the figure watched her intently, a small girl with long black hair, wearing a bright yellow summer dress that was starting to turn green, flowing material picking up all the pollen in the air.
This was Annie's favourite place in the world. her grandmothers garden seeming to go on forever, a small plot of cultivated land that held edible plants, a well kept lawn, descending into scrub and weeds. A place of nature loosely kept in check, or at least maintained so that it would not invade the cultured area. It was here that the dragons lived. large, noisy insects that buzzed loudly from plant to plant, going about their business while a fascinated young girl watched. Her gran had told her one day, that they were the children of real dragons millions of years ago when this part of the world was very different. She listened to these stories with fascination, imagining monstrous winged creatures soaring among the clouds, then, if there was still light in the day, weather permitting, she would run out into the garden and look for the insects, imagining them grown huge enough so that she could climb on their back and fly as high as the clouds.
She liked the clouds. They reminded he of so many things, ships, houses, people and sometimes faces that smiled or frowned. Annie preferred the smiley faces to the frowny, white, wispy, fluffy clouds, the grey ones not so much. They reminded her of the tall thin man that sometimes watched her from the shadows of the wood that made up the third part of grannies garden.
The tall man with the grey suit and black hat. she could not see his face but was sure in her heart that he had none. Still, the dragons would protect her, this she knew because her gran told her.
So she played on. chasing dragons and jumping in and out of the tall grass, her progress watched by the figure until it was time to come in. Her gran called her and she ran into the house laughing loudly, slamming the door behind her firmly. Her gran locked it.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Confessions of a vampire: The Mark of Cain (First Draft)
When the Night falls, fur will fly...
When the Moon rises, blood will be spilled...
..and Humanity shall perish.
1
"AM I IN HELL?"
The figure above him answered that yes, he was in hell.
Judas Iscariot closed his eyes.
The figure above him spoke again.
Judas opened his eyes again, this time the figure was clearer, The dark skin and bearded chin framing a gentle smile, while the long dark hair tickled his nose.
He moaned.
'Then why am I seeing my teacher and best friend. If this is indeed hell then I have dammed our Savior to satan's hand.'
'I am not your Savior brother, but one who would give you eternal life on this mortal plane.'
Judas grinned painfully, rose to answer then fell back coughing. His throat hurt.
'I cut you down from the tree before you could leave us. You will heal in time.'
'Why save such a wretched life as mine, surely I deserve death for what I have done.'
'I didn't say anything about saving you Judas.'
2
The sun fell from the sky, exactly on the West point of the compass as it always did at this time of year. Being the longest day, all night creatures slept longer in their burrows, holes and lairs, the intelligent ones dreaming dreams of the past, which, for the darkest and most ancient of them held no mercy.
He arose swiftly from his slumber, dreams and memories of a time when he had last seen such a magnificent light, drawing away from his grasp, the feeling of rough hessian weave on him fading, the sharp pang of his makers teeth on his throat the last sensation to fade as the thirst began throbbing in his chest. He would feed tonight, self imposed fasting ending in the taking of another, an innocent, the only one he would take as an annual reminder of where he had come from, and what he was.
An innocent that awaited for him outside his door.
The grateful villagers had come good again, keeping to the covenant they shared.
3
Animal nature took hold of him.
He awoke, his maker above him, moonlight illuminating the beautiful features.
'You need to be careful with your feeding youngling. Death can still claim you if you drink too much. The heartbeat must slow, but never stop.'
'But we are death father' came the insolent reply
'Typical answer for one new' he sighed 'We are still God's creatures even though we live in his shadow 'Rules must be observed.
'But surely rules are for mortals?'
'We are all mortals in his eyes'
The ancient one watched his younglings thoughts. How they sped through the cold clay of his brain, a fast flowing current of immaturity through a stream, of the overriding, steady beat of the Thirst - Not even slightly slated on his young victims blood.
'I need more'
'Of course you do'
4
He materialized outside the impenetrable granite slap that stood as a door to his resting place, lungs filling with damp night air that held a million scents, each one tantalizing to him. He allowed himself the luxury of a deep breath, drawing everything in to his being.
5
He had never smelled anything like it in his hundred years a vampire.
'What is that horrible stench?'
His maker did not answer strait away, but continued to watch the dance.
'That, youngling, is what we have come to find out' The firelight sparkled in his black eyes as he spoke, gaze never shifting from the scene. It was a marvelous thing to watch, though, somehow it troubled his. The younger could see that it mattered greatly to him, though he did not know why. Humans had never held such fascination before, or trepidation and it troubled him that his father was worried. Why, he thought. It was just drums and dance, nothing they had not seen before, albeit, not in this country, so far from where they had lived before.
'The one who dances' explained his maker, on hearing these thoughts 'is a Shaman, who is invoking the Wolf Spirit Beskarr. A powerful one who may cause us some problems'
'Is this why we left Rome in such a hurry?'
His maker nodded.
'This is why we left our home. To see if the rumours are true'
'And are they, true I mean'
His maker opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak a shout arose from the group.
They had been spotted.
6
A cry, just under mortal ears, came to him from behind a nearby monument.
The darkness blurred then Arthur stood beside the source of the sound, A small tight bundle, cloth soft, rich with vibrant colour only one such as himself could see. It moved faintly, squirming under his gaze as if it knew what was about to happen next. Another cry, louder this time.
7
Events erupted.
His maker was the first to move, toward the fire rather than away from it. Artorius took a moment longer to react, hesitating as to what to do, only becoming animated when his makers voice softly echoed in his head
"We need to stop this, NOW!"
The urgency was lost on him, not knowing why his maker was afraid, only faith that he was doing the right thing finally moving him. He followed, arriving by his makers side quickly, even for a vampire. A quick approving look, then the steel of the charge returned.
8
Arthur knelt down, sitting on his haunches, arms on thighs, with hands dangling off his wrists. The bundle had stopped moving, emitting a last wail before being resigned to its fate. He reached down and gently began to unwrap the cloth.
9
Just before the impact Artoriuse's vision blurred. The man; a Shaman his maker had called him, seemed to change shape, a horrible mix of many limbs, heads and torsos, before it solidified into canine form. A very large canine. Its jaws opened, front teeth easily as long as his forearm.
Then a solid mat of fur hit him with a bone shattering crunch.
10
He paused just the once.
The moon, full in its glory slid from behind a veil of cloud, its Majesty illuminating the whole graveyard, each monument, tree and bush etheric in the cold light. He remembered that day long ago when the one who had made him was unmade by the shapeshifter shaman, the pain of seeing his ripped limb from limb, wanting to help, the only thing stopping him was the calm voice in his head telling him to run, to run now, as fast as he could. He wanted to argue with that voice, to tell it that he could never survive on his own, that he could take this beast easily.
Then it tore head from body, and the voice stopped.
It was like his world ending.
He remembered then, as his hands finished unwrapping the still bundle, that he had decided to live. To continue on, so that one day he could have his vengence against the one who had done this, for surely he would only grow stronger, as he got older, while this beast would only grow older..weaker. Then he could have his vengence.
Arthur looked down as he remembered his naive promise to himself, the problems it had caused later.
And he saw what lay on the ground.
The moon fled.
...TO BE EXPANDED....
When the Moon rises, blood will be spilled...
..and Humanity shall perish.
1
"AM I IN HELL?"
The figure above him answered that yes, he was in hell.
Judas Iscariot closed his eyes.
The figure above him spoke again.
Judas opened his eyes again, this time the figure was clearer, The dark skin and bearded chin framing a gentle smile, while the long dark hair tickled his nose.
He moaned.
'Then why am I seeing my teacher and best friend. If this is indeed hell then I have dammed our Savior to satan's hand.'
'I am not your Savior brother, but one who would give you eternal life on this mortal plane.'
Judas grinned painfully, rose to answer then fell back coughing. His throat hurt.
'I cut you down from the tree before you could leave us. You will heal in time.'
'Why save such a wretched life as mine, surely I deserve death for what I have done.'
'I didn't say anything about saving you Judas.'
2
The sun fell from the sky, exactly on the West point of the compass as it always did at this time of year. Being the longest day, all night creatures slept longer in their burrows, holes and lairs, the intelligent ones dreaming dreams of the past, which, for the darkest and most ancient of them held no mercy.
He arose swiftly from his slumber, dreams and memories of a time when he had last seen such a magnificent light, drawing away from his grasp, the feeling of rough hessian weave on him fading, the sharp pang of his makers teeth on his throat the last sensation to fade as the thirst began throbbing in his chest. He would feed tonight, self imposed fasting ending in the taking of another, an innocent, the only one he would take as an annual reminder of where he had come from, and what he was.
An innocent that awaited for him outside his door.
The grateful villagers had come good again, keeping to the covenant they shared.
3
Animal nature took hold of him.
He awoke, his maker above him, moonlight illuminating the beautiful features.
'You need to be careful with your feeding youngling. Death can still claim you if you drink too much. The heartbeat must slow, but never stop.'
'But we are death father' came the insolent reply
'Typical answer for one new' he sighed 'We are still God's creatures even though we live in his shadow 'Rules must be observed.
'But surely rules are for mortals?'
'We are all mortals in his eyes'
The ancient one watched his younglings thoughts. How they sped through the cold clay of his brain, a fast flowing current of immaturity through a stream, of the overriding, steady beat of the Thirst - Not even slightly slated on his young victims blood.
'I need more'
'Of course you do'
4
He materialized outside the impenetrable granite slap that stood as a door to his resting place, lungs filling with damp night air that held a million scents, each one tantalizing to him. He allowed himself the luxury of a deep breath, drawing everything in to his being.
5
He had never smelled anything like it in his hundred years a vampire.
'What is that horrible stench?'
His maker did not answer strait away, but continued to watch the dance.
'That, youngling, is what we have come to find out' The firelight sparkled in his black eyes as he spoke, gaze never shifting from the scene. It was a marvelous thing to watch, though, somehow it troubled his. The younger could see that it mattered greatly to him, though he did not know why. Humans had never held such fascination before, or trepidation and it troubled him that his father was worried. Why, he thought. It was just drums and dance, nothing they had not seen before, albeit, not in this country, so far from where they had lived before.
'The one who dances' explained his maker, on hearing these thoughts 'is a Shaman, who is invoking the Wolf Spirit Beskarr. A powerful one who may cause us some problems'
'Is this why we left Rome in such a hurry?'
His maker nodded.
'This is why we left our home. To see if the rumours are true'
'And are they, true I mean'
His maker opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak a shout arose from the group.
They had been spotted.
6
A cry, just under mortal ears, came to him from behind a nearby monument.
The darkness blurred then Arthur stood beside the source of the sound, A small tight bundle, cloth soft, rich with vibrant colour only one such as himself could see. It moved faintly, squirming under his gaze as if it knew what was about to happen next. Another cry, louder this time.
7
Events erupted.
His maker was the first to move, toward the fire rather than away from it. Artorius took a moment longer to react, hesitating as to what to do, only becoming animated when his makers voice softly echoed in his head
"We need to stop this, NOW!"
The urgency was lost on him, not knowing why his maker was afraid, only faith that he was doing the right thing finally moving him. He followed, arriving by his makers side quickly, even for a vampire. A quick approving look, then the steel of the charge returned.
8
Arthur knelt down, sitting on his haunches, arms on thighs, with hands dangling off his wrists. The bundle had stopped moving, emitting a last wail before being resigned to its fate. He reached down and gently began to unwrap the cloth.
9
Just before the impact Artoriuse's vision blurred. The man; a Shaman his maker had called him, seemed to change shape, a horrible mix of many limbs, heads and torsos, before it solidified into canine form. A very large canine. Its jaws opened, front teeth easily as long as his forearm.
Then a solid mat of fur hit him with a bone shattering crunch.
10
He paused just the once.
The moon, full in its glory slid from behind a veil of cloud, its Majesty illuminating the whole graveyard, each monument, tree and bush etheric in the cold light. He remembered that day long ago when the one who had made him was unmade by the shapeshifter shaman, the pain of seeing his ripped limb from limb, wanting to help, the only thing stopping him was the calm voice in his head telling him to run, to run now, as fast as he could. He wanted to argue with that voice, to tell it that he could never survive on his own, that he could take this beast easily.
Then it tore head from body, and the voice stopped.
It was like his world ending.
He remembered then, as his hands finished unwrapping the still bundle, that he had decided to live. To continue on, so that one day he could have his vengence against the one who had done this, for surely he would only grow stronger, as he got older, while this beast would only grow older..weaker. Then he could have his vengence.
Arthur looked down as he remembered his naive promise to himself, the problems it had caused later.
And he saw what lay on the ground.
The moon fled.
...TO BE EXPANDED....
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Shifters: Traitor
A scent filled her nostrils.
"It could only be you. And your bitch"
There was a low complicated growl
You had better believe it pack mother!
The red haired woman laughed
"Now then ladies, as much as I would enjoy, no fighting. We are on business here"
A pale form materialized from the shadows, closley followed by a very large white wolf with green, intelligent eyes.
"we wouldn’t want to let all our hard work go to waste, now would we?"
The woman nodded her answer, the wolf lay down by her masters side. This servility did not go unnoticed, by the other two, the mans hand gently stroking the beasts head, the red haired woman’s lips twitching in a silent snarl.
"sit"
The woman remained standing.
a sigh.
"I insist" he said, sweeping his hand in a graceful gesture
She sat, slowly lowering herself to the stone floor, aware that he to was doing the same. The beast behind the man shut its eyes, as if to sleep, if for the fact that a faint glimmer of green showed that this was not so.
"I have come to broker terms of surrender"
"of course you have. I have no doubt that..
"Of your surrender"
The mans jaw dropped.
"Our..?
The woman sat stock still, expression hard as the granite beneath her
"put your teeth away vampire and listen"
Not used to this tone, even from his king, he obliged, face reddening in anger as the stolen blood rushed to his cheeks.
"I want you to withdraw from our northern territories and the heartlands with the solemn promise that you will not bother our kind again."
"Not sure you are in a position to demand anything from us" the man rubbed his chin "In fact, I am not sure the king will even listen, IF I was to return to him with your…terms. Out of personal curiosity though, how do you intend to enforce your will? your northern clans have all but been wiped out by us? Surely you have received news by now of the massacre at Dunedin Field?" He removed his hand and leaned forward "You haven’t, have you?" The vampire threw his head back and laughed, a loud screech his caste kept for redicule. The wolf behind him jumped, then retreated back, ears flat against its head, whimpering.
The woman across from him didn’t even flinch
"I can kill you here as you sit across from me, and you would not even know until satan was burning your tail with a blowtorch!"
"possibly" she replied calmly " but your king would not like that, would he? Not on holy ground"
"He does have his fancies. Still. I could wait until you stepped off the site..
" then three Beskarr Wolves would tear your fucking head off before you could reach me"
"Beskarr eh?"
she nodded
"Not seen one of them in a while..Must let Sire know of this"
"I am sure Arthur would love to know"
She could smell the blood again, bubbling and hot at the sound of his Sires name being mentioned by a shape-shifter, to his credit though, it didn’t show on the surface. She began to respect her adversary a bit more. Whatever else he might be, he knew the right person to send for the job.
The vampire clapped his hands, a loud dry sound “Right. fun over. Heres what is to be done. I will return with news of your acceptance of our terms, which I can draft up quickly on the way and..
"We have accepted your terms"
"and will bring them before Sire, who you will pay tribute to when you arrive a week hence"
"pay Tribute a week hence"
"yes. Good" he stood up, regarding her blank expression for a moment before carrying on "yes..indeed..I am going to leave now. You will leave exactly five minits after me, with the memory of a pleasent evening, having a productive chat with me. You will be a happy little doggy" he paused for a moment, waiting. When nothing happened he finished "Au revoire. It has been a pleasure talking with you, now I must retire for the evening"
He vanished.
Two minuits later she rose, laughing softly to herself. The woman shook her head. She had been wrong about him. He was so obviously the wrong underling to sent to parlay with her. It was a known fact that a shapeshifter could not be Glamored by a vampire. But he was right about one thing. Heads would roll, his being the first when he reported to his Sire.
"It could only be you. And your bitch"
There was a low complicated growl
You had better believe it pack mother!
The red haired woman laughed
"Now then ladies, as much as I would enjoy, no fighting. We are on business here"
A pale form materialized from the shadows, closley followed by a very large white wolf with green, intelligent eyes.
"we wouldn’t want to let all our hard work go to waste, now would we?"
The woman nodded her answer, the wolf lay down by her masters side. This servility did not go unnoticed, by the other two, the mans hand gently stroking the beasts head, the red haired woman’s lips twitching in a silent snarl.
"sit"
The woman remained standing.
a sigh.
"I insist" he said, sweeping his hand in a graceful gesture
She sat, slowly lowering herself to the stone floor, aware that he to was doing the same. The beast behind the man shut its eyes, as if to sleep, if for the fact that a faint glimmer of green showed that this was not so.
"I have come to broker terms of surrender"
"of course you have. I have no doubt that..
"Of your surrender"
The mans jaw dropped.
"Our..?
The woman sat stock still, expression hard as the granite beneath her
"put your teeth away vampire and listen"
Not used to this tone, even from his king, he obliged, face reddening in anger as the stolen blood rushed to his cheeks.
"I want you to withdraw from our northern territories and the heartlands with the solemn promise that you will not bother our kind again."
"Not sure you are in a position to demand anything from us" the man rubbed his chin "In fact, I am not sure the king will even listen, IF I was to return to him with your…terms. Out of personal curiosity though, how do you intend to enforce your will? your northern clans have all but been wiped out by us? Surely you have received news by now of the massacre at Dunedin Field?" He removed his hand and leaned forward "You haven’t, have you?" The vampire threw his head back and laughed, a loud screech his caste kept for redicule. The wolf behind him jumped, then retreated back, ears flat against its head, whimpering.
The woman across from him didn’t even flinch
"I can kill you here as you sit across from me, and you would not even know until satan was burning your tail with a blowtorch!"
"possibly" she replied calmly " but your king would not like that, would he? Not on holy ground"
"He does have his fancies. Still. I could wait until you stepped off the site..
" then three Beskarr Wolves would tear your fucking head off before you could reach me"
"Beskarr eh?"
she nodded
"Not seen one of them in a while..Must let Sire know of this"
"I am sure Arthur would love to know"
She could smell the blood again, bubbling and hot at the sound of his Sires name being mentioned by a shape-shifter, to his credit though, it didn’t show on the surface. She began to respect her adversary a bit more. Whatever else he might be, he knew the right person to send for the job.
The vampire clapped his hands, a loud dry sound “Right. fun over. Heres what is to be done. I will return with news of your acceptance of our terms, which I can draft up quickly on the way and..
"We have accepted your terms"
"and will bring them before Sire, who you will pay tribute to when you arrive a week hence"
"pay Tribute a week hence"
"yes. Good" he stood up, regarding her blank expression for a moment before carrying on "yes..indeed..I am going to leave now. You will leave exactly five minits after me, with the memory of a pleasent evening, having a productive chat with me. You will be a happy little doggy" he paused for a moment, waiting. When nothing happened he finished "Au revoire. It has been a pleasure talking with you, now I must retire for the evening"
He vanished.
Two minuits later she rose, laughing softly to herself. The woman shook her head. She had been wrong about him. He was so obviously the wrong underling to sent to parlay with her. It was a known fact that a shapeshifter could not be Glamored by a vampire. But he was right about one thing. Heads would roll, his being the first when he reported to his Sire.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
scribbling
The figure kneeled on the cold floor, hands tougether as if praying. Nothing moved, even the air was still as if in reverence of what was about to happen in such a sanctified place, or rather, a recently desecrated ruin that still held the wet blood of sacrafice in its stone slabs; seeping, soaking into the very foundation.
A single rivulet, fat and crimson slowly made its way down the discreet slope of the Altar, towards the praying man, bringing with it memories of an uremarkable life, but for the means of which it was ended.
It stopped, still a few feet away, pooling itself under an extended finger, embracing the sharp nail as it tried to carry on, to no avail. Another finger appeared, closing in on its other to cup the sticky liquid and lift it whole from the dirt. Mid air they parted again, the blood firmly in its place until the nail was placed on a waiting toungue.
The Vampire opened his eyes...
A single rivulet, fat and crimson slowly made its way down the discreet slope of the Altar, towards the praying man, bringing with it memories of an uremarkable life, but for the means of which it was ended.
It stopped, still a few feet away, pooling itself under an extended finger, embracing the sharp nail as it tried to carry on, to no avail. Another finger appeared, closing in on its other to cup the sticky liquid and lift it whole from the dirt. Mid air they parted again, the blood firmly in its place until the nail was placed on a waiting toungue.
The Vampire opened his eyes...
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