12-12-2008, 05:51 AM
Ok so I am working on this story and I have major writers block. I have a good sized first chapter/prolouge and about half of the next part but I really don't know where I want it to go next. It is about vampires and I love the characters I have created and they have been with me in my dreams for years and I recently decided to write their story down however, and yes I do know I am reiterting, I just dont know what I want to do now. The next pice of this post is the first chapter/prolouge and comments, constructive critisim, and suggestions ARE very much appriciated. thanks to everyone who takes the time to read this very long post.
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ONE
Ugh, I hate it when they run. It sounds like the thunder from a stampede of elephants. That’s the downfall you know, to supersensitive hearing, no matter how loud or quiet a sound is it’s like there’s a speaker turned all the way up amplifying any and all sound in your ear. No matter, a simple whisper to her mind and the running stops and she returns to me like a good little girl. We walk hand in hand towards a park bench and sit down together, one more whisper and she is asleep in my arms. As a general rule, one should never walk in Central Park alone late at night… but then again, if no one did, how would I ever get to eat? In the shadows, I study her sleeping face and she looks almost angelic, almost. Her hair is the color of gold and falls in long soft ringlets down her back, and her eyes (when they’re open) are like the eyes of Sapphire but not quite; they are like the deepest part of the ocean just as blue and just as cold.
Yet as with most things the beauty is only a shroud for the ugliness that lies beneath, within the soul. This one looks like a beauty queen; she is tall and thin with a perfect face, and she never lets anyone forget it. She may look like the fairy tale princess locked in her tower but no, she is the evil queen who holds the key. Looking down from her lofty perch, she turns up her nose at all the “peons” and those less beautiful and less wealthy than she. In her mind her beauty is a status symbol.
Ah well, I’ll make it so she harbors no such delusions anymore. No she is in no way superior… she is prey, I am the predator. In a moment of sharp and delicious pain my fangs descend from where they hide normally into sight. I like to be sweet to my meal before I kill it, some will just go straight for jugular and enjoy the meal. No, I’m not like that. I kiss the poor girls neck and smell the perfume of the blood pulsing through her veins before, without warning, my fangs pierce the fragile skin over the pulsing artery.
Do you wish to know a little secret? I’m sure you do. You humans fight and scream and run until the moment I live for comes, that moment when the blood flows from victim to vampire, in that moment the victims learn that they love it, want it, and in those few moments it takes to drain them, they find their last moments of bliss. I know you doubt me but trust me on this… unless you want to find out for your self? Heh, I thought not.
However, again I find a drawback in my immortal life. As the blood flows from her veins past my lips, her memories pass from her mind to mine. I hate that part of the meal, it’s more of an involuntary reaction and I can’t stand it. I don’t want to see how much the little beauty queen’s boyfriend loves her, or thinks he does anyway. I don’t want to see the Princess’s fifth birthday party, her first day at college and the pride in her parents’ eyes. No I do not want to see that; all I want is to live and rejoice in the moment of her death, but this is the price I pay for my thirst. Finally the wretched slideshow stops and the girl slumps, limp in my arms. After pricking my finger and sealing the wound with a drop or two of my own blood, I’ve decided to leave her in a church I spy in the area; the priest will find her in the morning and notify the authorities.
Let me tell you, there are few things in this world that can even remotely compare to the feeling of taking flight. In my human life I always admired the birds for that and envied them for that freedom, and now I posses it too. I posses the power to take flight, to be free of gravity and all the natural laws that keep the mortal tethered to the earth. It’s all I’ve craved all my mortal life and now thanks to my Dark Lady, I have it. Not only is flight pure freedom, it’s also raw power and has allowed me to see the world like no one else. Usually I’d go and sit in one of my favorite spots like the spire on the Empire State Building or the roof of the Tracy Towers and enjoy a full view of either Manhattan or the Bronx, but this night I am quite tired and just want to go home to my bed… yes dear reader I did say “bed”. It’s a myth that we sleep in coffins by day. I personally sleep in a wrought-iron four-poster bed with iron ivy twining up it and forming the head and foot boards. The theme of ivy echoed in the curtains, on the bed and windows and in the bedding with a black background and twining emerald green ivy all over the fabric
As I’m sure you’ve noticed I did say “home”. The other myth that my kind confines ourselves to the graveyards, sewers and crypts is also false. I personally live in a lovely gothic-style home with three floors and turrets and many gardens and orchards on and around my property. My house always has the light sent of lavender throughout its many rooms. Lavender is a sent I had always loved in my human life and it was a love I took with me in my death. My room, in the highest turret, is a round room with large panoramic windows at each of the four compass points. Through the north, south, and western windows all you see is a vast sprawling forest and to the east (my favorite window) you see the Atlantic over the trees; that vast blue body in all its terrible beauty and splendor.
On my land I remain undisturbed. I live in the middle of the woods and while an occasional real estate agent attempts to get me to sell I refuse. What need have I of money? Besides I like it here. I have had this land for over two hundred years and while I admit I don’t always reside here, it is my sanctum, my refuge and I refuse to let it go. I imagine I shall hold this land until the end of time. But I digress; I change direction in the air and head east to Long Island and fly all the way to the southern tip, to find my home in a secluded and wooded area in the Hamptons.
Now I am by no means stupid enough to tell you exactly where I sleep, because what if you are one not sympathetic to my kind? What if you wish to hunt and kill us? If I did such a thing as tell you the town I live in you could find me and attempt to kill me, not that you could, but you might be fool enough to try and I do try so hard to refrain from bloodshed in my home… I don’t want to stain my carpets.
Finally I arrive home and alight softly in my room in the top of the eastern turret. I decide to fight my weariness and stay up to watch the sun rise with the coming dawn. That’s another illusion I will shatter for you; the safety you humans find in the sunlight, garlic, crucifixes, holy water, and other blessed items is completely false and an illusion created by my kind, those things hold no sway and will not deter us form our prey... I tend to find it amusing when a terrified victim will make the sign of the cross and hold out their crucifix to banish me… I really can’t help but laugh in the face of my ignorant prey. In the words of Master Shakespeare’s Puck “What fools these mortals be!” To think that a trinket and the “power of God” may deter me from my hunt, HA! No we are truly immortal unless one of our own kills another and an ancient of my kind at that, they are the only ones with power enough to do it so that the target stays dead.
I decide to watch the sunrise over the ocean though my eastern window. And as the sun begins its morning assent, coloring the sky with shades found nowhere else and are indescribable, I can hear one of the few vampires I trust enough in this world to be my friend and housemate arrive back at home with a soft thud on his balcony. He really is rather young. My Rafael has only been a vampire for one hundred years or so but he is very well suited to this immortal life. Rafael is a type of man rarely ever found in our world… he is a good man. He will perpetually be a devilishly handsome and extremely sensual Hispanic man in his early twenties. Rafael is tall, six foot four, with caramel skin barely paled by his vampirism. He had chocolate eyes when he was alive; he showed me their color once with a glamour. A power my kind has, we can use it to make others see what we want them to see and not as they really are. His hair is long, silky, curly, and as black as my beloved night. He is very muscular, because he was a soldier in his human life, a very good one at that. I suppose that is why he drew the attention of Vladimir’s kin. He was created into the house of Garnet but being a decent man, he soon tired of the barbarism and bloodshed Garnet’s are so known for. Well, chosen for really. And decided to seek out a member of my mysterious and free house, The House of Amethyst, where we all do and live as we please, not to please anyone else in the stupid hierarchy that has been created in my world of shadows. His search led him to my hunting grounds in New York City. We have been virtually inseparable for the almost eighty years that we have been companions and sometime lovers. There have been times we have gone our separate ways, not knowing if we’d ever see each other again, but somehow after a few years we always seem to find one another and be reunited once more. We are like magnets; we are opposites yet we cannot stand to be apart from one another and will fight all obstacles to be together again.
I turn briefly to see him entering my room and notice he has his eyes glamoured to a deep purple matching my own, my eyes are deeper purple than any other Amethyst so its is quite noticeable that he is matching me rather then sticking with his usual lighter Amethyst purple to cover his true eye color, a brilliant Garnet red. He hides his eyes because he wants nothing to do with his old house and its bloody wars and uprisings. I turn back to the window, and Rafael’s arms, warm from his feeding slowly wrap around my waist. My arm curls up over my head and around the back of his strong neck and the other holds his hands around my middle and I lean against him. Soon his lips make a trail up my neck beginning at my alabaster throat, up my jaw line, to breathe in my ear “how was your hunt tonight Moira? Did you catch one of your wicked little girls again?” “Of course I did, there is no shortage of spoiled little daddy’s girls in that city. And how was your hunt my love?” I hear him chuckle and he gives me a little squeeze “alright, I was in the mood for bear tonight so I flew up to Alaska and brought down a few polar bears.” I see his reflection in the glass, he is grinning in such a way that I know he is remembering his meal and says “I love bears…they put up such a fight!” My Rafe sometimes enjoys animal blood instead of human; it’s almost as satisfying and the slideshow that plays with an animal is far less to absorb and far less complicated then one from a human victim. Sometimes I wonder if it’s smarter to live that way but I just can’t stand to leave the pleasures of human blood behind me.
Lightning fast I spin around in his loose grip and throw my arms around his neck and kiss my sometimes lover fiercely. I can still taste the meal on his tongue as he returns my kiss as surely as he can taste mine. Pulling away slightly he looks down at me smiling, “and what was that for miss?” I laugh and say “because I wanted to!” and flashed him a sly, sexy smirk… we have been together long enough for him to know what that smile means. Laughing he steps backward slowly until we tumble onto my bed where together we stay until noon, when we finally slip into a dream filled sleep.
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If you still with me.. thanks so much for reading.. DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT! Thanks everyone.
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