Hi, I’m Amanda: author, intuitive reader, energy healer, and astrologist. For a short bio, author/social links, and my Masterlist, go to my short bio page :)
And sometimes, your guides and subconscious are done with your lack of faith in yourself so they spell it out (shout it, at times) in your dreams. So loudly, and in neon, that you cannot miss it. And when you wake up, you say, "Okay! I get it! Damn..."
Author Note: this story was written about four years ago as part of a vampire/horror/dark fantasy challenge. It is a little over 1400 words. Enjoy!
Warnings: this is a vampire/horror story, so there is blood and death.
Hot shower. Hot shower, hot shower, hot shower.
Kit Halloway chanted those two words over and over as she marched up the long stairway to the sixth floor, heavy grocery bags in each hand. All she could smell was the grease and meat she’d been serving at the fast food restaurant down the road, where she’d pulled a double-shift. Her feet ached, her back ached far more, and all she wanted was a shower and some dinner.
So, of course, the elevator was broken and she had to walk up to the sixth floor with heavy grocery bags.
“Thank the gods,” she muttered as she finally reached the door to her floor. “Fourth time in eight months that damn elevator has broken down,” she murmured as she took a left to the end of the hall.
She was seriously starting to think the thing had it in for her.
When she reached the door to her apartment, she carefully moved her hand to the knob while balancing the bag.
The door was locked.
“Are you kidding me?” she murmured irritably. Then, after taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, praying her roommate was home as planned. “Tessa,” she said loud enough so she could be heard through the door. “The door’s locked and I have a bunch of groceries—could you open the door, please?”
No answer.
Kit knocked louder, shuffling the bags slightly. “Tessa?”
Please be home, Tessa. Please.
She really didn’t want to put the bags down and fish the keys out of her purse.
Kit pounded twice on the door, surprised the nosy neighbor to their left hadn’t opened her own door to complain about the “ruckus”.
“Tessa!”
Leaning her ear against the door, she strained to hear for movement. After a few moments, her heart sank. She set the bags on the ground then fished her keys from her purse. Irritation started to turn to anger—which she knew was unjustified as she was just having a bad day—as she slid the key into the lock and turned it.
Opening the door, she found that the lights were on in the kitchen and living room, but no sign of Tessa.
That was unusual. If Tessa left the apartment, she only left the hallway light on.
“Tess?” she called out as she maneuvered the grocery bags into her arms. “You home?”
Silence.
Once she had the door closed—kicking it closed with her foot—Kit made her way to the kitchen, which was open to the living room, and set the bags on the counter then set her purse down as well.
Reaching into a bag, she grabbed the orange juice and walked over to the fridge. As she did so she noticed that Tessa’s purse was on the work bench to the left of the refrigerator. That made her pause: hand on the fridge door.
“Tess?” she called out once more. Again, the inquiry went unanswered.
Anxiousness began to coil slowly in her gut, replacing the irritation, as she looked down the dark hallway past the living room. The apartment was so quiet that her ears began to ring, which only deepened the unease sweeping through her.
Her roommate, and best friend, would never leave the apartment without her purse. Not even if she was visiting a neighbor on the same floor.
Placing the juice back on the counter, Kit grabbed a large knife from their gourmet set—Tessa being a chef, the set was top-of-the-line. Slowly, with her gut now in a tight knot, she made her way to the hall, preparing herself the best she could for the worst possible situation while praying for the best. Especially when she saw the light coming from under the door of the bedroom.
Something was wrong.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she called out one more time. “Tessa? You okay?”
Leaning close to the door, she listened intently, and when she heard no sounds of sleep—Tessa was known to lightly snore—the worry turned to fear. A fear that something horrible had happened and Tessa couldn’t call out.
Stamping down her fear the best she could, she placed her hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and then opened the door: her grip on the knife tightening as she pushed it opened wide.
The sight before her made her heart skip a beat, and the knife slipped in what seemed like slow motion from her hand.
Blood covered the off-white sheets and pale purple blankets of the bed. One of Tessa’s arms was stretched out while the other was at her side. Her head was turned towards the door: eyes open and full of fear. Her mouth slightly agape, and blood covered her neck and chest. Legs bent at the knees, pointing towards the door as well.
“Oh God,” Kit gasped then rushed to her friend’s side. She quickly checked for pulse—her hand shaking. “Tessa! Tess! Damn it,” she cursed as her fingers slipped on the blood as she tried to find a pulse. “Calm down, Kit, calm down. She needs you.”
Shit. She couldn’t find a pulse.
Kit moved her hand to the other side Tessa’s neck, hoping to find a pulse, but her fingers slipped into gash.
With horror, she turned Tessa’s head: a large, gaping wound, about two inches long and an inch wide, still oozed blood. Starting just below the jugular. Her hand covered the wound as she fought panic, and she suddenly realized that the blood was warm, and so was her friend’s skin.
This just happened. “Shit. Shit.”
She ran into the bathroom, grabbed some towels, and ran back to Tessa, swiping the cell phone off the nightstand before pressing a towel to Tessa’s neck with as much pressure as she could as she grabbed Tessa’s landline on the night stand.
Why the hell didn’t you grab your cellphone, Kit!
“That’s not going to work, poppet.”
Her entire body froze at the deep, male voice behind her.
A cold breeze ran up her spine suddenly: the man’s breath on the back of her neck.
How did he get behind me so quickly after speaking? I didn’t even hear a sound!
“Come now, poppet.” A pale hand pressed gently against hers, the one that held the towel to Tessa’s neck. His skin was ice cold. “Let her die. She’s already kissing the other side,” he whispered in her ear, sending icicles up down her spine.
Tessa…
Looking down at her friend, realizing that his words meant Tessa was still clinging to life, Kit unfroze—her hand pressing the towel harder against the wound. “No.”
“Let her go,” he said calmly and softly.
Steeling herself, she replied forcefully, “No. Let me call for help.”
He chuckled, and the sound rolled through her in a wave, caressing her bones. “She sealed her fate long ago.” His fingers dug into her hand. “But I will make you a deal—I will call for help, keep her alive long enough for them to reach her, if you agree to replace her as my pet.”
Confusion rattled her, her eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean? Tessa is no one’s pet?”
His lips brushed her cheek, and then sharp teeth grazed her skin. She stilled her once more.
“She is indeed my pet, as so many others have been through the centuries. If you want to save her, I suggest you make a quick decision, Ms. Halloway.”
Centuries? The confusion deepened, but worry and panic about Tessa’s well-being was a far greater force. She couldn’t let her die, and she was betting he knew that. “How will I know how she fares?” she whispered.
“I will make certain you know. She has two minutes left in her if I don’t stop the bleeding. Choose. Trade your life and freedom for hers, or you both die.”
That was not a choice. She’d die for Tessa, and the guilt from not trying to save her would be all-consuming.
“Save her.” She was confident in her choice, though she knew whatever he had planned for her would most likely be a living hell.
“Good girl.”
Dizziness rocked through her a split second after his words: a strong arm wrapped around her as she started to fall forward, blackness edging her vision.
His pleasure touched her mind—somehow she felt it—as her body went completely limp.
Imagery: aura is yellow (Solar Plexus energy~ confidence, drive) and green (Heart). Male mountain goat (leadership, endurance, overcoming tough obstacles), climbing a mountain and being close to the top.
Meaning: you are so close to your goal! You are radiating joy and self-confidence, knowing you can tackle any obstacle and get back up from any setback. You have a deep knowing and trust in your capabilities as a leader and creator.
Micro story for this reading (what I channeled told through a micro story) 📖:
You pause for a breath: close to the top of mountain. Your feet steady, heart certain. The male mountain goat next to you echoes your certainty. The deep inner knowing and self-confidence that you are almost there~ your goal so close that your hand can graze it.
You smile as pure joy rushes through your body. Joy as radiant as the sun.
You trust in your skills, in your ability to stand back up when a setback appears. Confident in your leadership, in your steady patience. You nod at your companion then calmly begin to climb once more: the moutain goat following your lead.
Weekly Energy Reading for the Collective: Week of August 2, 2026
Here is this week's energy reading and messages from Source & Spirit for the Collective. Take a deep breath~ feel if this is right for you.
Take only what resonates 💞
ENERGY: this week's energy is focused~ getting clear on what you want, and finding the best way to move forward. The aura around the Collective has a lot of yellow and indigo~ Third Eye and Solar Plexus energy. Drive and determination mixed with intuition and wisdom. Allowing your inner compass to guide you as you drive forward.
💫☀️💫☀️💫☀️
MESSAGES:
💫 Stay focused: hone your skills, channel your energy into forward movement.
💫 Connect and learn from others that feel right to you: partnerships that allow you to forge ahead, that allow you to hone your skills.
💫 Be adaptable during this process. Engage your senses, and listen to your intuition about what feels right for you.
💫 Tradition matters, and you can honor that wisdom while also bringing innovation and new ideas into the fold.
This can bring tension, but don't allow the voices of others to drown yours out. Speak and communicate clearly~ hold your boundaries.
💫 Remember to have fun, to allow joy. Celebrate your small wins.
Author Note: I wrote this story this past Tuesday. It was inspired by a picture I saw of a Ferris wheel, and then I posted a video prompt for other writers about how every time you crested the top, your reality shifted. If you're a writer, feel free to use the idea as prompt! Enjoy!
🎡🎡🎡
Maybe something was wrong with the fried dough…
That’s what you keep telling yourself as the Ferris Wheel rounds the bottom once again. Your stomach drops as the ride slows then stops halfway to the top. You seriously consider just jumping off the ride at that moment. You may break a bone, but you’d live.
As the ride begins to move again, you consider closing your eyes, but choose not to. You have to see if it happens again. Have to know if the first two times were just a trick of the eye or some strange bend of light.
The knot in your stomach coils tighter as you crest the top…and again, the world before you shifts just slightly, just as it had the first two times.
The first time you crested the top, the sunlight had shifted slightly more to red. The second time, birds flew by that had colors you had never seen before. Now, the layout of the fairgrounds had shifted ever-so-slightly, just enough for you to notice something was wrong.
When the ride goes around once more, you stop at the top, and every time you blink, the changes are more noticeable. There’s no way to explain away or ignore them, to blame it on a bend of light: apocalyptic colors of green and gray, the grounds overcrowded or barren of life, zombies, ghosts, a beautiful day but the sky is fuchsia, and no one seems to mind. In fact, they delight in it.
Every single time you blink—no matter how fast or how slow—reality shifts.
As the ride moves again, and begins to slow at the bottom, everything returns to normal. You hesitantly get off the ride, moving through the crowd again until you find a bench to sit on. As you sit, the noise of the crowd dulls, and you try to get your bearings, try to figure out what had just occurred, what you had just experienced.
You look upward and see six butterflies coming toward you, thinking at first that they were such a calming sight. But then, as they move around you and in front of you, one lands upon your hand. You bring it close as you smile, but that smile fades quickly as you inspect the insect, and the knot in your belly grows so tight you become nauseated.
Though the body seemed normal in color and shape, the wings of the butterfly are made of the thinnest strands of silver metal: you can feel the difference as one of its wings flutters against your skin. Just enough of a touch to alert you.
When the butterflies leave you, your gaze returns to the crowd. Standing, you look around and nothing else seems wrong or out of place.
But as you look toward the Ferris Wheel, you notice the color has shifted slightly. In that moment, a realization sinks deep into your bones, and the world seems to narrow as you stare at the ride.
You are not in your original reality…and you only have four hours before the fair closes to figure out how to get back.
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