Vampyr

Have you got a game, book or movie you'd like to make a story out of? Want to expand on a story or plot that stopped? Have an original idea for a story that you want to post somewhere? Here's where to do it. Basically an RPG where one player controls ALL characters in the story.

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Total votes : 5

Vampyr

Postby Hopeflower » Wed Jul 30, 2008 11:14 pm

Note: Based on the book Beneath a Blood Red Moon.

*********

Darkness enveloped the city, broken only by the harsh orange glow of the streetlights. It was nearly midnight; the moonless night provided an excellent cover for those who stalked the silent streets after dark. Predators searching for prey.

A seemingly ordinary girl walked quietly towards her home, her hands tucked into the pockets of her denim jacket. Underneath it, she wore a gray t-shirt with a splash of red on the front. Her too-long jeans caught on the bottoms of her boots as she walked, and the frayed hems bore holes to suggest she often walked the sharp-stoned gravel pathways. The knees of the jeans were torn badly as well, suggesting frequent bad stumbles and falls. Her t-shirt hugged her frame, making every subtle curve quite obvious. Her arms were slender and white, as was her face. Her eyes were slanted at the corners, like a cat’s, and deep, burning amber in color. She had high-set cheekbones, and a softly pointed chin. Her hair, which was parted slightly to one side, was chocolate brown and tucked behind her ears, with only a small curl resting lightly on her forehead.

The gravel crunched under her steel-toed boots and she let out a soft sigh. She took one hand out of her pocket and rubbed her neck, feeling her fingers brush against a small scrape that had scabbed over yesterday. Only she knew that that was no ordinary cut. Only she knew where she’d gotten it. It would be a secret that would stay with her until the day she breathed her last.

Withdrawing her other hand from her pocket, she gripped lightly between slim fingers a silver key that glinted as she placed it into the lock and turned it gently, unlocking the door. She turned the knob, pulling the key out of the lock, and pushed the door inwards, replacing her key in her pocket. As she shut the door quietly behind her, she glanced around her, as if expecting to be attacked at any second.

“You’re….late,” a soft voice hissed out of the darkness. A light flickered on, revealing a tall figure clad in a black shirt and white pants. The young woman flinched and pressed her back to the door, desperately averted her gaze as if she were afraid of looking into the man’s icy coal-black eyes.

“Y…yes…” she mumbled. “I’m sorry, Luican. It won’t happen again.” She slid her hand along the wooden door behind her, and her fingers grasped the handle.

Luican strode forward quickly, his hands shooting out of his pockets and lunging at her. His long, slim fingers quickly wrapped around her wrists, and he pinned her hands above her head easily. He used his other hand to tip her chin up so she was forced to meet his gaze. “Remember what I taught you,” he said, his lips curling into an ugly snarl. “Make no mistakes.” His eyes were no longer black, but as red as flames. “Am I to understand that you are late because you were followed again?”

“No!” The woman struggled desperately, trying to free herself, terror in her golden eyes. “It just took longer than usual! That’s all!” She kicked the man in the shins, trying to get him to release her. He let out a yelp and backed away, and the woman took her opportunity to escape, her fingers finding the doorknob once more. She turned it violently and flung the door open, racing down the front porch stairs and out into the streets, desperately trying to escape her captor--the one who had turned her into what she was.

But she was learning, and learning fast. Luican had power; that was true.

But she would have more.

After all….she was, and always would be a stalker of the night…a vampyr.

*********

The soft thud of a pad of paper on a wooden desk seemed to be the cue for the phone to start ringing. As if she did this all day long, a young woman reached over and picked up the receiver. “Hello, Lockwood residence, Abigail Lockwood speaking. Who may I ask is calling?” She spoke cheerily, as if she never got tired of saying those words.

“Hello, Abigail. This is Bill Canady calling for Steven Lockwood concerning our most recent case.”

Abigail tapped the end of a pencil against her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. He’s not home at the moment,” she replied. “Can I take a message?” How convenient. She’d just taken out her best drawing paper and a pen and pencil to sketch out a design for a new outfit she wanted to show to a designer company.

“Sure. Tell him that there’s been another development, and have him call me. Do you still have my number?”

Though the detective couldn’t see her, Abigail flushed a light pink and paused in writing the message with the tip of her pencil resting lightly on the paper. “I think I lost it, sir,” she mumbled. “Can you give it to me again?”

Bill’s laughter sounded a little distorted over the phone. “Sure kiddo. It’s 531-1809. You got it?”

“I got it. Thank you, sir.”

“Read the whole message back to me. Everything you wrote down.”

Abigail sighed and muttered, “You’re killing me.” She cleared her throat and recited, “‘Dad--Bill Canady called. I told him you weren’t at home, but he wanted you to know that there’s been another development in your most recent case. He wanted you to call him. The number is 531-1809. Love, Abby.’”

“Good girl,” Bill said. “Now be sure to show your dad that note when he gets home.”

“I will, sir.”

“Take care of yourself. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Abby hung up the phone and sighed, rubbing her temples. She was a young teenager, small for her age, which was fifteen years. Her hair was copper-blond, and her skin was lightly tanned. She wore a white long-sleeved shirt and dark blue jeans. An ordinary outfit for an ordinary girl. Her fingernails and toenails were painted shocking pink. Her eyes were chocolate brown, and her face was average in looks and shape. Except for the single thin pale pink scar that started above her left eyebrow, cut across her eye and trailed down her cheek. A reminder of why she and her father lived alone.

Her father, Steven Lockwood, was a homicide detective. He often worked late, and sometimes stayed away for a few days, leaving Abby alone to feed herself. Not that she couldn’t--she was a pretty good cook. But it did get a bit annoying sometimes, that her father spent more time at work interrogating criminals and studying countless clues left at crime scenes than he spent with her.

But she couldn’t complain…the time she did spend with her dad was probably the time when she felt the safest. After all, it was her dad who had stopped the one who had given her the scar on her face from killing her. It was her dad who protected her, loved her as only a father could.

Except…

Abigail’s father wasn’t home very often…and when he was home, it was for a few hours at most, before he had to get back to work.

Many times she had begged him to take a safer job…fearing that he’d be killed on the job. But he always told her gently that he couldn’t give up his job. So all the time he was gone, Abby prayed for him…hoped desperately that he’d come home safely.

The phone rang again, jerking Abby from her thoughts. She set down her pencil and reached for the phone again. She pressed the Talk button so the phone was turned on, and began to speak. “Lockwood residence, Abigail Lockwood speak--”

“Abby? Oh, thank God, I’m so glad you answered. I’m afraid there’s bad news.”

Abby stood up so fast she toppled her desk chair and sent the papers on her desk flying in every direction. “Bad news about what?” she asked desperately. “Not my father? Please, don’t say it’s my father!”

“I’m afraid it is, Abby. Your father…oh, God, how can I say this?” The person on the other end of the line sounded close to tears. “Your father’s been shot. He was sent to the hospital, but--”

“Don’t tell me he’s dead,” Abby whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, don’t let him be dead…”

“No. No, he’s not dead, but he’s in the emergency room. It looks bad.”

“How bad?!”

“He was shot in the chest. Oh God Abby, I’m so sorry.”

The phone fell from Abby’s hand and she sank onto her knees, tears streaming from her eyes. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

“Abby? Abby, are you there?”

Silently, Abby moved her hand to the phone and pressed the talk button, hanging up. Rude, perhaps…but she needed a minute alone to come to terms with the fact that after today, she might be an orphan.

*********

Abby couldn’t quite grasp what she’d just been told. Her father had been shot and was now lying injured or dead on a hospital bed. Without registering what she was doing, she picked up the phone and got to her feet, returning the receiver to its proper place. She righted her chair and began picking up and reorganizing the papers she’d knocked flying. Then, once she’d tidied up, she walked to the door of her room and turned the knob. She opened the door silently, turning off the light as she left the room. She reached for her overcoat, which was navy blue denim and had ripped sleeves, and buttoned up in the front. She had to visit the hospital, to see if her father was really wounded.

Then, halfway through slipping the coat on, she hesitated. What was she doing? Was she really going to take the chance and believe something some stranger over the phone had told her? She had to be nuts!

No. I can’t take that risk. I am my father’s only child, she thought firmly. She started to take the coat off again. But then, a little doubt in her head made her stop. …But what if my father really is dying? He’d want me to be there with him.

Firmly, Abby jerked the coat back on properly and began to button it up. I have to make sure…even if this is just some setup. I have to be sure if my father’s okay or not.

She strode to the front door and pushed it open, stepping outside. She turned to close the door, and froze mid-step. Did she see a pair of glowing red eyes staring at her from between the branches of one of the bushes growing beside the house?

The eyes blinked, slowly. Abby slammed the door shut, snatched the key from under the mat, and fumbled to get it into the lock. When she looked back at the bush, the eyes were gone. Still frightened, the teen turned and ran down the sidewalk in the direction of the hospital.

OoOoO

When she arrived, she was startled to see that none of the police officers who worked with her father were there. Instead, one tall man sat waiting, his onyx-colored eyes cold and unfriendly. With a slight shiver, Abby approached the counter and spoke to the nurse behind it, who was typing rapidly on a computer.

“Excuse me,” Abby said. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was told that my father was moved here after being shot during an investigation. His name is Steven Lockwood.”

The nurse looked up briefly and moved one hand to the mouse, beginning to click through some files. “How recently did you hear this?” she questioned.

“Today,” the young teen replied. “At around 2:30.”

The nurse clicked one final time and shook her head. “Sorry, kid. No ‘Steven Lockwood’s were moved here at 2:30 today.”

Abby was confused. “But I was told--”

“Sorry to intrude,” a deep voice interrupted. Abby turned her head to see the man with the cold black eyes standing just behind her. “But I believe I know who you’re speaking of. In fact…” He paused, and Abby could’ve sworn his eyes flashed flaming red. If that didn’t freak her out, his next words did.

“…I’ve been waiting for you, Abigail Lockwood.”

*********

The young teen froze, not daring to turn around. She heard a dark chuckle, felt the man rest a hand on her shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye, saw him lean down so that the tip of his chin was almost resting on top of his hand. “Oh, come now, don’t be shy,” the man murmured, his hot breath brushing her ear and making her shiver in disgust. “I don’t bite.”

“Sorry, but I don’t talk to perverted men,” Abigail snapped, adjusting her coat and pushing past the man, knocking his hand off of her shoulder in the process as she strode quickly to the door. However, his slim, cold fingers wrapped around her wrist, and held her in a viselike grip.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave, Abby,” he stated.

“And why not?” she snapped back, scratching at the man’s wrist and trying to get him to release her. He smiled back, his teeth gleaming in a sinister way.

“Because, if you don’t do as I say, my assassins will have your father killed.”

Abby froze. Her voice shaking slightly, she whispered, “Leave my father out of this.” She felt one of the man’s hands brush her face.

“So young…so full of life…just like my Cataluna…” he murmured, caressing her cheek. Then, he leaned towards the crook of her neck; she could feel his hot breath brushing her skin, and she fought the urge to shiver in disgust. The next few seconds were a blur--a flash of inhuman fangs, a blinding, stabbing pain in her neck, and someone screamed in fear and agony. Dizziness washed over the young woman, and though she struggled fiercely against the man’s grip, soon her efforts died down, and she let out a whimper.

She could feel herself slipping into darkness. She made one last effort to get away, looking up into flame-colored eyes, before she fell unconscious.

*********
Last edited by Hopeflower on Wed Aug 13, 2008 2:57 am, edited 3 times in total.
"Gotta have a little sadness once in a while so you know when the good times come."
"Talent is a pursued interest. In other words, anything that you're willing to practice, you can do." ~ Bob Ross

"The future is always uncertain and painful but it must be lived." ~ Unknown
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Postby Doc 42 » Wed Jul 30, 2008 11:19 pm

Good Introduction. lots of description. And yes, of course you should continue it. Whats the point of starting a story and leaving it there? Forgotten.
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Postby Hopeflower » Thu Jul 31, 2008 7:18 am

Thanks Doc. First chapter's up.
"Gotta have a little sadness once in a while so you know when the good times come."
"Talent is a pursued interest. In other words, anything that you're willing to practice, you can do." ~ Bob Ross

"The future is always uncertain and painful but it must be lived." ~ Unknown
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Postby Doc 42 » Thu Jul 31, 2008 2:32 pm

Good chapter, the first conversation with Bill told me alot about Abby and how she lived, which was strange in a cool way. The last part with Abby being called about her dad was a bit strange. Over the phone doesnt exactly seem like the most profeisional way to tell an only child that her father has been shot. Though that could suggest all isn't as it seems aswell.
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Postby Hopeflower » Sat Aug 02, 2008 2:44 am

Thanks you. ^_^

Next chapter's up.
"Gotta have a little sadness once in a while so you know when the good times come."
"Talent is a pursued interest. In other words, anything that you're willing to practice, you can do." ~ Bob Ross

"The future is always uncertain and painful but it must be lived." ~ Unknown
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Postby Doc 42 » Sat Aug 02, 2008 5:21 pm

A bit breif, but interesting non-theless. Description was good, just it seemed to end too early.
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Postby Hopeflower » Wed Aug 13, 2008 3:01 am

Next chapter's up.

It's short, but for a reason--I needed a cliffie before switching POV again. The fifth chapter will be written in a new charrie's POV. (Actually, that's not entirely true. If you look, you should be able to figure out who the 'Cataluna' the man mentioned is--and who the man is himself.)
"Gotta have a little sadness once in a while so you know when the good times come."
"Talent is a pursued interest. In other words, anything that you're willing to practice, you can do." ~ Bob Ross

"The future is always uncertain and painful but it must be lived." ~ Unknown
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