Vampire Juice: A Book About Horror For Teens

A Horror Mystery Adventure! Amanda and Sean stumble upon a mysterious can of juice while searching for Halloween costumes at a local store. Despite being kicked out by the sales clerk, they become obsessed with uncovering the truth behind the strange drink. With the help from some local bullies, they sneak back into the store through a crypt in the graveyard, only to find themselves in the midst of a spine-chilling adventure. Note: Previously published on Kindle Vella

Meet Reuben Shupp

Reuben Shupp is the author of Short Stories or Tales, Creepy and Scary Tales, and hs latest, Vampire Juice. He discovered his love of prose when he started writing a memoir for his children. Shupp is passionate about writing horror for middle grade and young adults. https://www, Here is a short section from ‘Vampire Juice.’ This is why no one should get on Amanda’s bad side. “Heads up,” Scott yells. I look at the ceiling. Nothing there but a few spitballs and a baseball card. How did the baseball card get there? Why would he tell me to look at the tiles above my head? I turn in Scott’s direction. A handful of orange slime flies through the air and hits me in the forehead. “Ow.” It does not really hurt. But it is more of a response to the shock than to the pain. I glare at Scott. He sticks out his tongue and shakes his head from side to side. My blood begins to boil. I can feel my ears heating up. That is it. I have had enough of his shenanigans. I stand up for a moment and then sit back down. I am too chicken to do anything. Even though Scott is shorter than me, he could probably beat me up. I do not need any further embarrassment. Amanda rises from her seat and gives me a friendly wink. She stomps over to him and his groupies. They stop laughing. “What do you want?” he demands with a sinister grin. “To give you a present, of course.” Scott raises his eyebrows and folds his arms across his chest. She pulls a bowl full of pumpkin brains from behind her back and dumps it onto Scott’s head. Scott’s eyes bulge as his face twists like a pretzel. Amanda smirks. “I dub thee, The Pumpkin King,” she utters. And that is why no one should get on Amanda’s bad side. I have often wondered why she is never mean to me. “My Lord,” Amanda says with an English accent. She curtsies and walks out of the classroom before Mr. Townsend has a chance to notice.