Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Bullets


by 3RR0R 1 review

Can you take this spike?

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Fantasy,Horror - Characters: Ray Toro - Warnings: [V] [?] - Published: 2012-02-13 - Updated: 2012-02-13 - 955 words

Can you take this spike?

As the wooden stake finally penetrated the thick skin, a bloodcurdling shriek resonated through the vacant house. I smiled in satisfaction, put my foot on its shoulder and pulled the wood out of the chest cavity, letting the cold body collapse on the tiled floor.

Another night, another vampire. Never fails.

My foot lightly tapped the vampire’s bloodless face, checking to see if the thing was actually dead or playing.


The vampire jumped up as I pulled by booted foot away, lunging at me with wild eyes. His clawed hands reached out to rip my throat open as the clock struck witching hour.

“Shit!” I yelled.

Just as his talons grazed my throat, I felt myself being pulled backwards and a loud shing of a bullet whizzing past my ear- and then the vampire’s face exploded in a hideous mass.

“Careful.” Ray said, still keeping his sights on the now actually-dead vampire.

Still panting from the adrenaline, I said, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” he closed his eyes, looking pained. “Just...”

“Don’t be so reckless.” I finished, already walking away as his arm relaxed. “Now come on. It’s the witching hour already and we’re not even halfway done yet.”

The sound of my boots clicked unevenly as I trod through the corridor. I looked down to see that one of the heels was broken, snapped in half by the recent vampire. I groaned in frustration and took the offending shoe off. Now I would move even slower than I already was and soon the witching hour would already be over and the vampiric vermin would return to their coffins and torment the human race another night.

When I removed both shoes I continued towards one of the bedrooms, keeping my stake at the ready- old fashioned to the point of being called obsolete, but it got the job done. My hand gripped the doorknob and turned it so slowly I could’ve sworn it wasn’t moving at all. Ray followed behind me and the door swung open on its rusted hinges.

Another vampire- female, this time- shrieked at me and Ray held his gun up protectively, but I had already impaled the beast.

“Nice,” I said, looking at the gore that now coated my spike.


By the time the half-hour chime ricocheted madly off the walls, Ray and I had nearly finished clearing out the house, with only one room left.
The attic.

I gulped. Normally, attics were no more than tight crawlspaces infested with cobwebs that somehow always tangled themselves in my short black bob. But this one... this one was different. It was steep-roofed with enough headroom for even Ray to stand up straight, and the floorboards had a tendency to creak. Horrible for stealth, horrible for running.

Luckily, we hadn’t encountered any vampires yet, but along with the thick dust, apprehension permeated the air. A wind blew through the cracked shutters, and among it, a lilting voice flowed into my ears.

“Oranges and lemons say the bells of St. Clements...

You owe me five farthings say the bells of St. Martins...”

“Lamia?” Ray said. “Can you stop that? It’s creeping me out.”

“I’m not singing it.” I said.

“Well if you’re not than who...” he trailed off as another line swirled into the room.

“When will you pay me? say the bells of Old Bailey...

When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch...”

“Fuck.” I breathed. “It’s getting louder.”

Ray and I began walking faster, away from the sound. But it seemed that the further we got, the louder it became.

A shadow flitted across the wall and I let out a panicked breath. Who the hell...

“When will that be? say the bells of Stepney...

I do not know say the bells of Great Bow...”

I covered my ears and crouched in an attempt to block the song, which was now loud to the point of deafening. The shadow darted across the room again, but this time stopped near Ray.

“Here comes a candle to light you to bed...”

A sharp, blade-like object hovered above his oblivious head. I opened my mouth to warn him, but when I tried to speak I felt only silent air choking my lungs.

“What?” Ray asked, staring at my gaping mouth.

“Here comes a chopper to chop off your head...”

The blade raised, and finally my scream tore through, ragged and desperate.

“Look out!”

Too late.

The shadow blade sliced through his neck, his dead head rolling at me. I screamed again and started running, not caring anymore about splinters of unstealthiness. I felt the shadow converge upon me, and I felt my legs kick into a pace almost inhumanly fast. I closed my eyes and remembered what Ray told me.




I sprinted down the stairs onto the third floor, stupidly choosing to run into the bedroom.

I had too much momentum to stop. I knew this as I crashed through the ornate French doors that led to the balcony, as I tumbled over the ledge, hurtled towards the ground far below.


A sneering silhouette crouched on the balcony and sang out the last line.

“Chip chop, chip chop- the Last Man’s dead.”

Dead in an instant.

Struck down, before our prime

Because I love Ray-ban and he doesn't get enough appreciation- yes, even though he gets decapitated in this, I still consider it a form of flattery. The quotations are from the nursery rhyme Oranges and Lemons. Yes. I'm aware it's a fucking creepy rhyme. And they wonder why I grew up so demented? I had to listen to this shit, you know!
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