i currently had this posted with my poetry thread but thought it might be better to have it seperate. so here you are. i'm posting in chapters so some are long and some a re extremely short but it is unfinished. i know in my community page i have another piece entitled this but that title suits this better, i think and this is sort of derived from that anyway.
my first attempt at an almost horror piece so be gentle with my baby. plz. but advice and suggestions are welcome.
Choices. There’s many different types of choices and each is based on a different reasoning which lead to differing results and consequences. There’s the choice of what you will have for breakfast; toast or cereal? Or whether or not you will wear the black top or the white top. But these are simple insignificant choices to me. For I am the result of an important choice misjudged. I was given a choice on a night a long time ago.
I chose life not death. I refuse to return to the darkness from where I was plucked some two hundred years ago. Two hundred years. It seems a long time to the human mind but it isn’t really. Two hundred years is only a pin prick in the hole of eternity. And eternity is as long as I am deemed to walk this earth. But I’ve often wondered. Is it my eternity? Or is it eternity as it seems to everyone else? My eternity appears like a tapestry. It is many threads woven together to form one final product. Threads cross over each other and work through each other and it’s when you come to one of these many crossroads in a life you incur choices that need to be made to continue on travelling along your path. But it was when I reached one of these crossroads of my life that I made the wrong choice and now I live and walk the earth for eternity as a consequence of that bad choice . . . . . .
August 27th, 2005, 01:46 AM
The winter of 2000. I had just finished rehearsals at the theatre and picking up my bag walked out through the foyer doors. The cold wind lashed, hungrily at my skin. The snow had fallen all day, leaving a thick white sheet over the city. I pulled my coat around my tired shoulders and holding my hat down on my head, trudged down the front steps of the theatre and headed on home. My feet crunched through the snow. My exhausted legs, carrying a tired body. A car screeched to a halt at the traffic lights allowing me to cross. It wasn’t a long walk to the bus stop and I made it there soon enough. Shrugging my bag from my shoulders I slouched down onto the seat, digging my hands deep into my pockets in an attempt to make them warmer. The street lights flickered to life, above, lighting the dark street. The bus came soon after, it headlights appearing, blindingly, around the corner.
You meet some strange people on the bus. I took my usual seat near the back of the bus. Walking down the isle I passed a couple of teenage girls, giggling and gossiping. They were pointing to some man in the back corner. He didn’t seem to mind. Sitting down only a few seats in front of him, I leant my back against the fogy window and studied him. He was slightly different from all the other men I’d seen before, although how exactly I could not tell. He was wearing a black over coat and black boots. He had long black hair tied back into a pony tail, covered about half way down with a piece of dark, leather looking material. I turned with my back to him. He didn’t feel right. Fumbling through my bag I drew out my script and began going through my lines. “I need to know how you feel. To comfort you. Please. I miss your touch. I miss your gentle chuckles when I told a pointless joke or made a fool of myself. Don’t you remember? . . . . ” Words merged and lines disappeared into nothingness. I put the script back in my bag, after one day of non stop rehearsals my mind had had enough.
I turned my attention instead the girls near the front of the bus. They were dressed in a uniform from the local school. Blue and white tartan skirt with a blue jumper. Black beanies, gloves and stocking. They had given up on the man in the corner and chosen to return to their magazines. Giggling and gossiping; they got off at the next stop.
The bus was quiet and empty except for me and the man in the corner. Looking out the window, I reached up to press the bell but it wasn’t my hand that touched the button first; it was his. Fumbling for my bag I got up as the bus pulled up at my stop. I hopped off the bus, landing in a pile of freshly fallen snow. Sinking slowly into the cold wet slosh. Reaching the path I began to walk towards my house, my now wet jeans and boots squelching beneath me. Reaching the front door I reached into my pocket for my keys.
Opening the door and stepping inside to the warmly lit hallway I let out a sigh of relief as the sting on my cheeks gradually faded. I walked upstairs, slowly, taking in the smell of hot food in the kitchen, the warm furry smell of the hall rug. I entered my bedroom and shrugging off my bag collapsed on my bed. I simply lay there. I don’t remember how long. But it was all too soon when I got up to get changed and it was then it happened. Everything stopped.
The lights dimmed. I shivered slightly at the sudden chill creeping up my spine. Something was not right. My body positioned itself into a fighting stance as I strained to hear a sound. Any indication that it was only my imagination but none came. In fact no sound came. A cold wind slapped against my face. I turned to face the figure now sitting in my window box. The man from the bus stared back at me, unblinkingly. Slowly he rose, lifting his head to reveal a face but it was not the face I had imagined. It was not old or tired and wain like I had imagined but young and strong. He looked no more than nineteen. My body tensed as my feet slowly shuffled to prepare the body for the first blow but none came. He just stood staring at me. It was when his eyes met mine and I saw the glimmer of satisfaction I knew he had not come to for my family but had come for me. Although at the time, I did not know why. But it was not long after I opened a whole new door to my history. My past, present and future were to be governed by this one moment in time.
“Mary.” Mum knocked on the door. I turned but a hand grabbed my arm. It pulled me back to stare at the man’s face. He shook his head placing his finger over his lips. I nodded and he disappeared.
“Mary?” I opened the door.
“Dinner in five minutes, okay?” I nodded but she did not move. She peered over my shoulder and shook her head. “No wonder it’s so cold in here. Why is the window open?” she walked across the room and closed the window just as the door closed behind me. She turned to leave but would never leave that room again. He stood over her. She didn’t scream instead she tensed and her eyes turned black. I’ll never forget that moment. Her eyes were black as night, mystifying and deadly. The man swiped his hand across her face, so hard it snapped her neck. I was shaking. It happened too fast to pick up. I watched as my mother fell the floor, never to rise again.
He turned around to face me.
“Pack. Now.” he ordered. And I obeyed. I still don’t know why I didn’t fight back. I don’t know why I simply obeyed his orders. And that was it. I never saw that room again. I never saw my family again, not for many years anyway. The choice I made that night to go with the man from the bus changed my life for all eternity and now I pay the price for not fighting back.
I was innocent then but not anymore. . . . . . .
August 27th, 2005, 12:32 PM
First imression: excellent.
With a little polish I think you may have something here. There were a few grammatical nits such as...
which lead to differing results and consequences leads?
the hole of eternity should this be whole of eternity? Or maybe it is hole if you mean like a black hole?
One piece of advice I find myself coming back to more and more (as it haunts me in my own writing) is that what you have so far seems to be a rather generic plot for a vampire horror story. I've read a lot of storys about quasi-immortal vampires going on about how much life sucks (no pun intended). What this means to me as a reader is that I'll be willing to go only so far with the story until I expect to see some kind of original twist.
I find it a little odd how the character describes the events in the second part as a "choice." I think - as young as she seems - she would be likely to have seen her mother's murder and her kidnapping as choices made on her part. But I would think that after having had 200 years or so to reflect on it, she might see this more objectively - as being forcefully kidnapped. Either way it's an interesting statment about the character to look at the events that way. Perhaps now she's so powerful that she sees every thing that's happened to her as a choice? Intriguing.
Keep going with it.
August 27th, 2005, 01:58 PM
Sorry but can I point out that we ask members to post their work in the community section, as you have done with our other pieces, then link to their work from the community section for critique - saves on space :) Thanks.
October 1st, 2005, 06:21 AM
Evil: The Creation
Toy, he said his name was and that’s what everyone called him. It was only later that I found out why. He took me to the edge of town. We stopped just outside the entrance to the forest. Toy turned to me.
“Drop it.” he said. I dropped my bag on the ground. Toy picked it up and threw my wallet, keys and phone on the wet ground before handing the bag back. I pulled it onto my shoulders as Toy lead me into the forest. We walked for hours, but it never got any lighter. I guessed it was about 8am before we stopped. The forest continued to get darker although the day wore on and the vegetation was not dense above my head. Finally, Toy handed me a water bottle. I sniffed it but it didn’t smell different so I drank eagerly. I dropped my bag down and sat on a stump. I looked up to ask Toy where we were going but he wasn’t there. Toy had disappeared.
“Toy.” I stood up quickly and positioned my body for a fight but it never came. Toy walked up behind me tapping my shoulder.
“Don’t fret Mary, we’ll be there soon.” I let out a breath I had been unknowingly holding.
“Where?” I asked but Toy had begun walking. Swiping up my bag I hurried after him. “Where are we going?” My fear of him had all but vanished and was quickly replaced with curiosity. He did not answer my question, instead he continued walking in silence.
It felt like hours and it must have been because Toy stopped and told me I should sleep a little. Dropping my bag I pulled out a coat and huddled into it. The soft fur caressed my hands as I snuggled down. Toy stood nearby, his back turned to me. I studied him again. His body seemed in good shape, his hair was still tied back with a black leather band. He turned to look at me.
“Don’t worry little pet, just sleep. Nothing in this forest will hurt you while I’m here.” I accepted it and snuggled further down into my coat to keep warm. I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to engulf me.
I felt a hand stroking my hair away from my face. I rolled over and opened my eyes. Toy’s face was staring at mine. He was so close I could feel his breathe on my skin. He ran his finger over the tattoo on my neck.
“When did you get that?” I edged my body up onto my arm and he moved back.
“My mother has one. I got mine for my sweet sixteen, last month.”
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. Mother wouldn’t tell me but she said she has one and her mother had one. It’s tradition, she said. So I got one too. Why?” Toy stood up, shaking his head.
“Nothing.” he muttered. “I’ll explain later. But you need to change and eat.”
With that he left. I changed and ate the food he’d left me. He soon returned and handed me a black strip of leather.
“Put out your wrist” he said and I did. He tied the leather around loosely around it.
“What is it?” I asked as I leant down to pick up my bag. But Toy still had my hand. I stood back up and looked at him. He took a step closer to me. I watched his eyes change from dark brown to pitch black. Those black eyes don’t scare me now but they did then. I felt myself shake as he pulled my hair back from my face. A small whimper escaped my mouth.
“Hush now Mary.” His voice was deep, caressing my face as he tilted my chin back. My eyes closed. My mouth fell open slightly as he supported my head. His breath was hot on my neck. I did not struggle or try to fight I simply let his strength wash over me. I felt a sharp sting and then I felt nothing. He did not remove blood but rather he gave me his blood. My head spun as my body, slowly collapsed into his. He kissed my neck and withdrew his face. His eyes returned to the deep brown they had been only a few minutes before.
I don’t remember anything from then on. Nothing. At least not until we arrived. . . . .