Geeky Goth Novels & Stories

Derek Stygian’s stripper's club was bathed in a deep red light. The kind that makes everything look darker than it really was. Shadows moved along the walls as slow music played through hidden speakers, the bass low and steady like a heartbeat. The air felt hot with sin, heavy with smokes of their cigarettes, filled with sweat of the male strippers and the tables were filled with expensive alcohol. Not everyone in the city was allowed into Stygian's secret cult. Only those who are ready to sell their soul for discretion are allowed in.

And as I move toward him, he takes his eyes and heads to the ground in a low bow. I began to walk into another hallway with him behind me; the one that held my subjects. I hear the fast thud of Augustine's heartbeat, I also hear their heartbeats as well, and I can tell how many they are in the room ahead. My senses kick in. I twitch my nose and my golden eyes flare up in the dark hallway; I detest the smell of Aarde, it is the smell of the Karbouter, also known as the Goblin. I smell it first before the whiff of the Werewolves and vampires runs up my nostrils.

My ass looks bomb as hell. For the first time in a very long time I feel confident about how I look. I grab a short,silky,black robe to put on over the underwear. Sexy but classy. I put on some watermelon lip balm and walk to the door. Here goes nothing.

And until he had news (a clue, the jerk) I wouldn't hear anything. I reached out to him, felt the connection between us, but that was all I felt. He was either too far away or-damn it, Syd, stop that. Stop. That. Right. Now. The shower was hot and immediate and helped with some of the redness and puffies I always got from crying. At least, it made the rest of me pink so I matched. I dressed in black jeans and a T-shirt with a pentagram screen printed in silver. The ideal apparel for Blood's send-off. I even used some of the black eye liner Pain had given me for my birthday. My reflection was kind of badass. Meet Syd, el Gotho.

Love ‘em. “I do tats,” she’d said. Goth chick with a Daddy’s Girl Gone Bad vibe. Hair fifty shades of black. Bangs chopped with a razor. Big eyes rimmed with black. Skin whiter than rich kid coke. Dark blue smeared on her lips. Metal in her ears, nose, chin. Her small bright teeth chewing dollar store blue from her stubby nails.

He dragged my hand and pushed me to his chest. Blerghhh. I scented cedarwood from him, but the alcohol covered it up. How much liquor has he had? Am I even safe? The door shut behind, and as I got off him, I saw others who were exactly like them. Was it a goth party? Most passed out, the rest looking controlled by something. The goth girl still looked like she didn't give a fuck, and her brother, maybe not, was touchy. "Thank you," I breathed out.

I may be wolfless, but I am not useless. The other woman dressed somewhere between a goth and cottage-core aesthetic sneers. “They probably only took you on because you’re an anomaly. Everything in fashion has its fringes and that’s you,” She says tossing her sleek black hair down her back.

Zack felt like he needed a change of pants as he peed himself. "Calm down, Ms. Ashton," Garrix assured, silently putting down her rifle. "Madeleine Creek. Dorian Godfrey. Zachary McKean. I've known your presence all along. We suggest you come out now." The three geeks slumped their heads low with defeated looks and murmured altogether. "Uh oh. Busted." -END-

D-mn this cry baby, he really wants to get ourselves into trouble, huh? I turned my gaze to where the nerdy girl was and I saw how she burned holes in my head with her two fury eyes. She is way too fierce for a nerd. In some cliche movies or plays, geeks are suppose to be easily frightened, mainly trembling, shrinking violet, and demure but seeing her now, I guess nerds can be a badass too. My plan of yelling at Kalez just flew out of my mind because of her. Goddamn it! All of my tiptoing and all was put waste because of Kalex. What am I gonna do now?!

We couldn’t explain the whiteness of the room, so, as teens tend to, we dismissed it, and after several minutes, Fitzy grinned and said, “We should trash it.” I glanced at Bill and frowned. “You mean . . . ” “Sure. Toss the bricks out the window. Screw up their little Goth party.” He raised his eyebrows. “Think how pissed they’ll be.” I shook my head. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” However, this was Clifton Heights. The real world. Nothing much ever happened here. How likely was it that a bunch of Satanist/Goths would hunt us down and drag us from our homes kicking and screaming for messing up their brick pentagram?