restless

The moonless night loomed vast and silent, the mountain road coiling endlessly through thick trees and jagged cliffs. Aaven flicked his headlights to high beam, but the pale glow barely sliced through the deep black ahead. His small pickup truck rumbled beneath him, the dashboard blinking a red warning as the temperature gauge inched higher. "Come on, not now," he groaned as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He hadn't seen another car in over an hour, and his phone signal ha

Half-human, half-vampire? Yawn. Aaven isn’t a half-breed. He’s something new. A merging Mother Nature never meant to exist. The Unpoisoned. Born of a genetic fluke, he’s either nature’s greatest mistake or evolution’s next leap. Will he become the world’s deadliest venom… or its only antivenom?