Post by marlene scarlett mckinnon on Jun 21, 2009 11:53:07 GMT -5
If you don't like speeches/rants before the main reason I have this thread, then you don't have to read the stuff in purple. But I'd like it if you did XD.
So... another reason for my not being completely and a hundred percent obsessed with this rp, is because, I've been taking my own writing very seriously lately because it's kind of my dream in life to be a published author, and so, I've been writing every day like crazy. I've written a lot of stuff, I've completed a crappy novella, started a sci fi (which is on the back burner right now) and now my current project, which I have never been so excited for in my entire life, is currently untitled, but it's a scary vampire story, basically, but here is my big rant: IF YOU COMPARE IT TO TWILIGHT I WILL FREAKIN KILL YOU. *ahem* I did not get this idea from Twilight, nor am I trying to copy Twilight in any way. I love Twilight, I have nothing against Stephanie Meyer, but my vampires are -completely- different from hers. Plus, mine is not focused on a love story, yeah there's a bit of romance, but my main focus is literally about the vampires, how they live, and what they do to survive during the days where people burned witches/vampires at the stakes or killed them in some fashion. My story, does not have sparkling vegetarian vampires, retarded humans, and insane soulmate stuff. My vampires, are blood thirsty, human killing and terrifying bloodsuckers like they're supposed to be. They're also seductive and sexy in a terrifying way. It's all in the perspective of a vampire, not a human.
*takes deep breath* That being said, I'd just like to say this' what I've been writing, and I hope to finish by the end of summer and try to get it published, and I'm really enjoying this and I hope you do too. I'd like you to read this excerpt of chapter two, give me your input, I can take polite constructive criticism, and praise is really nice too...
And since this is chapter two (because chapter one SUCKS), so that you're not confused, basicallly here's what's going on: My main character, Annabelle was completely human in chapter one, enjoying life etc. It ends with her being chased by something creepy (in reality it's my favorite vampire, Lucas) and she gets knocked out. So, Chapter two, is basically her waking up... as a vampire. Remember this' a first draft so they'res gonna be grammar errors, so be nice! Thanks!
Annabelle woke up in an odd daze… She saw red… everywhere. She tilted her head to her left side, regaining her ability to think coherently. How long had she been asleep? She was no longer at the party… The carriage…rain… darkness… the woods…
Annabelle gasped and sat up. The woods. She remembered. She was being chased and then… she could no longer remember. She frantically ran her hand through her hair, trying to figure out where she was. She was lying on top of a bed. The sheets were red velvet, with a golden design of different swirled shapes. It was completely made up, undisturbed except wrinkled in the area she was sitting on. With the matching drapes pulled shut all around her. She could see nothing else.
Annabelle felt disoriented, like she was missing something, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. She looked down at her gown. She sighed miserably. Ruined. The beautiful blue and silver fabric was dirtied, and lost its shine. And to her horror, all of her underskirts were missing; she was practically naked underneath the thin blue dress. She breathed heavily, panicked, and she lunged for the drapes, she grabbed the velvet with her fist, and was about to yank it open, when she froze. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side. But perhaps she should be cautious. She crept up against the drapes, straining her ears. She heard nothing but silence. Whoever put her in this strange place must have deserted her. She carefully pulled aside the drapes, and climbed off the bed and saw the rest of the room. She noticed there wasn’t a single lamp, or candle lit in the room, but she could still see everything. She stepped around the bed to get a better view. There was a cold fireplace in front of the bed, that looked like it hadn’t be used for centuries, cobwebs collecting all over it. In fact, the entire room looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages. The walls and floor were stone, and any and all fabric was made of red velvet. The rug on the stone floor, matched the bed, as well as the chair in front of the fireplace. There were a couple books on the mantel, as well as empty candlesticks. She also spotted picture frames, but there weren’t any paintings in them. The room was absolutely deserted. To the left of the bed, was a large window. She walked over towards it; perhaps she’d be able to figure out where she was from the view outside. She felt dirt and dust beneath her fingers as she placed her hands on the windowsill. The curtains were pulled back letting in an eerie evening breeze. It was dark outside, and she looked around. She was high up, in some kind of… castle. One she had never seen before in her life. It was up high on a mountain, and she couldn’t see any signs of a town at the base. Just thick forests. If she squinted her eyes she could make out a small path leading the way down the mountain. It was barely large enough to hold a decent sized carriage. She looked out ahead, finally frightened. She’d lived in Whitefield her entire life, and she had never seen anything like this before. She was kidnapped, and she was taken far away. But why?
She needed to know. She needed to get out of here. She turned around abruptly and made a bolt across the room for the only door. She had only made it past the bed when she felt a sharp ache in her stomach. She winced and grasped the banister with her right hand and wrapped her left around her stomach, doubling over. She breathed steadily for a moment, and the pain soon faded to a dull ache. Her vision went out of focus, and returned almost as soon as it left, everything appeared sharper, and more defined. She could see the layers of dust caking the banister she was holding, and the particles of dirt on the stone floor beneath her slippers. She blinked, her eyes felt very dry. She felt strong, yet at the same time, the dull pain in her stomach, and a prickling sensation she felt on her neck made her feel weak. She tried blinking the dryness out of her eyes once again.
What was going on?
She straightened up, finding her stomachache a little bit more tolerable. She walked the rest of the way to the door, placed her hand on handle and tried opening it. To her relief it wasn’t locked, and it revealed a hallway. She stepped out looking out left and right. It was completely bare, dust and cobwebs all over. She chose on a whim to go right, praying to find a way out somehow. She was pretty high up from what she saw out the window. So she’d need to find stairs of some kind. Like her room, there wasn’t any sign of light, but yet, she could still see ahead of her. She blinked again, her eyes still very dry. She wondered if it was because of all the dust…
Annabelle wasn’t quite sure how long she spent wandering the corridors, but she noticed significant changes. She had finally found a staircase and quieted descended, still not seeing a single soul. Perhaps she was completely alone, abandoned to die in a dark castle. The thought wasn’t very comforting but it was the only theory she had thus far. Also, the lower she went, the more things kept appearing. She had passed a few torches, lit with bright flame. She didn’t need them to see, so she didn’t take them, but she found some relief that there was some source of light. Also, the walls went from being completely blank, dust and cobweb covered, to being clean, and having beautiful paintings. The paintings were of people she didn’t recognize, men and women alike, but no children. Some of them had names engraved in the frames. There were a couple portraits more scenic, depicting clearings in a forest, with the moon full; a lot of them had men and women in them.
Annabelle came across one very large painting in particular. It was some sort of ceremony, a group of men and women, surrounded at a table. They appeared to be… sacrificing someone maybe? There wasn’t any knife present, or any form of weapon. But there was a man lying on the table… possibly dead. The group of people was standing in a perfect circle around the table, holding their right fist to their hearts, heads bowed in reverence. There was another man in the center of the circle, reading aloud out of an old book. He was standing in front of a smaller table covered in herbs next to the table where the dead man lay. He must be the person performing this gruesome ceremony. There was no engraving describing the picture on the frame, it appeared to have been scratched off. Annabelle shuddered, she didn’t have the patience to stand and admire. She wanted to get out of here, get back to Whitefield, with her family, Bessie, and William. She’d even be ecstatic to see Mary Anne Partiage waiting outside with a few horses.
Annabelle had passed many different rooms throughout this mysterious castle, but all of them were either locked or just empty rooms with no one in them. She was beginning to become convinced that she was the only one here. She still had yet to find an exit. She was beginning to give up on that. She hoped to find a kitchen, or at least be able to make her way back to her red room… but chances of that weren’t likely. She knew her room was at least five flights of stairs above her, but that was about it.
She leaned against the stone wall of the corridor she was in, staring up at the blank ceiling. Her stomach still throbbed uncomfortably, her eyes were so dry that they were itching, and she couldn’t manage to cry, despite how much she wanted to. She was alone, and terrified. She swallowed, her throat was drier than her eyes… she was thirsty. She had to find water.
Then, somewhere down the hall, a woman laughed. Annabelle turned her head in the direction of the noise. She wasn’t alone! She stood up, straining her ears. She couldn’t see anyone, but she continued to hear the woman, her voice was low and muffled, like she was mumbling something to someone. She immediately started off down the hall in that direction, listening. Annabelle couldn’t make anything out of the voice, but it grew louder. There was another voice, male, but she could only hear his breathing mostly. She stopped in front of a door, where the voices were coming from the other side. She didn’t care if they were her kidnappers, they could give her water, or, tell her why she was even here. It didn’t even matter if they tortured her, she was just glad she had some success with her search. It didn’t matter if they put her back in the red room and locked the door, at least she’d have answers. She pushed open the door and froze.
There was a beautiful woman, who didn’t look too much older than Annabelle, and she was pinning a middle-aged man to the bed in the center of the room. It looked a lot like the red room, only there wasn’t any dust, and there was a mirror in the far corner. The main difference was the color scheme. Instead of red sheets and furniture, they were completely black. The thin drapes over the bed were tied back, and Annabelle had a full view of what was going on.
The man looked like he was entranced by the woman’s beauty and didn’t seem to be complaining, letting the woman kiss his neck. Annabelle took a step back to close the door. She shouldn’t be watching this. Maybe she could wait outside until… they were finished.
The woman looked up and locked eyes with Annabelle. Annabelle swallowed ignoring the pain in her throat. Too late. She was caught red handed. Instead of being irritated for being interrupted, a smile slowly grew on the woman’s face. Annabelle wasn’t sure to be afraid, or welcomed. She seemed to have forgotten the man she was kissing and sat up, leaving one hand over his chest.
“Good, you’re awake.” She said in that same, low, but smooth voice Annabelle had heard laughing only moments before. “Now Lucas’ll think I did my job.” She lifted her hand and waved for Annabelle to enter the room. Annabelle felt oddly empty, and slowly entered the room, keeping a good distance away from the bed. The woman looked at Annabelle with an amused expression. “Shut the door,” she paused, noticing Annabelle hesitate. “Please.”
Annabelle didn’t stop looking at the woman as she slowly reached for the door, pushing it shut.
“Who-“ Annabelle stopped, hearing her own voice. It was low and hoarse, and her throat burned as air passed through it. “Who are you?” She finished, placing a hand over her throat, as if it would help the pain. Annabelle looked at the woman, and saw that the man didn’t appear to notice Annabelle. He sat up and wrapped his arms across the woman’s shoulders and started kissing her neck and jaw, desperately. The woman looked at Annabelle unfazed by how the man was touching her.
“My name is Delia, don’t worry, I won’t bite…” she laughed. Annabelle suppressed a shudder, there was something about this woman’s laugh, something Annabelle couldn’t even describe. She finally looked back at the man who was trying to unlace her black dress, still not having realized Annabelle’s presence in the room. “Yet.” She looked back to Annabelle. “You must be thirsty.” Annabelle didn’t want to speak, not wanting to stir up the pain in her throat again, so she just nodded. Delia sighed, looking back at the man, removing his hand from her dress.
“Very well,” she said finally, using her other hand to stroke back his hair gently. She leaned in close to his face, resting her hand behind his neck. “My apologies, Crumb-cake.” She said, low, seductive, and very sarcastic. Annabelle heard a deafening and unpleasant crunch, and the man fell back on the bed, limp, his eyes staring at Annabelle for the first time, lifeless. Annabelle gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, feeling bile rise up in her throat, setting it on fire. Her stomach tightened and she doubled over in pain. She bolted to the fireplace, and started retching on top of the ashes. She knocked over a candlestick trying to find a place on the mantle to grab and support her weight. Her throat felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside, the bile scalding hot, and it never seemed to stop.
When it finally settled down, she coughed, and her nostrils burned from the terrible smell of the vomit. Annabelle tilted her head in Delia’s direction. She wrinkled her nose; she must be able to smell the vomit from all the way over there. Delia rose from the bed and stepped towards Annabelle leaving the body alone.
“You killed him.” Annabelle croaked, coughing again into the ashes. Delia nodded.
“Of course I did.” Annabelle’s lip trembled.
“And you’re going to kill me.” She said, her head drooping down, staring at her own vomit. Delia chuckled.
“I can’t.” Annabelle looked up, standing up slightly, leaning against the mantle.
“Why am I here?” She demanded, looking at Delia more closely. She was unlike any woman Annabelle had ever seen before. She was tall, had a vivacious figure, skin as pale as snow and flawless, with long brown hair that cascaded half way down her back in curls and waves. Her face was angular; her lips dark and equally shaped, with a seductive smile almost always tugging on her lips, in amusement. Her eyes were very dark, with huge black pupils and maroon irises. She had a very distinctive posture and there was a charm about her than made her seem even more beautiful, but at the same time it was nearly terrifying. Delia tilted her head.
“So you don’t know do you…” She didn’t wait for Annabelle to muster a reply. “You belong here now, Annabelle.-“
“What’re you talking about?” Annabelle sputtered. “I don’t belong here, I- I live in Whitefield, I want to go back-“
“That’s not possible.”
“My family will pay you.” Annabelle continued, ignoring the searing pain in her throat. “Just take me home, they’ll give you whatever you want.” Delia chuckled again.
“What I want eh?”
“Yes.” Delia smirked and walked over to the man’s body. She held up his wrist and slid her fingernail across it. Annabelle watched and saw a thin line of red blood begin spilling out of his arm.
“Smell that?” As soon as she said it, Annabelle’s nose was greeted with the sweetest, most delicious smell she’d ever experienced.
“Yes…” Annabelle said almost breathlessly, swallowing furiously, the sting in her throat becoming even more unbearable. Her thoughts were spinning; there was something in the blood. She didn’t know what it was… but her mouth watered, with something sticky, thicker than saliva.
“That is what I want, and you want it too… don’t you?” Annabelle almost nodded, she did, she wanted more than anything to tackle that man’s body, put that bleeding wrist to her lips and-
She couldn’t believe the revolting thoughts she was thinking, she turned back into the fireplace and coughed furiously, as if she was retching again, but no bile came up. Her stomach was completely emptied.
“Never.” She said, spitting out the transparent sticky fluid collecting in her mouth into the fire. Her eyes widened as she saw the fluid sizzle against the ashes and bile, and a little bit of smoke formed. As if it was boiling away…
Delia chuckled again.
“You lied.” She inhaled and grinned extending her top row of teeth, revealing two sharp fangs towards the back. Annabelle stared in horror as Delia lifted the dead man’s wrist to her lips, and she closed her eyes biting into his skin. She pulled back after a moment, and licked the cut seductively, causing the wrist to bleed even more. Annabelle had to hold her breath to keep from shoving Delia aside and taking over. Delia looked pointedly at Annabelle, her dark lips were now crimson with blood, and her maroon eyes appeared to be glowing.
“Mmm.” She exhaled in satisfaction, and offered the wrist to Annabelle. “It’s still warm.” She smiled. Annabelle’s face contorted in disgust.
“You’re a monster!” She spat. Delia narrowed her eyes.
“The correct term is ‘Vampire.’” She said slowly, almost dangerously. “And you’re one too, so watch your tongue.” Annabelle shook her head, pressing her back against the mantle.
“No, I’m not a vampire.” She shook her head even more furiously. “That’s impossible. I- I’m Annabelle Dawn, I live in Whitefield, I have a family, and I’m about to become engaged, and I am no devil’s child.” Delia hissed and was in front of Annabelle before she could blink. Delia jabbed two fingers on the left side of her neck and glared at her dangerously. Annabelle screamed, the spot where Delia was touching all of a sudden felt like someone stabbed her in the neck with a hot iron. Delia slid her hand down to Annabelle’s shoulder and the pain instantly subsided. She tilted her head, and with her free hand pointed at the left side of her own neck.
“You see that?” She demanded. Annabelle tried to shrug Delia’s hand off her shoulder, but Delia kept a strong grip. “Look at my neck.”
Annabelle finally complied, and saw a light pink scar at the base of the left side of Delia’s neck, just above her collarbone. It was probably the only blemish on her entire body, and it was in a crescent shape, with two circles on either end.
“No devil did that to me.” She said angrily. “You have one too.” She touched the same spot on Annabelle’s neck again. Annabelle screeched in pain, and Delia removed her finger once again. “Right there.” Annabelle reached her own hand up to that spot on her neck. It started stinging and burning instantly, but Annabelle could feel a similar shape, the small crescent, and two circular cuts on either end. It was located in the same place too, left side of her neck, just above the collarbone. Annabelle looked at Delia, blinking unbelieving at her. Annabelle dropped her hand to her side. No, she couldn’t be a vampire… it was some kind of joke… It had to be.
“Need more proof?” Delia asked her, daring her with her dark red eyes. Annabelle looked down at the floor, and said nothing. Delia took that as a yes, she took Annabelle’s wrist, and slid her fingernail across it, like she did to the bleeding body on the bed. Annabelle stared at it, not even sure what to think anymore, as she watched a thick, dark-reddish purple liquid seeped out of the cut.
“See that?” Annabelle swallowed again at her burning throat and nodded. Delia held her wrist closer to Annabelle’s face. “Get a good whiff of that too.” Annabelle sniffed cautiously, and almost vomited again.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” Delia let go of Annabelle’s wrist, and slid her fingernail across her own wrist, and a similar reddish-purple fluid also seeped out of her cut. “Mine smells the same too.”
“Why?” Annabelle choked.
“No person alive has rotted blood in their veins.” She nodded back at the dead man. “Soon his blood will look like that. That is, if no one drinks it first.” Annabelle’s lip trembled.
“I’m dead?”
“You should be.” She grabbed Annabelle’s upper arm and pulled her towards the mirror. “See for yourself. You’re not the rich girl from Whitefield anymore.” The way Delia said it was almost smug. If Annabelle weren’t feeling sick to her stomach right now, she would’ve slapped Delia across the face. Annabelle looked back at her reflection in the mirror, and couldn’t believe what she saw.
Annabelle was always fair skinned, but now her complexion matched the smooth milk coloring like Delia’s. She could see the scar on her neck; it was perfectly identical to Delia’s. And even more to Annabelle’s horror, her eyes were no longer a deep brown. Instead she had the same huge black pupils, and faint maroon irises. Otherwise, Annabelle looked relatively the same, with long golden blonde hair, same five foot six inch height, same everything, but it seemed… enhanced, in an attractive, but terrifying way. Annabelle couldn’t pin point words for it. Her hair was completely down, and tangled, and her dress… was ready to be burned. Annabelle almost couldn’t recognize herself. She saw the same girl in general, but there was something missing, like she looked stone cold. Was she? Annabelle touched her wrist. She couldn’t tell her temperature. She looked down at her hands. She noticed that the cut Delia gave her was already healed, as if it had never been cut at all. She looked back up at the mirror.
“I’m dead.” She muttered to herself. She finally realized what she was missing. She clasped her hands over the left side of her chest.
She couldn’t feel her heartbeat thumping against her chest. It wasn’t moving at all. That was why her blood was that nasty red-purple shade. Her heart wasn’t pumping it through her body. It was lying in her veins, immobile.
“I’m dead.” She cried in despair, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders started shaking with sobs. When she finally pulled away to look in the mirror, she saw traces of her blood on her hands. She looked up in the mirror, and she realized her eyes were no longer dry. She was crying, with tears… bloody tears. She screamed and grasped the sides of the mirror, studying her face, in denial.
“No… no…” she gasped from the burning pain in her throat. “What’s wrong with me?!” She sunk to her knees and leaned her forehead against the mirror, sobbing uncontrollably. She could see Delia’s reflection in the mirror; her arms were crossed, watching Annabelle patiently.
“Why…” Annabelle breathed, a scratchy, hoarse whisper. Her voice sounded like a dying cat’s whine. “It hurts,” she sobbed. “Everything hurts…”
“That’ll go away after you drink.” Delia answered. “You’re thirsty.” Annabelle nodded, understanding.
“I won’t drink.” Delia tilted her head.
“Stubborn. Very well.” She turned and her flowing black skirts swished behind her as she made her way back to the bed. Annabelle sat up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned around so she was facing the bed, and curled up on the floor. She watched Delia lift up the man’s wrist once again, and continued to drink his blood. Annabelle focused on the lifeless man, and Delia’s lips against his skin… some blood seeped past her lips and trickled into the man’s palm. The sticky fluid filled Annabelle’s mouth again. The smell was so strong… so sweet. Blood had never appealed to her before, and never like this. She looked at the man again. He had no idea what happened to him. He was gone… She looked back to Delia, who pulled back, licking her lips clean, she seemed to have finished.
“Kill me.” [/size]
Ta -da! That's not the entire chapter, but at least you kinda got a good idea of what I've been up to. I'm super excited =]. Also... I think maybe it'd be a good idea to have a sub-thread for this kind of stuff? Where we can share our own writing other than what we do for the rp? Anyway, tell me what you think please!
So... another reason for my not being completely and a hundred percent obsessed with this rp, is because, I've been taking my own writing very seriously lately because it's kind of my dream in life to be a published author, and so, I've been writing every day like crazy. I've written a lot of stuff, I've completed a crappy novella, started a sci fi (which is on the back burner right now) and now my current project, which I have never been so excited for in my entire life, is currently untitled, but it's a scary vampire story, basically, but here is my big rant: IF YOU COMPARE IT TO TWILIGHT I WILL FREAKIN KILL YOU. *ahem* I did not get this idea from Twilight, nor am I trying to copy Twilight in any way. I love Twilight, I have nothing against Stephanie Meyer, but my vampires are -completely- different from hers. Plus, mine is not focused on a love story, yeah there's a bit of romance, but my main focus is literally about the vampires, how they live, and what they do to survive during the days where people burned witches/vampires at the stakes or killed them in some fashion. My story, does not have sparkling vegetarian vampires, retarded humans, and insane soulmate stuff. My vampires, are blood thirsty, human killing and terrifying bloodsuckers like they're supposed to be. They're also seductive and sexy in a terrifying way. It's all in the perspective of a vampire, not a human.
*takes deep breath* That being said, I'd just like to say this' what I've been writing, and I hope to finish by the end of summer and try to get it published, and I'm really enjoying this and I hope you do too. I'd like you to read this excerpt of chapter two, give me your input, I can take polite constructive criticism, and praise is really nice too...
And since this is chapter two (because chapter one SUCKS), so that you're not confused, basicallly here's what's going on: My main character, Annabelle was completely human in chapter one, enjoying life etc. It ends with her being chased by something creepy (in reality it's my favorite vampire, Lucas) and she gets knocked out. So, Chapter two, is basically her waking up... as a vampire. Remember this' a first draft so they'res gonna be grammar errors, so be nice! Thanks!
Truth
Annabelle woke up in an odd daze… She saw red… everywhere. She tilted her head to her left side, regaining her ability to think coherently. How long had she been asleep? She was no longer at the party… The carriage…rain… darkness… the woods…
Annabelle gasped and sat up. The woods. She remembered. She was being chased and then… she could no longer remember. She frantically ran her hand through her hair, trying to figure out where she was. She was lying on top of a bed. The sheets were red velvet, with a golden design of different swirled shapes. It was completely made up, undisturbed except wrinkled in the area she was sitting on. With the matching drapes pulled shut all around her. She could see nothing else.
Annabelle felt disoriented, like she was missing something, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. She looked down at her gown. She sighed miserably. Ruined. The beautiful blue and silver fabric was dirtied, and lost its shine. And to her horror, all of her underskirts were missing; she was practically naked underneath the thin blue dress. She breathed heavily, panicked, and she lunged for the drapes, she grabbed the velvet with her fist, and was about to yank it open, when she froze. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side. But perhaps she should be cautious. She crept up against the drapes, straining her ears. She heard nothing but silence. Whoever put her in this strange place must have deserted her. She carefully pulled aside the drapes, and climbed off the bed and saw the rest of the room. She noticed there wasn’t a single lamp, or candle lit in the room, but she could still see everything. She stepped around the bed to get a better view. There was a cold fireplace in front of the bed, that looked like it hadn’t be used for centuries, cobwebs collecting all over it. In fact, the entire room looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages. The walls and floor were stone, and any and all fabric was made of red velvet. The rug on the stone floor, matched the bed, as well as the chair in front of the fireplace. There were a couple books on the mantel, as well as empty candlesticks. She also spotted picture frames, but there weren’t any paintings in them. The room was absolutely deserted. To the left of the bed, was a large window. She walked over towards it; perhaps she’d be able to figure out where she was from the view outside. She felt dirt and dust beneath her fingers as she placed her hands on the windowsill. The curtains were pulled back letting in an eerie evening breeze. It was dark outside, and she looked around. She was high up, in some kind of… castle. One she had never seen before in her life. It was up high on a mountain, and she couldn’t see any signs of a town at the base. Just thick forests. If she squinted her eyes she could make out a small path leading the way down the mountain. It was barely large enough to hold a decent sized carriage. She looked out ahead, finally frightened. She’d lived in Whitefield her entire life, and she had never seen anything like this before. She was kidnapped, and she was taken far away. But why?
She needed to know. She needed to get out of here. She turned around abruptly and made a bolt across the room for the only door. She had only made it past the bed when she felt a sharp ache in her stomach. She winced and grasped the banister with her right hand and wrapped her left around her stomach, doubling over. She breathed steadily for a moment, and the pain soon faded to a dull ache. Her vision went out of focus, and returned almost as soon as it left, everything appeared sharper, and more defined. She could see the layers of dust caking the banister she was holding, and the particles of dirt on the stone floor beneath her slippers. She blinked, her eyes felt very dry. She felt strong, yet at the same time, the dull pain in her stomach, and a prickling sensation she felt on her neck made her feel weak. She tried blinking the dryness out of her eyes once again.
What was going on?
She straightened up, finding her stomachache a little bit more tolerable. She walked the rest of the way to the door, placed her hand on handle and tried opening it. To her relief it wasn’t locked, and it revealed a hallway. She stepped out looking out left and right. It was completely bare, dust and cobwebs all over. She chose on a whim to go right, praying to find a way out somehow. She was pretty high up from what she saw out the window. So she’d need to find stairs of some kind. Like her room, there wasn’t any sign of light, but yet, she could still see ahead of her. She blinked again, her eyes still very dry. She wondered if it was because of all the dust…
Annabelle wasn’t quite sure how long she spent wandering the corridors, but she noticed significant changes. She had finally found a staircase and quieted descended, still not seeing a single soul. Perhaps she was completely alone, abandoned to die in a dark castle. The thought wasn’t very comforting but it was the only theory she had thus far. Also, the lower she went, the more things kept appearing. She had passed a few torches, lit with bright flame. She didn’t need them to see, so she didn’t take them, but she found some relief that there was some source of light. Also, the walls went from being completely blank, dust and cobweb covered, to being clean, and having beautiful paintings. The paintings were of people she didn’t recognize, men and women alike, but no children. Some of them had names engraved in the frames. There were a couple portraits more scenic, depicting clearings in a forest, with the moon full; a lot of them had men and women in them.
Annabelle came across one very large painting in particular. It was some sort of ceremony, a group of men and women, surrounded at a table. They appeared to be… sacrificing someone maybe? There wasn’t any knife present, or any form of weapon. But there was a man lying on the table… possibly dead. The group of people was standing in a perfect circle around the table, holding their right fist to their hearts, heads bowed in reverence. There was another man in the center of the circle, reading aloud out of an old book. He was standing in front of a smaller table covered in herbs next to the table where the dead man lay. He must be the person performing this gruesome ceremony. There was no engraving describing the picture on the frame, it appeared to have been scratched off. Annabelle shuddered, she didn’t have the patience to stand and admire. She wanted to get out of here, get back to Whitefield, with her family, Bessie, and William. She’d even be ecstatic to see Mary Anne Partiage waiting outside with a few horses.
Annabelle had passed many different rooms throughout this mysterious castle, but all of them were either locked or just empty rooms with no one in them. She was beginning to become convinced that she was the only one here. She still had yet to find an exit. She was beginning to give up on that. She hoped to find a kitchen, or at least be able to make her way back to her red room… but chances of that weren’t likely. She knew her room was at least five flights of stairs above her, but that was about it.
She leaned against the stone wall of the corridor she was in, staring up at the blank ceiling. Her stomach still throbbed uncomfortably, her eyes were so dry that they were itching, and she couldn’t manage to cry, despite how much she wanted to. She was alone, and terrified. She swallowed, her throat was drier than her eyes… she was thirsty. She had to find water.
Then, somewhere down the hall, a woman laughed. Annabelle turned her head in the direction of the noise. She wasn’t alone! She stood up, straining her ears. She couldn’t see anyone, but she continued to hear the woman, her voice was low and muffled, like she was mumbling something to someone. She immediately started off down the hall in that direction, listening. Annabelle couldn’t make anything out of the voice, but it grew louder. There was another voice, male, but she could only hear his breathing mostly. She stopped in front of a door, where the voices were coming from the other side. She didn’t care if they were her kidnappers, they could give her water, or, tell her why she was even here. It didn’t even matter if they tortured her, she was just glad she had some success with her search. It didn’t matter if they put her back in the red room and locked the door, at least she’d have answers. She pushed open the door and froze.
There was a beautiful woman, who didn’t look too much older than Annabelle, and she was pinning a middle-aged man to the bed in the center of the room. It looked a lot like the red room, only there wasn’t any dust, and there was a mirror in the far corner. The main difference was the color scheme. Instead of red sheets and furniture, they were completely black. The thin drapes over the bed were tied back, and Annabelle had a full view of what was going on.
The man looked like he was entranced by the woman’s beauty and didn’t seem to be complaining, letting the woman kiss his neck. Annabelle took a step back to close the door. She shouldn’t be watching this. Maybe she could wait outside until… they were finished.
The woman looked up and locked eyes with Annabelle. Annabelle swallowed ignoring the pain in her throat. Too late. She was caught red handed. Instead of being irritated for being interrupted, a smile slowly grew on the woman’s face. Annabelle wasn’t sure to be afraid, or welcomed. She seemed to have forgotten the man she was kissing and sat up, leaving one hand over his chest.
“Good, you’re awake.” She said in that same, low, but smooth voice Annabelle had heard laughing only moments before. “Now Lucas’ll think I did my job.” She lifted her hand and waved for Annabelle to enter the room. Annabelle felt oddly empty, and slowly entered the room, keeping a good distance away from the bed. The woman looked at Annabelle with an amused expression. “Shut the door,” she paused, noticing Annabelle hesitate. “Please.”
Annabelle didn’t stop looking at the woman as she slowly reached for the door, pushing it shut.
“Who-“ Annabelle stopped, hearing her own voice. It was low and hoarse, and her throat burned as air passed through it. “Who are you?” She finished, placing a hand over her throat, as if it would help the pain. Annabelle looked at the woman, and saw that the man didn’t appear to notice Annabelle. He sat up and wrapped his arms across the woman’s shoulders and started kissing her neck and jaw, desperately. The woman looked at Annabelle unfazed by how the man was touching her.
“My name is Delia, don’t worry, I won’t bite…” she laughed. Annabelle suppressed a shudder, there was something about this woman’s laugh, something Annabelle couldn’t even describe. She finally looked back at the man who was trying to unlace her black dress, still not having realized Annabelle’s presence in the room. “Yet.” She looked back to Annabelle. “You must be thirsty.” Annabelle didn’t want to speak, not wanting to stir up the pain in her throat again, so she just nodded. Delia sighed, looking back at the man, removing his hand from her dress.
“Very well,” she said finally, using her other hand to stroke back his hair gently. She leaned in close to his face, resting her hand behind his neck. “My apologies, Crumb-cake.” She said, low, seductive, and very sarcastic. Annabelle heard a deafening and unpleasant crunch, and the man fell back on the bed, limp, his eyes staring at Annabelle for the first time, lifeless. Annabelle gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, feeling bile rise up in her throat, setting it on fire. Her stomach tightened and she doubled over in pain. She bolted to the fireplace, and started retching on top of the ashes. She knocked over a candlestick trying to find a place on the mantle to grab and support her weight. Her throat felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside, the bile scalding hot, and it never seemed to stop.
When it finally settled down, she coughed, and her nostrils burned from the terrible smell of the vomit. Annabelle tilted her head in Delia’s direction. She wrinkled her nose; she must be able to smell the vomit from all the way over there. Delia rose from the bed and stepped towards Annabelle leaving the body alone.
“You killed him.” Annabelle croaked, coughing again into the ashes. Delia nodded.
“Of course I did.” Annabelle’s lip trembled.
“And you’re going to kill me.” She said, her head drooping down, staring at her own vomit. Delia chuckled.
“I can’t.” Annabelle looked up, standing up slightly, leaning against the mantle.
“Why am I here?” She demanded, looking at Delia more closely. She was unlike any woman Annabelle had ever seen before. She was tall, had a vivacious figure, skin as pale as snow and flawless, with long brown hair that cascaded half way down her back in curls and waves. Her face was angular; her lips dark and equally shaped, with a seductive smile almost always tugging on her lips, in amusement. Her eyes were very dark, with huge black pupils and maroon irises. She had a very distinctive posture and there was a charm about her than made her seem even more beautiful, but at the same time it was nearly terrifying. Delia tilted her head.
“So you don’t know do you…” She didn’t wait for Annabelle to muster a reply. “You belong here now, Annabelle.-“
“What’re you talking about?” Annabelle sputtered. “I don’t belong here, I- I live in Whitefield, I want to go back-“
“That’s not possible.”
“My family will pay you.” Annabelle continued, ignoring the searing pain in her throat. “Just take me home, they’ll give you whatever you want.” Delia chuckled again.
“What I want eh?”
“Yes.” Delia smirked and walked over to the man’s body. She held up his wrist and slid her fingernail across it. Annabelle watched and saw a thin line of red blood begin spilling out of his arm.
“Smell that?” As soon as she said it, Annabelle’s nose was greeted with the sweetest, most delicious smell she’d ever experienced.
“Yes…” Annabelle said almost breathlessly, swallowing furiously, the sting in her throat becoming even more unbearable. Her thoughts were spinning; there was something in the blood. She didn’t know what it was… but her mouth watered, with something sticky, thicker than saliva.
“That is what I want, and you want it too… don’t you?” Annabelle almost nodded, she did, she wanted more than anything to tackle that man’s body, put that bleeding wrist to her lips and-
She couldn’t believe the revolting thoughts she was thinking, she turned back into the fireplace and coughed furiously, as if she was retching again, but no bile came up. Her stomach was completely emptied.
“Never.” She said, spitting out the transparent sticky fluid collecting in her mouth into the fire. Her eyes widened as she saw the fluid sizzle against the ashes and bile, and a little bit of smoke formed. As if it was boiling away…
Delia chuckled again.
“You lied.” She inhaled and grinned extending her top row of teeth, revealing two sharp fangs towards the back. Annabelle stared in horror as Delia lifted the dead man’s wrist to her lips, and she closed her eyes biting into his skin. She pulled back after a moment, and licked the cut seductively, causing the wrist to bleed even more. Annabelle had to hold her breath to keep from shoving Delia aside and taking over. Delia looked pointedly at Annabelle, her dark lips were now crimson with blood, and her maroon eyes appeared to be glowing.
“Mmm.” She exhaled in satisfaction, and offered the wrist to Annabelle. “It’s still warm.” She smiled. Annabelle’s face contorted in disgust.
“You’re a monster!” She spat. Delia narrowed her eyes.
“The correct term is ‘Vampire.’” She said slowly, almost dangerously. “And you’re one too, so watch your tongue.” Annabelle shook her head, pressing her back against the mantle.
“No, I’m not a vampire.” She shook her head even more furiously. “That’s impossible. I- I’m Annabelle Dawn, I live in Whitefield, I have a family, and I’m about to become engaged, and I am no devil’s child.” Delia hissed and was in front of Annabelle before she could blink. Delia jabbed two fingers on the left side of her neck and glared at her dangerously. Annabelle screamed, the spot where Delia was touching all of a sudden felt like someone stabbed her in the neck with a hot iron. Delia slid her hand down to Annabelle’s shoulder and the pain instantly subsided. She tilted her head, and with her free hand pointed at the left side of her own neck.
“You see that?” She demanded. Annabelle tried to shrug Delia’s hand off her shoulder, but Delia kept a strong grip. “Look at my neck.”
Annabelle finally complied, and saw a light pink scar at the base of the left side of Delia’s neck, just above her collarbone. It was probably the only blemish on her entire body, and it was in a crescent shape, with two circles on either end.
“No devil did that to me.” She said angrily. “You have one too.” She touched the same spot on Annabelle’s neck again. Annabelle screeched in pain, and Delia removed her finger once again. “Right there.” Annabelle reached her own hand up to that spot on her neck. It started stinging and burning instantly, but Annabelle could feel a similar shape, the small crescent, and two circular cuts on either end. It was located in the same place too, left side of her neck, just above the collarbone. Annabelle looked at Delia, blinking unbelieving at her. Annabelle dropped her hand to her side. No, she couldn’t be a vampire… it was some kind of joke… It had to be.
“Need more proof?” Delia asked her, daring her with her dark red eyes. Annabelle looked down at the floor, and said nothing. Delia took that as a yes, she took Annabelle’s wrist, and slid her fingernail across it, like she did to the bleeding body on the bed. Annabelle stared at it, not even sure what to think anymore, as she watched a thick, dark-reddish purple liquid seeped out of the cut.
“See that?” Annabelle swallowed again at her burning throat and nodded. Delia held her wrist closer to Annabelle’s face. “Get a good whiff of that too.” Annabelle sniffed cautiously, and almost vomited again.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” Delia let go of Annabelle’s wrist, and slid her fingernail across her own wrist, and a similar reddish-purple fluid also seeped out of her cut. “Mine smells the same too.”
“Why?” Annabelle choked.
“No person alive has rotted blood in their veins.” She nodded back at the dead man. “Soon his blood will look like that. That is, if no one drinks it first.” Annabelle’s lip trembled.
“I’m dead?”
“You should be.” She grabbed Annabelle’s upper arm and pulled her towards the mirror. “See for yourself. You’re not the rich girl from Whitefield anymore.” The way Delia said it was almost smug. If Annabelle weren’t feeling sick to her stomach right now, she would’ve slapped Delia across the face. Annabelle looked back at her reflection in the mirror, and couldn’t believe what she saw.
Annabelle was always fair skinned, but now her complexion matched the smooth milk coloring like Delia’s. She could see the scar on her neck; it was perfectly identical to Delia’s. And even more to Annabelle’s horror, her eyes were no longer a deep brown. Instead she had the same huge black pupils, and faint maroon irises. Otherwise, Annabelle looked relatively the same, with long golden blonde hair, same five foot six inch height, same everything, but it seemed… enhanced, in an attractive, but terrifying way. Annabelle couldn’t pin point words for it. Her hair was completely down, and tangled, and her dress… was ready to be burned. Annabelle almost couldn’t recognize herself. She saw the same girl in general, but there was something missing, like she looked stone cold. Was she? Annabelle touched her wrist. She couldn’t tell her temperature. She looked down at her hands. She noticed that the cut Delia gave her was already healed, as if it had never been cut at all. She looked back up at the mirror.
“I’m dead.” She muttered to herself. She finally realized what she was missing. She clasped her hands over the left side of her chest.
She couldn’t feel her heartbeat thumping against her chest. It wasn’t moving at all. That was why her blood was that nasty red-purple shade. Her heart wasn’t pumping it through her body. It was lying in her veins, immobile.
“I’m dead.” She cried in despair, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders started shaking with sobs. When she finally pulled away to look in the mirror, she saw traces of her blood on her hands. She looked up in the mirror, and she realized her eyes were no longer dry. She was crying, with tears… bloody tears. She screamed and grasped the sides of the mirror, studying her face, in denial.
“No… no…” she gasped from the burning pain in her throat. “What’s wrong with me?!” She sunk to her knees and leaned her forehead against the mirror, sobbing uncontrollably. She could see Delia’s reflection in the mirror; her arms were crossed, watching Annabelle patiently.
“Why…” Annabelle breathed, a scratchy, hoarse whisper. Her voice sounded like a dying cat’s whine. “It hurts,” she sobbed. “Everything hurts…”
“That’ll go away after you drink.” Delia answered. “You’re thirsty.” Annabelle nodded, understanding.
“I won’t drink.” Delia tilted her head.
“Stubborn. Very well.” She turned and her flowing black skirts swished behind her as she made her way back to the bed. Annabelle sat up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned around so she was facing the bed, and curled up on the floor. She watched Delia lift up the man’s wrist once again, and continued to drink his blood. Annabelle focused on the lifeless man, and Delia’s lips against his skin… some blood seeped past her lips and trickled into the man’s palm. The sticky fluid filled Annabelle’s mouth again. The smell was so strong… so sweet. Blood had never appealed to her before, and never like this. She looked at the man again. He had no idea what happened to him. He was gone… She looked back to Delia, who pulled back, licking her lips clean, she seemed to have finished.
“Kill me.” [/size]
Ta -da! That's not the entire chapter, but at least you kinda got a good idea of what I've been up to. I'm super excited =]. Also... I think maybe it'd be a good idea to have a sub-thread for this kind of stuff? Where we can share our own writing other than what we do for the rp? Anyway, tell me what you think please!
xD it sounds awesoooome.... DO I GET FREE COPY WHEN IT GETS PUBLISHED?? 