Post by Vara on Apr 24, 2008 3:41:14 GMT -5
Alright, well I know that activity here's been a little low. Perhaps a story might perk it up? I'm planning on posting this on FictionPress as soon as I have more of it mapped out. For now, this is sorta a trial. Any feedback would be well appreciated ;D
CHAPTER ONE
It was rare that you would find a dark alleyway in this area of the neighbourhood. It was such a nice suburb. Smiling neighbours, mild tempered cats and dogs, and polite kids. But at night time, things seemed to change. At night time, the town went under a well concealed cloud of eeriness. I’d never seen anything like it. It was as if the townspeople knew exactly what was out there, but knew well enough not to speak about it, and were clever enough not to step off their property as soon as the sun came down.
Usually I had to work hard to keep up appearances. But here, I had to work twice as hard. If the people knew what I knew, I would probably be burnt at the stake. I’d be branded a witch of some sort. Except that they would have it all wrong. Because I was on their side.
There was a slight rustle and I froze. My back was pressed hard against the rough concrete wall of the alley. The smart thing to do was to stop breathing, right? To ensure that I made no sound at all? But that wasn’t the plan. My plan made me both the ambush, and the bait. It was an old set up. I pretended to be a helpless little girl and when the attacker got close enough, I pulled out a dart gun that was loaded with more than just tranquilisers and took him out. That was the plan running through my head.
I knew that the person approaching could hear my breathing, and the beating of my heart. He could probably also smell me; it was a pretty windless evening and he had a very sharp sense of smell. Then footsteps came to my ears; they became louder, closer. My heart beat faster at the anticipation of the fight and I pushed myself off the wall.
The man standing there couldn’t be called a man at all. He was rather young, perhaps a year or two older than my seventeen years. He made no effort to conceal his pleasure, in fact he smiled widely. It was a creepy smile, one that showed a glint of his white teeth in the light from the streetlamps. His dark eyes watched me coldly, and I could see the beginning of the transformation. A small amount of light began to reflect shards of colour in the young man’s eyes. Specks of gold and green were filtering into his dark irises and the result made him look even scarier.
“You must be new to town.” His voice was like syrup, yet another tool to pull in his prey. He pressed his lips together and I could see little indents in his lower lips – fangs. His eyes were now a golden green colour: the transformation was complete.
“Not in a metaphorical sense,” I spoke clearly, pulling out the dart gun. The darts in the magazine were filled with a poisonous serum. If it touched the skin of someone like you or me, we’d be dead before sun up. That was how strong it was. To kill someone like the man standing before me, it needed to be injected into the heart. And that’s where the fun set in.
Before I could get the gun aimed in his general direction, the attacker was all of a sudden standing very closer to me. I could feel warmth seeping away, as if his coldness was taking over. In a flash, his hand was gripped around my arm and I was pushed up against the alley wall. I didn’t struggle – there was no point – he was much stronger than me and struggling would just give me a few more bruises than I needed.
He was no longer laid back and casual. The intense look in his eyes was filled with hatred and yearning. Yearning to kill, of course. That kind of look scared me to no end the first few times. But I’d been doing this for so long now that it didn’t faze me as much as it should. The golden gaze instilled a physiological fear within all human beings, and it did the same to me. But I knew how to harness that fear. Except that my only weapon was trapped at my side. As calm and collected as I tried to be, my heart betrayed me. It hammered in my chest, sending more blood to my brain, and made my cheeks warm.
I knew the man could hear it too. He smiled sadistically down at me, his lips parting and his delicate fangs mocking me. And then my luck kicked in.
A car sped past the alleyway – probably someone trying to get home as fast as he or she could. But the sound was enough to distract the attacker. He faltered, pulling back slightly to look up at the sound. I raised my foot, bracing myself against the wall, and pushed hard at his stomach.
It worked. My heart beat even faster in elation and adrenaline.
The attacker stumbled back, from surprise more than from the force of the kick. And I used that extra metre of space to my advantage. In a flash, the gun was raised in front of me, it went off and a dart shot into the attacker’s chest. His eyes filled with shock and pain. His already pallid face paled even more, and I could see the muscles in his jaw clench in an effort to find some control.
I stepped forward, pressed the gun into the left region of his chest and sent another dart of poison into his heart. The young boy stumbled, a strange groaning sound escaping his lips. The poison coursed through his system quickly, and within a minute he was convulsing on the ground.
My feet shuffled backwards automatically, revulsion caught in my throat. Sitting down on a ledge, I waited for the poison to take full effect. A few minutes later the convulsing stopped and within the next ten seconds, I knew the real magic would begin. It was now that the poison had attached itself to every particle of his body. He began to rot away in a matter of seconds, and once it was done I was left with nothing but a sticky puddle of dead dust enveloping two empty dart shells. The smell was terrible, but it would be gone after an hour or so.
Putting on a pair of latex gloves, I glanced around quickly. If there had been a car driving around, someone might have found their way to where a gun had just been shot. All in the name of curiosity, of course. The night was void of any other sounds, and I reached into the puddle. I held my breath and the tips of my fingers emerged from the pool of deadness with two empty shells. Wrapping my hand around the two darts, I swiftly made my way towards my car.
Finally have escaped the horrific smelled, I breathed easy. Dropping the dart shells into an empty film canister and taking off my gloves, I allowed the warmth of my old car filter in through my skin. The adrenaline was wearing off and fatigue washed over me in waves.
“Ashleigh?”
I turned around at the sound of my name. As with every other night after I’d gone hunting, I was a zombie today. I knew I looked terrible: my hair was a mess, my skin grey and there were dark shadows beneath my eyes, but I felt worse. I hated having to go to school everyday, it was so irrelevant. Such an inconvenience.
Because of what I did two or three times a week, the other students at school didn’t like me very much. Not that they knew about it. But hunting made me very antisocial. I never had the energy or the motivation to talk to anyone when it wasn’t completely necessary. So the fact that someone had called out for me was a surprise in itself. When I saw who it was, my surprise multiplied tenfold.
Drew Clovers. He had everything going for him and he’d never spoken a word to me before. Drew was good looking, intelligent, athletic and popular. Not that it mattered to me. The boy could be royalty and he wouldn’t matter to me unless he was a vampire.
“Yeah?” I knew my voice came out a little impatient, and I hadn’t exactly wanted to come off like that.
“You weren’t in first period today.” He looked uncomfortable. I raised an eyebrow. Why would Drew Clovers care whether I was in class or not?
“Yeah. I slept in.” There was a moment of awkwardness. I was waiting for him to say something, and it seemed that he was trying to figure out what he needed to tell me.
“Uh, for our Art class, right?” He looked up as if I need to confirm the fact. I nodded, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “Well we have that collaboration assignment coming up. And Mr Lambert assigned us to work together.” A breath escaped his mouth, as if he’d been holding it in. Was it that hard to say?
I nodded. “Alright then. Well I’ll see you in Art tomorrow. We can work on it then.” Drew looked rather shocked that it had been that easy. His expression relaxed as I stepped around him and made my way to my second period class. English. The joys of a twelfth grader.
Unfortunately, bumping into Drew had made me late for English, and as I made my way to my usual seat near the back of the room, all eyes were on me. I kept my eyes low and sat down. That’s when I realised that they hadn’t been looking at me. A new student was standing at the front of the room, handing Mrs Fisher a slip. He must have been walking in right behind me.
Now a new student isn’t a huge deal. It was a large school and newcomers enrolled throughout the year. But we were halfway through our Senior year and changing schools so close to finals was always a change. The other reason the entire class was staring at him was that he was more attractive than any other student in our year. Even more than Drew Clovers.
I opened my notebook and was about to start work but the class seemed to halt, waiting to see who this new student was. I could see why the girls were so absorbed. The guy was tall and broad-shouldered. He was facing the teacher, so I could only see his profile. But he had a strong jaw line, dark lashes and full lips that moved as he spoke to Mrs Fisher.
But I wasn’t entirely sure why the guys were staring. Perhaps they were just using it as an out before they had to start analysing Shakespeare again. Mrs Fisher said something else, and then gestured to the seat next to mine. The new student made his way down to the back row and Mrs Fisher continued on with class.
I tried my hardest to ignore the hype of the new student, and I kept my head low over my notes. Unfortunately, my luck had run out last night.
“Miss Wynne, why don’t we have you starting off this morning’s discussion? What did you think of The Taming of the Shrew?” Mrs Fisher was way too perky for nine o’clock in the morning.
My eyes went down to my notes, up at the board, and then back to the teacher. “Well, it was interesting I guess. I mean…” I finished the play two nights ago, but I hadn’t done the discussion worksheet that we’d had assigned for homework. “It’s a comedy, but its Shakespeare, so younger audiences might not necessarily appreciate the humour to its full potential.”
The teacher nodded. “What did you think of the representation of the characters?”
God, why me? I thought my answer over, and tried to sound as diplomatic as possible. “It was different. I mean, a lot of literature today represents women as strong and independent. But Shakespeare’s ideal woman, Bianca, was the opposite of that. Sort of the ‘perfect wife’, I guess.” I paused. No one was tune in anymore. “And that’s just no true anymore.” A few of the kids in the front rows had turned in their seats to watch me as I answered, and the new guy was listening too, but everyone else wasn’t paying attention.
“Annie, your view?” Mrs Fisher pointed to one of the girls in the second row. Annie Shaw looked thoughtful for a second.
“I agree to a certain extent. But Katerina wasn’t represented that way. She was much more independent than Bianca.” Annie’s voice was uncertain, as if she weren’t sure that she was saying was correct or not. But Mrs Fisher nodded again and Annie relaxed slightly.
“But Katerina was referred to as the ‘wrong’ woman throughout the play. So ‘wrong’ in her opinions that they needed to ‘fix’ her. I mean, that’s just chauvinistic,” I replied in one single breath without needing a prompt. There was a movement to my right and I turned to see the new kid putting his hand up.
“Eric?” Mrs Fisher smiled, nodding at the new guy.
“While I’m inclined to agree with…” He turned towards me, his eyes pondering for a name.
“Ashleigh,” I mumbled.
“…with Ashleigh, the play was written centuries ago. That’s how women were seen back then, and it’s a fair representation for the time.”
I frowned. Frustration bubbled within me. “That doesn’t mean its right. Bianca was seen as a trophy wife. The best she could hope for was a sex symbol. And because Katerina rebelled against that sort of view, she was punished for it.” My volume had elevated ever so slightly a few kids glanced my way.
Mrs Fisher opened her mouth to respond, but Eric was there already. “Punished is a little harsh. I mean, she changed in the end. It was her choice.”
“I would barely call it a choice. Society’s expectations were being forced down her throat. She probably thought that if she kept on acting like that, she’d be hung for being a witch or something.” At that moment, the discussion was more like a heated argument than a class debate.
The corner of Eric’s lips curved into a smirk. “Feminists today are always claiming that its about choice, right? That it doesn’t matter whether they’re a lawyer or a nurse or a housewife, as long as its their choice. Well Katerina made a choice. She embraced her independence through that, and in the end her husband respected her more.” It annoyed me at how calm he sounded. I must’ve looked like a crazy person.
But I narrowed my eyes down at my book. How could someone be so wrong? Before I could form a rebuttal, the bell rang.
“Alright class,” Mrs Fisher spoke over the scraping of chairs and chatter of kids packing up to leave. “Make sure you finish those worksheets. See you all tomorrow.” She looked rather pleased with herself. I fumed, tossing my books into my bag and leaving the classroom without looking back at Eric. How did a ten minute discussion make me so angry? I’ll admit, I have a temper problems, but it was just Shakespeare.
I soon forgot about it all, though. The rest of the day was rather uneventful, and I just couldn’t wait to get home to prepare for another night of hunting. I didn’t see Eric again, and by the time I left last period, I forgot that he even existed.
Either you're very intuitive or I'm very transparent in my writing.