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Old 04-15-2006, 05:59 PM   #1
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Default Story: The Vampyre


I thought I'd post up this story, it's not Adventure-Fantasy and I'd like some feedback.

I have mixed feelings about this story, I think I returned to writing it without the same enthusiasm as I started and it possibly shows.


Who could ever conceive the harm that a false fantasy could do? If a story is to be told, it is the Teller’s duty to relay it properly. It is with this in mind that I begin this cautionary tale of an incident that may have been avoided if it were not for those who have come before me setting falsities down in text. Take heed, this is the story of ‘The Vampyre’.

Rachel, like most girls of her age, was suggestible. Not her dominant characteristic perhaps, but it was certainly in her makeup. Like many of her generation, she had a passion for all things dark and gothic, for that which fed and filled the vast chasm of confusion torn open by adolescence. She filled the darkness with darkness, mystery with mystery, ignorance with ignorance.

Retreating into dark fantasy to hide from a reality she was not yet prepared to face, she found a wealth of artistic works that appealed to her sensibilities. She studied the dark and the disturbing with the forlorn languor that only a disillusioned teenager can properly manage. The macabre and the perverse were the playgrounds in which she spent her dream-filled days and nights.

With age came more bitter experience to lament, fuelling her already unhealthy obsession with the shadow-side of humanity. It was not long before she was hooked, as thousands upon thousands of others like her were, on vampire mythology. She was amazed by the darkness and eroticism of it all, the notion of sex and death being inseparable, indistinguishable sometimes. She had caps created for her canines when she was 16 and in autumn of the same year, she drank another person’s blood for the first time. It was an awkward experience, the offer extended to her by another such as her in some dark back room of a nightclub. His neck was slick with sweat, and the knife he used to prick the flesh seemed dirty and dull. The blood itself tasted unclean – the entire experience was not erotic, it was dirty. Perhaps that was exactly what she wanted.

Months later, she heard a most bizarre rumour – here, in her very own city, was a vampire. At first she thought the rumours were bogus, they had to be, but as more and more detail was added by the various sources she enquired with, her doubt began to melt away. A real vampire, a being that had lived for centuries, that had loved countless partners, had fed of humanity and lived in the darkness of existence was on her doorstep. Could he be contacted? She would lay awake and imagine the tall, pale-featured man beside her, grasping her wrists firmly with a grip as cold as ice. His breath was sickly, heavy with the smell of blood. He would force himself upon her, feeding off her, initiating her into his nighttime world. Waves of euphoric ecstasy wracked her body night after night, until she finally decided her time to depart from the land of the living had come – she must find her vampire.

She had heard from 3 separate people that he lived in the Steel Quarter in the North Side. This was not the most glamorous of locations, but regardless she took the Number 23 bus to there on that fateful April evening. Urban squalor was all around her as she looked out of the window, watching blocks of houses pass by in a blur. The seat she was sitting on was as uncomfortable as hell and stank of stale piss. She looked at the other occupants of the bus; gaunt, slumped individuals with the continence of zombies. She would be glad to be rid of all this once she had been embraced as a vampire.

With these thoughts running around in her head, the bus rocked and squeaked on until its destination. The bus terminated at Rachel’s stop – in this city there was nowhere else to go after the Steel Quarter, it was the end of the known world. She stepped off into the ever-dwindling light and made her way to Jade Street. Only one person had been specific when giving the home of her mysterious stranger, explaining that the rumour was he lived near a storm drain that opened up onto the sea.

By the time she reached this destination, the sun had set. The place was illuminated by the putrescent orange of the streetlamps and the air reeked of sewage. This was not what Rachel had pictured in those nighttime fantasies. However, he goal was so close now that she pushed on, stepping off the sidewalk and descending the stairs to the platform where the storm drain came out. The stench was strongest here, she had to fight back nausea as she stuck her head inside and called out, trying to alert someone in there.

The shadows shifted in the back of the drain, and there was the unmistakeable splashing of human reaction in the ankle high sewage flowing towards Rachel. She stepped into the drain slowly and cautiously, announcing herself again to the stranger. This time, the shadow turned round fully to face her, a pair of rodent-like eyes shining in the light from the drain mouth. Something was not quite right with the figure, something in it’s posture – more animal than man. Before Rachel had a chance to regret her decision to come, to turn around and run as fast as she could back home, back to safety, the creature rushed her.

Flying out of the darkness was a monster. Not the handsomely elegant vampire of Rachel’s dreams. The probing fingers went straight for her arms, the long pointed nails drawing blood where they scratched across her flesh. The abnormally long and thin fingers had an unholy strength to them; the grip around her was unforgiving. It pulled her face close to his, examining her. His eyes where pure black and shining, no pupil was to be seen. Muck was caked around the rims of his eyes – eyes that hand not blinked in over a thousand years. His huge, bald head was drawn and skull-like, only wisps of black hair broke up the vast expanse of greasy, grey skin. It’s nose was hooked and long, the skin wrinkled at the top in a fixed grimace set by the prominent brow. Most awful of all was his black pit of a mouth, dripping with thick black scum. The blackened, rotted gums boasted only 2 teeth – a pair of oversized canines, glittering in the dark. The breath he exhaled smelled of ancient faeces and rotted flesh so powerfully that Rachel emptied the contents of her stomach down her top as an instant gut reaction.

Before she could recover enough to even scream, the beast swung her round and pulled her back to his bony chest, covered by much decayed black linen. With bestial swiftness, he bit deep into the top of her head, his two teeth tearing through hair, flesh and bone as if it were paper. All Rachel could do was gag and cough as her aggressor shook her head back and forth as he fed. She began to feel faint, the world began to blur before her and her entire body began to tingle from head to toe. She felt something hard begin to rub against the base of her spine; the creature’s penis, swollen from the blood stolen from her, was growing hard after generations of being dormant and flaccid.

With one powerful movement, teeth still stuck in her skull, the monster threw her face first into the raw sewage and began to sodomise her roughly while he fed. The sewage swimming around her head entered her mouth and nose and she drew her last, ragged breaths.

The beast thought to itself as it sated it’s every desire on the girl, “foolish child. I am not as I have been painted by your kind. I am a creature of destruction, not creation. I plant no seeds, create no children. I feed upon the living until they are dead, but not dead like me. I shall live forever, until it is my duty to kill the creator himself. Then, and only then, I shall turn upon myself and devour the only creature left in the world. For I am the one true constant – I am the death of all.”

By Liam Welton
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Old 04-17-2006, 07:34 AM   #2
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I've got to say, one thing I really enjoy in all of two works I've read of yours is your storytelling and description. It's extremely well done.
As for the story as a whole, it was good. Character development was well established, your descriptions were quite nice (though the penis thing could have been done without imo), very few gramatical mistakes (if any) and the story (like your last) had a nice flow.
The next thing to work on might be to work on theme. Theme is like a moral of a story, but not really. It's what the writer wants to convey to the reader.
You had a theme here, it was "beware of darkness" (to put it in my own words). However, you might want a deeper one next time.
Anyways, great work.

Thanks to SkriK for making the image.
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Old 04-17-2006, 05:00 PM   #3

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Overall it's dark and messy, exactly the thing I think you were trying to capture. The penus thing in my opinion was just to top the grotesqueness with even more horrid stuff, and it worked. The thing I didn't like however was the monologue in the end.
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