Original Works



I live in a world where the sun never comes up, and the smell of leaking gas lingers in the air. The ground is always wet from the thin mist, and the people rarely take their baths. But I’m a Nicholaitan, and I belong to a special group of people.

We ink our skin with the words of our doctrine. We live, breathe, eat, and think of what is right in our minds. Anyone who fails to accept us are small minded fools whose lives value not a single penny. What we say is the truth, and if we are challenged we will fight to the death.

Our code of honour is to uphold our belief, to prosecute those who do not fear us, to punish those who run from us, to alienate those who abandoned us, and to be the ultimate kind in this dark world.

But I… I don’t want to be a Nicholaitan anymore.

They say you live your beliefs, and I have been living by this doctrine my whole life. I have destroyed relationships, tortured innocents, slain children, and I was told I was right. Honestly, I believed I was…. until my sister ran away.

She was ten and she hated who we were. I would threaten her to silence whenever she entertained thoughts of fleeing, but I never understood why until she disappeared.

Every Nicholaitan was out on a manhunt to track down this young girl. She was considered as a runner as she had yet taken the official vow. They were planning on punishing her in a way so brutal that dried my throat when I heard it. I was in more shock when my parents agreed to it. They were willing to let their own child be tied to a pole and whipped a hundred times because it was their doctrine.

But that… that did not sit right with me. She was a confused child who needed a little guidance, but the ways of the Nicholaitans promoted pain and suffering. If I even tried to convince them otherwise, I would be alienated like an abandoner. Was that what I really wanted?

The day they found my sister, they beat her up and threw her into a hole in the ground. They left her there while they prepared her real punishment. They did not feed her, and they ignored her cries. Some nights, I was ordered to guard her hole, and on those nights I feel my insides crushing. It became so hard to bear that I decided to help her escape. Helping a runner escape meant death for me. But my plan was not to stick around, it was to run with her.

One night, while I was the only one on duty, I lowered a rope and told her to climb up. When I finally saw her face under the pale street lamp, I brushed off the dirt on her cheeks and handed her a bag of supplies.

She looked at me confused and asked, “What are you doing?”

“We’re running,” I said.

“They’ll kill you,” she stated.

“I know,” I replied as I grabbed her hand and led her out of the light.

She did not say anything as we crawled through a stinking sewer, sneaked down a mice infested alley, climbed up to the old rooftops, and hurried to a boat that was setting sail that night.

When we finally reached the empty dock, I helped my sister into a small boat that carried rotten fishes. The owner did not wait for me to have both feet in the boat before he started to sail. As I stumbled on board, I didn’t blame him. He knew his life was at risk and he didn’t want to waste any time.

The journey on the boat was a rather long one. The dead silence was almost soothing, except the stench on the boat made me want to gag. When the boat finally stopped at another dock, the owner grunted for us to get off. We did not hesitate as we climbed onto the old creaking wood and disappeared into the mist.

We were now on our own, but we were far away from the monstrous cult. My plan was to find a new civilization that would ignore the ink on my skin and accept my sister and me. I have not found one yet, but I am still looking.

They say you live your beliefs, but they also say your belief would either save you or destroy you. I don’t think they meant it in the physical way, but I think they were referring to what was inside the shell of this body.

I’m glad I ran… I’m glad I chose my sister’s belief. Did I forget to mention that a Nicholaitan could only die in the flames of fire? Oh, I’m glad alright.


I admit, this is a strange story. Don’t ask me what a Nicholaitan is, because I don’t know. At the end of the story, I wondered if they were actually vampires, but I still can’t confirm that. Yes, I wrote this story… but sometimes, it’s o.k not to know everything 🙂

Anyways, this is inspired by a new message series in my church. We all have a doctrine we live by; a teaching and a belief system that could be political, religious, scientific or philosophical. What we fail to realize is that we live our beliefs, and our beliefs could either save us or destroy us.

I’m not here to tell you what you should believe in, I’m just here to encourage everyone to be careful in choosing a belief. As Dumbledore once said, “It is our choices that determine what we are,” and our choices are made from our beliefs. So, choose wisely dear reader…

As always, let me know what you think of this short story in the comments below! I do hope the after taste isn’t too bizarre.

© 2013 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

She Died For Empty Promises

Sasha sat waiting. He was late again. How could a guy be late for every single date? And how did she managed to forgive him every time?

Yes, he was perfect, with dark hair and mysterious eyes, but his apologies were always so false. Sasha wondered how long she could keep going, being with a guy who never kept to his words. Empty promises was his middle name, Damon ‘Empty Promises’ Salvatore.

Sasha laughed to herself as she thought of his name. She’ll have to tell him his new name once he showed up. But when he did, he gave her no room to speak. He apologized, once again for being late, and told her he couldn’t go out that night.

“Why?” Sasha asked in frustration.

‘”Something came up,” Damon answered quickly, as though he was in a hurry to leave. “Look, I’m sorry. Another night ok love?”

“What? No,” Sasha was a on the verge of screaming at him. But when he locked his eyes on hers, she felt as though she could let this one slide; as though it didn’t really matter.

Damon, seeing the change of her expression gave her a kiss on the forehead and left. Sasha stood in place for a few minutes before realizing she had forgiven Mr. Empty Promises again. How did she do it? Sasha never knew.

Sasha walked home that night. The clear night sky twinkled with stars, and as the cool breeze brushed through her hair, she felt at peace. But peace was short-lived when she heard a scream.

The echoes of a young girl’s screams sent birds out of their nests. Sasha had to stop briefly, thinking if she should run or get help.

Get help. Sasha was determined. She was the girl who never left a kitten in a tree or let a freshman get bullied. She was the girl who stood up for those in need, and the girl she heard was indeed in need.

Sasha ran down the empty street, but to her surprise, no one was around. She decided to head to the police station when someone grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into an alley. For a brief moment, she thought she had just made herself a victim, but she was proven wrong when she saw that it was Damon.

“Go home now!” Damon ordered her.

“What is going on?” Sasha asked.

“It’s not safe. You have to go home.” Damon shook her by her shoulders, but Sasha was stubborn as a mule.

“Tell me what’s going on!” Sasha demanded.

Damon tried to lock his eyes on hers but Sasha looked away. Every time he did that, she somehow obeyed him. This time she wasn’t falling for it.

But before Damon could answer, someone spoke from behind her, “Found yours already?”

Damon didn’t respond and Sasha turned around to see who it was. The girl who spoke had dark hair and green eyes. And what stood out most, was the fangs. Sasha quickly stepped behind Damon, making him her human shield.

The girl narrowed her eyes at Damon. “Let her be, she’s of no trouble,” Damon said.

“How can we? She knows,” the girl said with a devilish smile.

Sasha watched as a few more others came to join them. They had lusting looks on their faces and, to no surprise, fangs. Yes, fangs. Sasha had to convince herself over and over again that she wasn’t dreaming.

“Is she your girlfriend Salvatore?” a boy with blond hair asked. “She smells tasty!”

“Leave her be, or i’ll snap your head off.” Damon held his ground as the human shield.

“Pretty boy protecting a human?” the blond boy mocked as he backed away.

Damon turned his head slightly and whispered, “When I say run, you run. Understand?”

“No, I’m not leaving without you,” Sasha replied, voice shaking in fear.

“If you don’t listen to me, you’ll die,” Damon said bluntly.

“Promise me then that I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sasha said, in fear that she would not see Damon again.

“I promise,” Damon said, squeezing her hand.

Sasha returned the squeeze and waited for his commands.

“I’ll say it again, leave her be, or i’ll kill you all,” Damon bravely said to the vampire pack.

But his bravery was met with laughter. “You’re wrong. We’ll kill you AND that bloody human!” The girl with green eyes laughed as she charged towards them.

“RUN!” Damon ordered and Sasha did as she was told.

Damon fought through the angry, blood thirsty vampire pack, paving a way for Sasha to run. When she had finally escaped the raging blood suckers, she made a big mistake. She stopped. She stopped and looked back. Damon was already buried under the pack, and when one of them saw her standing and watching, he charged at her.

There was no way she could out run him as he threw his body on top of her. Sasha struggled to free herself from his clutches as he pinned her down, but she was merely human. She watched as his fangs grew longer and before she could scream she was dead.

Damon was left in the alley as he slowly recovered from his wounds. But the wounds that could never heal was the ones in his heart.

Though it was hard to believe, Damon did love Sasha. She was the only girl who made him feel human enough. Human enough to love. But now that she was dead, he decided to stop believing in that word. Love became a fantasy and fantasies do not last.

Damon could not bring himself to look at her mangled body, nor could he cry as anger at himself and his kind slowly built up. They were savage beasts, not worthy of human emotions. Why must he ever feel again?

Retreating to the abandoned warehouse he stayed in, he knew it was time to leave this town. But he still had one more thing to do.

Damon took out his diary and wrote:

“August 5th 1980

She died. She died for empty promises. I won’t let that happen again.”