I sacrifice myself, p.1
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       I Sacrifice Myself, p.1
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           Christina Worrell
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I Sacrifice Myself

  I Sacrifice Myself

  Written By Author Christina Worrell AKA Faellin Angel

  Cover By Ashley Lane

  Smashwords Edition

  October 2012

  All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author, Christina Worrell. This is a work of fiction. All characters organizations and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. and their distinctive likeness are property of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any mean without prior permission of the author and publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy from one of the many online retailers where this book is stocked.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. Request for permission to make copies of any part of this work should be directed to the Facebook page:


  I bring to you a haunting and horrific tale that will leave you tingly, shivering, and quite possibly wishing you were not alone and unaware of the eyes glaring out at you in the darkness, from your window.

  Within these pages you will find one of my demented fantasies brought to life to entertain you on a dark and chilly evening. Enjoy it with a fine glass of Chardonnay by a fire, or anywhere. I suggest that you cuddle with a warm furry companion for the sake of your heart.

  Don’t worry, there are many more short stories to come. I have many books already published. You can check out both the e-books and paperbacks just about anywhere online and shortly they will be available on book shelves near you.

  About The Author

  Christina Worrell, AKA Faellin Angel, lives in the sweltering swamps of Georgia close to the Savannah coast. She has been a gypsy of sorts and has traveled and lived in many different cities, and quite a few states. She has not had the opportunity to step off American soil as of yet, but some day plans to travel as far as England and Ireland.

  Christina is a married, mother of two beautiful kids and several animals, and has many full time jobs, even though they all take place at home. Being a housewife is mandatory as is a mother. She also is the owner of an online bookstore and sells a little of everything. She has plans to buy and own a nice Victorian establishment somewhere near home and sell books and occult items, such as Tarot Cards and candles.

  Aside from spending time at buying and selling books, she tries to maintain her lifelong dream of being a published author, and has over a dozen books available in e-book and paperback. She also reads, writes, edits, reviews, shares, publishes books and has tried her hand at creating book covers. As hard as it is to do just one of those jobs she also runs many Facebook pages and groups to help promote not only herself and her own books, but others as well.

  She is not all work and no play, she’s also a proud Pagan with Buddhism and Wiccan as her religion. She doesn’t claim to be a real witch but she has never actually denied it either. She does claim though, to being an actual Empath, and does Tarot Readings in her spare time, what little she has of it.

  All this work is not just to benefit herself, or other authors, but to support her son, Super D (Damien), who has a few disabilities such as Autism and ADHD among a few. Profits from all her endeavors goes to this little superhero and his Autism Cause. He has a Facebook page and a page of his own on Christina’s website. Donations are always welcomed, but all that she asks of anyone is to like and share his pages.

  Mrs. Worrell is also an avid video game player. She loves classics, RPG, Shooter, and anything to do with zombies or other supernatural elements and creatures.

  That also goes for her entertainment as well. She enjoys many shows such as Supernatural, The Walking Dead, Buffy and Angel, Charmed, and many more. Although zombies are one of her top ten fears, she gets her fill of them. She even treats herself to some wickedly terrifying Zombies on COD, for those of you who know what that is!

  Her writing genre is an unique twist of flavors such as Paranormal, Young Adult, Horror, Fantasy, Romance, Poetry, Erotica, and a few children’s books. She, and her books, can be found just about anywhere online and soon in stores near you. She’s working on a FREE sampler of her works, since she has so many, and will hopefully have it out shortly after this book releases.

  She is always hard at work on several books at one time, as she can get quite distracted. With her busy and chaotic life she has managed to find the time to write and publish over a dozen books since officially becoming an author in early 2012. Not many authors can say that. She is also correcting a few editing errors on her first book Shade’s Loss, which had some issues that most first time Indie authors come across. She tried joining a new publisher but found being independent and working with several others was better for her.

  You will find she has a few short stories in anthologies with other authors, which she donated for good causes. In the future you will find her working with many authors, both with publishers and independent, because to her it is not about how or who published what but the final product and its success. So she is neutral and plans to stay so for some time… unless she gets recognized by some very prominent publishing houses. She has her eye on a lucky few, and I say lucky because this young, up and coming author is going to get not only recognized, and very soon, but will be competing with some major authors.

  If this is your first book then you are missing out, I urge you to read a few of her reviews, keeping in mind that there is some jealous competition that has been out longer than she. Remember everyone has their own opinions, likes and dislikes, and it takes readers like you to make an authors dream come true. Enjoy a book, then show it by supporting them in many different ways but mainly by gushing about the book that you read. Trust me, the more you share the word, the more fans that author gains. The more fans an author has, the more books they release for YOUR enjoyment. Want a sequel? Then show the author by helping her sale more of the book you enjoy so much. Authors see which books are liked better than others and when they do they know that writing a series will benefit them most.

  So I hope you have come to know this wickedly tantalizing and sizzling author and will enjoy the book as much as I did.

  I have known her longer than anyone and have come to enjoy her quirky and snarky personality that draws you in and makes you fall in love with her (it did me). Her realistically balanced views of life make you see things you never would have before. Her child-like wonder of the epic and magical fantasy world, including the literary one, will have you following her on memorable and never-ending journeys that only an author truly can. A storyteller such as this will leave you breathless, desperate for more, and vividly seeing worlds beyond our own.

  You will find a page of her links within this book, and if you think you have the courage to step into a wonderland just as addicting as the current Vamp and Fang hits, then do yourself a favor and drop what you are doing (unless its reading this book of course) and go get more of her talented works. You are denying yourself a pleasure no
ne should. I would know, it took me a decade to pick up one her books and I’m her husband!

  I have to admit here to not exactly writing this word for word, since I am not the talented writer my wife is, but I worked with her two best friends (one of which IS an author) to get what I wanted to say and share it with you. My rambling mental nonsense would have made you scream like a banshee or worse drop this book and run for cover.

  I never say what I mean, mean what I say, and understand less than half of what my wonderful wife says. She talks a lot despite all the stuff she gets accomplished, somehow, in less time than it took me to figure out how to get my nonsense into words and typed up. The typing part took about twenty minutes or so, the thinking part took much, much longer.

  Don’t think because I’m her husband that I’m urging you to read this book and all her others, because it’s not. Other than the fact she will probably hurt me when she reads this, okay definitely, because she is more of a anti-social, shy, and quiet sharer of anything personal. That and she finally wore me down after a decade of avoiding anything with words bigger than I can say, and made me read this book, which I found to my shock that I actually enjoyed it. Okay, I didn’t so much read it as was force fed it. She read it to me over several long nights. By the first chapter I was caught up in the action. By long I mean it took several, sessions?, to understand some of the more sophisticated words that authors of her level use. I didn‘t make it to college, okay.

  Do me a favor though and remind her of one of her cover artists favorite scare tactics he uses on her… alien, spider-like zombies that have crept into her room at night as they cause the apocalypse. She almost always has nightmares after one of us say something like that!

  -Joseph Worrell

  I Sacrifice Myself


  From the outsider’s point of view, the snug little cottage hidden quite cleverly in the twilight woods, appeared to be peaceful. It appeared full of love, full of serenity and safety.

  That was not the truth, and far from it. Inside this home of three, a girl no older than five, lay trembling and silently screaming as she stared out from her hiding spot underneath a bed. She witnessed the horrendously, mind-numbing evil and cruel creature walk into her home, as if he owned the place, and crush her young, strong, and brave father as if he were no more than a tiny and helpless kitten.

  As her father’s still-warm blood sprayed across the room, and slowly dripped down the walls that held her pretty hand-drawn art, she held in her terror and pain. Her tiny fist stifled the mews and cries that escaped, but could not dam the tears that fell unhindered from her large and glowing amber eyes.

  Her father’s blue eyes stared back at her, lifeless and full of helpless remorse, across the room from her under the table. His headless body lay crumbled by the fireplace.

  Her mother fought like the protective and powerful tigress she was, to do what she could to protect her sweet angel who was hidden nearby. Courageous or not, even her elemental powers of brilliantly life-like fire, could not stop the creature who laughed with cold and dark delight.

  Her mother was slain, was broken like a beautiful porcelain doll, with what was left of her rose-red blood draining down her chest onto the wooden floors.

  Shade could not hold back the scream that had been building since the vampire had stalked in, interrupting her birthday.

  The monstrous, hideous, and dark nightmarish creature turned towards her with bloody fangs sharper than knives, and smiled. His eyes glowed dark and red, like the flames in the fireplace. Another image permanently imprinted on her young and innocent mind.

  Shade could not accept the loss of her precious parents, who’d given up everything to take care of her, who’d died mercilessly right in front of her face. She looked down at the good luck charm that her aunts had made especially for her birthday, wondering why it had not protected her family, and let the sob finally go. She was doomed either way.

  The vampire strode jauntily over to her and lifted her easily out from under the bed, by the hair of her head, and laughed in her face.

  She kicked, she screamed, she fought back pitifully and uselessly.

  All her fight did was cause the horrid creature of the night to laugh harder. It easily blocked her ineffectual fists and exposed her frail ivory neck. When she attempted to bite him back, he smacked her across the head and face, instantly crushing her tiny, elfin nose and busting her cherry-red lips.

  Laughing cruelly, he took his razor sharp fangs and ripped open her neck, letting her crimson blood flow unhindered all while he savored the enticing and maddening aroma that only a virgin child could bring.

  She remembered her mother’s fire power, the one that she had been teaching young Shade to develop, and summoned every bit she possessed. She pulled it from her inner depths and threw every last bit into the vile vamp’s face, hoping against hope that it would somehow do what even her own mother could not.

  It accomplished something alright. He dropped her, clearly shocked. He easily tamed the small flames that licked at him, threatening to singe his flammable body into ash.

  With maddened eyes he picked her up once more. He slashed at her ribs, ripping her side open, and attempted to slake his thirst. Her precious life sustaining nectar wasted and spraying everything within reach.

  Shade resigned herself to her helpless fate, as she stared down at her lifeless parents. Broken, crushed, and nearly dead, Shade slumped and accepted the fact that she was too damn weak to do anything.

  Just as the darkness began to envelop her in its sweet and deadly embrace, she heard the vampire struggle and choke. She could no longer see, she could only hear, hear how the vampire cursed.

  He dropped her, much like a fragile rag doll, like he had her beautiful mother. Shade was jarred by the sudden impact, confused by her sudden release. Her wound now trickled blood, and instinct told her to stay absolutely still, to give herself much needed time to heal or await help.

  The vampire howled like a wolf, cursed her, threatened to skin her alive and eat her tender organs while she watched.

  Shade smiled, like a dying and crimson cherub, as the darkness washed over her and taking her from the macabre of insanity and death.

  When she woke, with a whimper and a tremor, it was still quite dark. Despite the terror she was instantly consumed by, and the unfathomable pain all over and mainly in her ribs, she struggled to rise. She smelled the blood. Something told her that she was carrying quite a bit of it, the sticky and stiff outfit proved as much.

  She could not see at all and it was icy cold. She knew the fire had died, and that daddy had not added more wood.

  There was a strange and intense burning throughout her body, as if she was on fire. Almost like the moments after she practiced their secret power, only intensified beyond reason. She felt weak and confused. Her ribs felt scabby, as if she’d hurt herself. That was when she began to realize her nightmare may have been realistic.

  As she struggled to pick herself up off the floor she stumbled over, what felt like broken furniture, to a candle. Glass crunched under her bare feet, cutting her, making her sob.

  Something was wrong, morbidly and frighteningly wrong. Deep down now, she knew her nightmare had not been dreamed, had been reality and when she lit the candle her parents would be lying cold in their own blood.

  Her will almost died, almost gave in, but she clenched her eyes, and one fist, and put the light to the wick. She barely noticed the burn as the flame licked closely at her tiny fingertips.

  She readied herself for the horror that she knew would greet her, would burn itself into her memory. Her failure at saving her parents would always haunt her. She had betrayed them. She was too weak, too young to save them, and now they lay broken and lifeless before her.

  Her ever increasing sobs were loud in the still night. Moonlight reflected from the mirror that stood in moonlit shadows in the corner. Its grotesque picture was one that would always be the one she saw when she clos
ed her eyes.

  The metallic and stale smell of blood sickened her. She felt the stickiness on her face and hands and knew that she was covered in it. The way her hair was stuck to her face made her want to rip it off.

  She crumpled to the floor as the unavoidable wails erupted from within her. Her mind nearly refused to see the sinister madness in the room. It wanted to protect itself but was too strong, too much of a fighter to let go.

  Shade did the only thing she could, the only thing she knew to do… she summoned her aunts. She had never done so before, knowing it was something saved especially for emergencies. If ever there was one, now was the time.

  Sixteen Years Later

  I, Shaeden Angelissa or Shade, listened rather intently to the others at the long, mahogany council table as they discussed their next big vampire hunt. Like cavemen thumping their chests and showing who had the bigger brain and brawn.

  Tomorrow was the full moon, a blue full moon. I was more than eager to see it since the moon was something special to me. I had an ability many others had never heard of.

  Since I’m getting ahead of myself I’ll explain while waiting for the others to finish their harsh, erratic arguing. I had experienced so much of this that it was beginning to scar me.

  I was born under a full moon, and during a rare equinox, and raised mainly by my aunts who are Pagan witches. Not the devil worshipping kind, but the ones before Christianity took over. They also hold Buddhism close to their hearts. They practice white and shadow magic, and worship the moon and her goddess Selene. Some know her as the goddess Luna.

  They taught me their strange ways from the moment I came to live with them, my mother before that only shared tiny bits of this fascinating knowledge. I was not as gifted in this as I was my curse, something they called a blessing. If they only carried this living thing, this demon, inside them as I did, then they would not say that.

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