I had set this apart from the other post since this is an idea I want to keep.

Vampires seem to be done too cliché these days, and I want to liven them up.

Here's the basic plot, and an excerpt of what I hope to be my first novel:

The days of human life have been usurped by the vampire race. Military action is useless against the multitude they had grown to. War would mean the total destruction of the human population. All that is left to do, is live in what the vampires called "harmony"; which was much more like a broken system where humans had to fight to become of any worth in society. The humans and vampires resided in little segregation when rich humans were able to enroll into their schools, or get a decent career. Some of the indigenous race had given up, taking the 50% chance of death to become one of them. Others had been radicals, terrorists who secretly plan to wipe out the vampires.

But, lately in the city of Milwaukee, near the coast of Lake Michigan, vampire killings have nearly tripled over a course of six months. Security on humans increased, but the death total had only grown stronger. Humans of all kinds scream of joy in this, but the vampires aren't liking it. Who is the culprit behind these killings? Why are they doing this to the vampires?
--------------------------------------
T.T sorry for the wait, I just don't know how I want the excerpt to flow. I know what I want to happen, I just can't produce it! X_O So, random lines from the story? Yes.

All I could bare do to was watch the side-way rain of blood, as it had stretched and capsize under the Earth's gravity. There were no sound of foot steps, or life for that matter. The smell of blood hadn't been in the air yet, as if the blood had been spurted out of some unlucky person so fast, the smell didn't reach the air just quite yet. The red puddles around me bubbled, then the lava cooled. But, before I my fear-stricken eyes could afford a blink, a man dressed in all black appeared in front of me, only a knife at hand. . .
The blood...it didn't stop...
We had the land, they had guidelines. Now we have nothing, and they stole all we ever fucking had.
(excerpt might still be added...).
Well, good news, bad news:
Good news is, I found a title : DDracula's Cousin
Bad news is, excerpt is still in the works : (
I know the sounds a bit eh, but it'll be explained throughout the book.
P.S. If you read, seen, or heard a very similar plot to this, tell me. I don't want to plagiarize, es-epically when I don't know! DX

My Birth

The endless days end with the slight distaste to continuity. Lone I must be, since if I allow myself to be together, I fear that what makes me will fall apart. The machine in me knows if life shall end, it will end as quickly as it had began. Spontaneously inaccurate and untraceable, without meaning or reason to back up such unbridled gesture of the universe.

Am I spontaneous...can I be inaccurate? Sick and well I am right now, and I fear my life will not last more than what they have told me. No one ever remembers me, more so, who I am. I quiet passerby I am and usually keep a fancy to, since if you get too attached you are bound to lose. My eyes are seeing things others purposely ignore to mention; to start conversation. But, what is a conversation anyway? Talking to someone over things you could simply hold in then burst out in an intense kaleidoscope of brazen reason? What is pain these days anyway; simple frowns which can easily be cured by something as a therapist?

Who are we, the people, to blamed who we wish? We are born on a day, we never forget it since it is mentioned over and over and over. But how important is the day to you?..It's when you were born, when you first entered the world...seems like a primary milestone to death for me. But, why celebrate death? Why be so joyous about another year that your life has uselessly passed by with little to no advancement?

All life and births are random and useless. Random and useless things that had happened out of obscurities people try to mock as "fate" or "destiny". All things are useless. Random born shot killed made loved hurt wanted desired left gone. All things are nothing. All things shouldn't exist. All things shouldn't care...all things are of mirth, and sadness.

Which is why, by my thoughts, life is nothing to celebrate.