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Hm. I wonder if it'd be alright to post my own story...meh. It isn't completely about Vampires, though. There is a vampire girl in it, but it doesn't just revolve around her...there's a demon, the Grim Reaper, and another spirit involved.
Would it be okay, do you think, to post that? (I'm not completely finished with the first part yet, though. xP)

Yeah, I know it's gorey. Obviously I pulled off the gore well. xd

Okay, so I'll post it part-by-part. Part One isn't completely finished, so I will keep adding things.
Keep in mind; it's supposed to be funny, and will be in later parts. Many of thte realistic characters and things I have used will be warped as I wish.

D.O.A.

“Genna, I think I’m going to die.”
The nurse glanced at the old man. He did look sickly, but she chuckled anyway, patting his hand. “Don’t be silly, Marcus.”
“I’m seeing things,” he said, shuddering. “I saw the Grim Reaper last night, he was taking George’s soul. He looked at me as if to say I was next.”
Genna sighed, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t talk that way, Marcus. Do you need anything?”
“My life.”
“Marcus…” she grumbled, leaving the room.
“No, Genna! Don’t leave me!” he cried, reaching for her, but she was already out of the room and down the hallway. Marcus whimpered, pulling the covers up to his chin. It was dark, darker than normal, even. He shivered.
“Marcus Smith,” a voice said from the inky blackness, “I have come for thee.”
“No!” he sobbed, “no!”
The blackness formed into a robe, a scull jeering at him. “Marcus, don’t waste my time.” A black hole was formed, and the Grim Reaper motioned toward it. “Hurry up, now. You aren’t my only visit tonight.”
“No! No, I won’t go! It isn’t my time! It isn’t my time!”
“Denial,” the skull sighed, then disappeared into the hole. The room was less dark, though the hole stayed. Marcus stared at it, shaking, hugging the blanket up to his chin. Out of nowhere, a pitchfork stabbed at Marcus, and he cried out in pain. A small, yellow-gray face appeared from the hole, beaming. “Got it!” he cried, and tugged at the pitchfork, ripping Marcus’ spirit from his body and leaving the remains with a surprised scream on its face.

Ah-hah!
I'm going to revive this thread with Mary and Joseph!
...no joke.
It's not finished yet, but...xD
I WILL finish this one. I WILL! -forces self-

The Imaginative Minds of Mary and Joseph

It all started with a pebble, a small round pebble with a perfect hole in the center of it. Mary found it while strolling on the beach with her husband, Joseph. She picked it up, dusted it off, and peeked through the hole at Joseph, giggling. They had just gotten married, and her religious parents were astounded at the pair.
“Mary and Joseph? They might as well name their child Jesus,” they would say. Mary thought it might bring them a slight chance of luck, and Joseph always agreed with her. However, the two seemed doomed from the start.
Joseph was a working man who was fine with children but didn’t like animals. Mary was the opposite, so he got her a cat for her birthday. He was in his early thirties, though already balding at the center of his scalp. He was a rather strange man, the kind that would wear socks with sandals to the beach. Joseph was thin and a marvelous swimmer, but had very little upper-body strength. In his sleep, he saw ghosts and dreamed of evil creatures, goblins, and other spirits.
Mary didn’t work, and seemed to be fired from every job she tried to work. She was a sweet, smart girl in her late twenties, but she never did well with others. She didn’t exactly liked children, but loved animals. She liked to wear dresses, bonnets, and old-fashioned things, but they fit her pale skin, fluttering lashes and wavy dark hair. Mary dreamed of fantasy realms and wonderful, pretty lands untouched by man’s steel-toed boots. They were charming dreams, but she could never remember them, unlike Joseph, who would tell his dreams every morning.
They had brought the pebble home with them, using it as a paper weight and eventually it ended up on the shelf above their bed. It was half-over and half-onto the shelf, making it very unstable. When a car crashed outside their home a few nights after, it hit Joseph on the head and woke him up from a particularly nasty dream. He was happy and slipped the rock around his thumb, sleeping with it. He called it a ‘dream-catcher’.
One night, in his sleep, Joseph found himself in one of Mary’s fantasy realms. He was happy it was not the inside of a goblin, so decided to let go of his worries and walk around before he had to go to work.
A small green creature approached him, and he sighed. “Are you a goblin, spirit, or demon?” Joseph asked.
It peered at him. “Well,” it said, “I could be if you wanted me to be. What would you like me to be?”
“Not a goblin, spirit, or demon,” Joseph answered truthfully. The creature frowned, its forehead wrinkled in deep thought.
“That’s a shame,” it sighed, “because I do have goblin in me. My grandfather was a goblin.”
Joseph decided right then he didn’t like the creature, and walked away from it. Its tiny eyes followed him, though the creature didn’t follow.

“I had the strangest dream,” Joseph said during breakfast. “There was a goblin, but it said it wasn’t fully goblin, its grandfather was a goblin.”
“That’s too bad,” Mary sympathized, knowing Joseph was not a fan of goblins.
“That’s not the point, though,” Joseph said strangely, and Mary stared hard at him. “I can’t remember what else happened. That’s the strange part. I woke up feeling wonderful, but because of the goblin I’m feeling rather dull this morning.
“Oh,” Mary said sadly, “I know what you mean. I wake up wonderfully every morning, and I know it’s because of a dream. I never remember what I dream,” she added, as if trying to soothe him.
“I know,” he sighed, “so I might have had the same dream as you, but with a goblin. You know, the goblin said he didn’t have to be a goblin.”
“He did?”
“He did,” Joseph nodded, “he said he could be whatever I wanted him to be. I bet you,” he began gruffly, waving his fork at Mary as she stood over the oven, “that if he hadn’t been a goblin I wouldn’t have remembered him, either.”
“Was it a ‘him’?”
“What?” Joseph asked.
“Was it a ‘him’? Are you sure?”
“It sounded like a ‘him’, not a ‘her’.”
“Oh.”

Thank you! 4laugh heart domokun