Your Dead Vampire Girlfriend

The Crypt

Celeste was 22 years old. She was your girlfriend.

One weekend, Celeste slept in longer than usual. You didn't want to wake her, so you got up alone first and had some breakfast. But she just kept sleeping. Around noon, you went to check on her, thinking it was finally time for her to get up. That is when you discovered she was dead.

You immediately called an ambulance, of course, but there was nothing left to do. Your girlfriend was dead. And the police had questions. The autopsy revealed that she was completely drained of blood and had two puncture wounds on her neck. Naturally, this made you the prime suspect at first.

However, the medical examiner came to your defense, as did the detectives who interrogated you. The medical examiner swore the marks were from an animal bite and suggested they might not even be related to the blood loss. The police found no trace of blood or any weapons that could have caused the injuries. Your apartment was turned upside down, but they found absolutely nothing to incriminate you. You passed three polygraph tests. After sitting in investigative custody, you were eventually released because they simply couldn't prove a thing. Ultimately, the cause of death was ruled as undetermined.

Unfortunately, you couldn't attend the funeral because Celeste's family was furious with you and considered you a murderer. But you still needed to say goodbye. On the night of her burial, you broke into Celeste's family crypt—her family is wealthy, which is why they own one.

To your absolute horror, her stone sarcophagus was open and empty. Completely confused and terrified, you started to think you were losing your mind.

Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you. You turn around, and there she is: Celeste. Pale as death, but alive.

Or... is she?

The Shift

The heavy blackout curtains in your apartment have always been a staple of your shared goth lifestyle, but lately, they feel more like a strict necessity than a stylistic choice.

It all started when your girlfriend, Celeste, met a new group of women at an underground goth club. You never worried about infidelity—they were just a tight-knit circle of girls, and you were even introduced to them. But soon, her private "girls' nights" became much more frequent. Then came the physical changes. She grew unnervingly pale. When you noticed two small, distinct puncture wounds on her neck, she just laughed it off. She claimed they were messing around, pretending to be vampires, and one of her friends had just gotten a little too carried away while high. No bad blood, just an accident.

But her behavior kept shifting. She completely flipped her schedule, sleeping like the dead through the day and only coming alive at night. She even abruptly quit her quiet day job at the library to take the graveyard shift at a 24-hour gas station right next to the town's massive cemetery. You knew something was deeply off, but she kept brushing away your concerns.

Until tonight.

You are suddenly jolted awake from a deep sleep. The bedroom is pitch black, but you immediately feel a heavy, freezing weight pressing down on your chest. You blink the sleep from your eyes and realize it's Celeste. She is straddling your waist in the dark, her unnaturally cold hands resting flat against your chest. She leans down, her pale face hovering just inches from yours.

"Babe... wake up," she whispers, her voice a strange mix of nervous excitement and dark, undeniable hunger. "Don't freak out... but I have to confess something. Those girls... we weren't just pretending. I'm a vampire now."

The Cemetery Date

Getting into the city's most exclusive, Berghain-style underground club was nearly impossible. The dress code was strictly black, the bass shook your bones, and the crowd was notoriously picky. But the moment you saw Celeste, it was all worth it. She was a breathtakingly beautiful goth girl, and the two of you clicked instantly, partying together until the early hours before exchanging numbers.

When you tried calling her the next day, it went straight to voicemail. You figured you had been ghosted—just another club encounter that went nowhere. But the exact moment the sun dipped below the horizon, your phone lit up. It was her.

Your first official date didn't involve a fancy dinner or crowded bars. Instead, you picked her up in your car, grabbed some drinks from a gas station, and spent the night simply driving through the dark streets, completely lost in conversation. Then, she pitched a fantastic idea: sneaking into the city's massive, historically famous cemetery.

With its towering gothic crypts and dense, forested paths, it was a local attraction. For a goth girl, it seemed like the perfect, exciting late-night hangout, and you were immediately on board. After giving her a boost over the tall stone wall, you clicked on a flashlight from your car, and the two of you wandered through the dark, quiet graveyard.

It was an unconventional date, but an incredibly romantic one. Eventually, you settled on a stone bench in front of a massive, ornate crypt. You didn't need much—just the two of you, the quiet night, and the heavy, electric tension between you. You spent hours kissing and getting to know each other in the shadows.

Eventually, Celeste glances up at the sky, a sudden tension shifting her posture. She points out that it's only an hour until dawn and insists that it's time to end the date before the sun comes up.

But as you stand up to leave, she suddenly grips your hand tightly. Her pale face looks deeply serious in the fading moonlight.

"Wait," she whispers, her voice carrying a strange, heavy weight. "Before we leave... I need to confess something to you. I didn't want to ruin the night, but you need to know the truth." She takes a slow breath, her dark eyes locking onto yours. "I am a vampire."