I’m new to writing short stories, but I am an experimental writer always up to a challenge. Here are the opening paragraphs of Homo Sapiens Sanguinius, a phrase I might spell differently each time I type it. The setting is near-future Brighton.

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“We’re not vampires,” I spit out, locking eyes with Ray as he scrubs down the bar. The pub’s shoddy lights throw dodgy shadows all over. Smells like a mix of skint dreams and last night’s piss-ups.

Ray sets down another pint, glass tilting in practiced hands. “You alright, Eddie? You look knackered.”

“Am I bloody alright? I’m gutted, mate.” He slides the pint toward me—amber nectar topped with froth. A quick fix, but who’s fooling who?

The telly flicks from some wanker politician to the news. Dr. Sarah Wright’s name crawls across the screen. “Dozens more dead.” My stomach churns.

“Bollocks,” I mutter, necking half the pint. It’s all gone tits up, and what’s everyone doing? Gawping at footie like we’re some sort of joke.

I drain the last of my pint, eyeing the telly again. “Fuckin’ useless, all of ’em,” I grumble, my finger stabbing at the air toward the talking heads. They’re just prattling on, ignoring the shitstorm brewing.

Ray catches my drift, his eyes narrowing. “You reckon they’ll sort it?”

“Sort it? Mate, they’re more clueless than a sodding chav at a wine tasting.” I toss some coins on the counter, enough to settle the tab. “I’m off. This place is doing my head in.”

“Take care, Eddie. And watch your back, yeah?” Ray calls out as I turn to leave.

I push through the door, the pub’s clamour fading behind me. Fresh air hits my face like a wake-up slap. Only it ain’t waking me up from this nightmare.

Just then, I bump into some bloke. “Oi! Watch it, wanker,” he snarls.

“I’ve got bigger fish to fry than dealing with tossers like you,” I snap back, shoving past him.

As I stomp down the pavement, each step heavy with dread and resentment, I can’t shake off the thought: we’re on our own in this mess, no cavalry coming for us. And that thought? It’s bloody terrifying.

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Disclaimer: This content relates to a work in progress. As such, details are subject to change or removal.