I Hate You, Sweetheart.

Before we start, let me promise you something. 

I don't have spock ears.

Spock ears. A common misconception of elves; derived from twisted human fairytales.

Trust me, I really don't have them. No elven girl or boy does. 

Yes, I am an elf. (They exist.) 

All elves and beings of the magical realm are sworn to secrecy from the humans.

Humans. I cringed mentally. I hated those humans!

If they got themselves involved with us... I don't know what would happen. They always find a way to screw everything up. They'd probably try shooting us with their guns until they realized our skin is bulletproof.

If the humans found out we, and various other magical groups existed, they'd probably declare war on us. And then they would loose. 

But for now, we'd rather have them think they are the strongest group of creatures on earth. It's easier that way.

I traced my finger nail across my wrist gently and sighed as the pale, fragile skin easily split, a single drop of silver blood leaking out. I wiped the blood away, and the cut closed quickly. Being an elf had it's pros and cons. 

My skin was awfully prone to injury, although the cut healed in a matter of seconds.

And my skin was also resistant to bullets. All elf skin was; we adapted to it. 

In the early ages, the number of elves were small, so the first King decided to shoot every elf, twice a week (but not through the heart or head or anything.) Slowly (and with magical help), elven skin began to develop a resistancy to bullets. It was a safety precaution back then; but now we have a good number of elfs and the bullet resistant skin is just like an extra plus.

I'm just glad I wasn't alive in the early days.

I really do wish I was a little more tanned though. My skin was almost very pale, almost translucent, and held a strange glowing quality. My soft, thin wavy hair was a deep red, almost purple like, and my eyes a dark; cofee colored brown.

Overall, I was rather dull looking.

My best friend, Selma, had beautiful caramel colored skin, light brown eyes, and the prettiest, straight brown hair. 

But she wasn't the elven princess. Which, I guess, could be taken as good or bad. 

I always got yelled at as the heir to the throne. I was supposed to be more responsible. I was scorned upon by the elves, anyway. They loved my mother and father and hated me.

At my age, 18, I should already be wearing dresses and putting on makeup, learning how to dance.

I have never touched an ounce of makeup in my life & didn't plan on it.

And usually I just hung around with Selma and my other friends, going to the mall, the beach, the park, whatever.

This is why the public hated me. They were scared I wouldn't make a good future queen. I kind of agreed with them anyway. 

But I decided to think about being queen later, after my parents died. 

Which would probably be in another few thousand years or so.

Elves age very slowly; the human year/elf year ratio wasn't set in stone, but basically, I've been 18 for a long time.

Vampires age the same exact way.