Author Topic: Story Collection  (Read 6727 times)

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Serenity.neko

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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #45 on: January 13, 2011, 04:33:59 PM »
Wow, (no offense) but IT'S ABOUT TIME. :p I still like this guy, and that "May I have this dance" line made me think of the signature of someone on this website (Lance, I think it was...?) as well as a poem I wrote. Hmm, brings back happy memories...~

You're pretty good at writing, Vash; I think it'd be cool if you ever got an entire storyline and wrote a book (cuz I remember once you said you'd write a book if you got a storyline).
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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #46 on: January 30, 2011, 09:00:00 PM »
CAUTION: longer than the other stuff.

Spoiler: Lost Souls • show
I woke up and he was just... watching me. His face was as blank as that kid's was; I couldn't help but shudder at the thought. I didn't hear him come in, and the door was locked when I went to bed...

Where did he come from?

What does it mean?



 
One grey hallways leads me into another and another, then finally into the empty, grey room that I've been summonsed to way too many times for my taste. A few steps forward and I flop down into one of the chairs.

"I see you haven't acted on that interior decorating tip I gave you last time," I laugh, glancing around the room that's just as dull as its occupant.

He only stares at me. Big shocker there.

"Okay, boss, I'll do it your way. What've you got tell me this time?"

"I found Abidan."

I groan. "You're still on that wild goose chase?"

"Go get him."

"Why don't you just give up on him already? He's more trouble than he's worth!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Yeah, I do: Just leave him the hell alone already."

"Find him."

I thrust myself out of my chair and slam my palms on his desk. "Listen, small fry.  The others are too afraid to say anything, but I'm not: Just eff off it already."

And with that, I storm away from him. that is, until he says:

"I'm sure Azrael will be sorry to hear that."

"Don't you dare touch her!" I snap and turn on him.

He licks his lips and almost smiles, then repeats, "Go get him."



It's lunch time now and he's still staring at me. He's watched everything I've done, from getting out of bed to getting dressed to eating. He's seriously starting to creep me out now. He doesn't talk or do anything - not even show any emotion - unless I say something to him first. Even then he doesn't say anything, just nods or shakes his head.

What the heck is wrong with him?




The darkness recedes from the corner of my vision, revealing a quaint little room, basically empty except for the few pieces of scattered furniture pushed to the walls. By the looks of the furniture - a couch, an oven, a fridge, and a bed, all in the same room - it looks like a one room apartment. Kind of like mine, except without access to a cafeteria, and with more clashing colors, or any colors for that matter.

And, then, of course, there's him.

He has his back to me, facing the counter and some sort of food. Mexican, it seems.

"Smells good."

He spins around to face me, holding out a knife that still has bits and pieces of peppers stuck to it. "Wh- who are you?"

"I'm your guardian angel, Abidan," I tell him with an eye roll. "Who do you think I am?"

He trembles a bit, and his eyes grow wide when I use his name. "Y- you're from him!"

"Yeah, and I'm supposed to be taking you back now."

"You won't take me! I- I won't let you!"

I glance down at his cooking knife. "What are you going to do, stab me to death? You might ruin your meal, then."

"W- well... maybe he'll help me!" he shouts, outstretched arms visibly shaking. "I dunno... maybe?"

I turn to look behind me, knowing the knife couldn't hurt me even if this shinigami had enough courage to use it. There's a kid behind me, staring at me, who looks about the same age as Kanzah does. Same expression, too. I walk over to him and crouch so that I'm right at his eye level.

He just watches me.

"Did you make this, Abidan?"

"Th-  that's not my name! My name's Jordan!"

"Fine, whatever, Jordan." I turn to growl at him: "Did you do this?"

He lowers the knife and looks at me confusedly. "What do you mean...?"

"Did you-"

"He was watching me when I woke up!" he shouts. "I- I don't know where he came from, but he won't go away or say any anything or do anything unless I tell him to!"

I study them both for awhile more. Maybe that's how Kanzah found him? Considering he has to keep track of how and when and where humans are supposed to die, a soulless shell suddenly appearing would probably tip him off pretty well.

I raise my hand and wave if in front of the shell's face. It watches my hand. I force my hand forward and it goes right through the kid's head. It keeps watching me.

"What the heck was that?" I hear Jordan or Abidan or whoever squeak behind me.

Groaning at my soreness, I stand up and turn back to him. "It's not even physical. It's just a copy, or a shell or whatnot. A doll, I guess."

"And you said I... made him?"

"It, yeah." I give him a long, discerning look up and down. "You're new to the whole shinigami thing, aren't you."

He falters for a moment, then sighs, drops the knife to his side, and falls against the counter behind him. "I don't even know what the heck you're talking about," he admits as he lets his head drop as well. "One moment I'm just trying to get by on my own, the next I'm hit with a car, then I wake up beneath some random kid in some random grey room, and then I'm... falling... through darkness... and it's cold..."

"You get used to it eventually," I offer.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this!" he says and almost stabs a cupboard. "You're just here to take me back to him."

"I didn't say that."

"But you-"

"I said I'm supposed to bring you back, not that I was going to."

"Y- You're not here to take me back to him?"

"Nah. I'm just going to hide out here long enough for him to be happy. To be honest, I don't really give a damn about you."

"Thanks, I guess..."

"Don't mention it."

A few awkward seconds pass by in which I realize the doll is gone, and the room looks even more empty than when I came in. The half-made meal he was working on when I came in is still on the counter, exuding the strong scent of peppers and onions. Definitely mexican food.

I glance up at the clock on the opposite wall. "Well, now's as good a time as any."

He looks at me. "What?"

"It's nothing personal, but now that you know you can make those dolls, I can't have you trying to make more of them. Don't want to have to come back here and actually do something about you. So stand still."

"Wait, what are you?" he stammers, but shuts up as I place my hand to his forehead.

"Don't worry. In a few minutes, it'll be like nothing ever happened."

I delve into his mind and slowly begin to cover over the memories of the past half an hour or so. His eyes grow cloudy as he slumps to the floor, almost crumpling in a heap before I'm finished. In a few seconds, though, he's unconscious on the floor, completely ignorant of anything that just happened to him.

"And I'll take that," I say, grabbing the knife out of his hands and placing it on the counter. "Wouldn't want you getting any ideas waking up and seeing that in your hand."

And with that I drag his bulky form back to bed and leave him behind, unharmed save for his memories.



"Where is he?" Kanzah asks, notably annoyed even without the aid of any expression he doesn't have on his face.
 answer him with a sound halfway between a 'pfleh' and a 'hmph.'

"Why didn't you bring him back?"

"It was a false alarm," I lie to him. "Nothing where you said but a cute old couple not even old enough yet to be on your usual list."

I watch him blankly and he gives me would would probably be a glare if he could muster it.

"Go back to your room," he finally says, "and await further orders."

I slide out of the chair and head towards the door. "Gladly."



I woke up later than usual today. I had the strangest dream. I had woken up, and was about to start making lunch, then I woke up for real. I must have been too tired to change out of my clothes lat night, because I was still wearing them when I woke up.

The weirdest part, though, was that, when I went to make myself lunch, there was already food out and partially prepared. It wasn't just any food, though: it was the food I was going to make in my dream.

So many things don't add up; I'm completely lost.

What's going on?




So, yeah, if you're completely lost, that's okay xD The main narrator is Machiel. He's a shinigami~ The italics are Jordan/Abidan (the name Kanzah gave him). He's a shinigami, too, but he's pathetic at it and doesn't do his job and ran away and that's why Kanzah was looking for him and yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaah....

Anyways, this was fun~

Also, the original version had italics built-in to some of the dialogue, and I don't want to take the time to find them, so you're only getting part of it :P Ta ta!
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Merlandese

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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #47 on: January 30, 2011, 09:33:31 PM »

XD That was good! It seems like an excerpt from a longer story, which makes me wish there were a couple more chapters. Thanks for sharing.



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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #48 on: January 30, 2011, 09:46:48 PM »
Haha, thanks, Merlan! They (minus Jordan) have another beginning of a story, but it was very experimental, and hasn't gotten very far. Maybe after the one I'm working on now I'll pick it back up, but I've got a bad track record for that :P
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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #49 on: February 13, 2011, 08:06:07 PM »
Spoiler: Light and Darkness • show
          If the voices are to be believed, I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m one of the ones that actually knows what real light is, who has actually seen real light. Although I’m starting to wonder now if that truly makes me lucky. The memory of the now unobtainable light haunts me all the time. I used to think every so often that I saw a light, peeking through this eternal darkness, but it just grew dimmer and dimmer and now I can’t see the light at all. After I stopped seeing it, I used to stand in front of the fridge with the door open, entranced by the tiny bit of light that wasn’t swallowed up by the darkness. But then the Darkness found out what I was doing, and it turned off the light.

            Now I live in this house all alone, with no light to comfort me whatsoever. All that’s here for me is the darkness and the voices. I don’t like to listen to the voices, though. They tell me things I don’t want to hear, like you’ll never get out and it doesn’t matter if you get out because there’s no one outside waiting for you we’re all you have and nobody loves you.

            I think the voices have been getting louder, too. Sometimes they feel so close that it’s impossible to ignore them, and I almost start to believe them.

            That’s when things started showing up on the table. First it was a gun, and then it was a noose, and then it was a knife, and then it was a bottle of poison. There’s always a note that comes along with it, and it always says the same thing: “You know what to do with it. The Darkness is your friend.” It scares me.

            I tried to ignore the voices and the gifts and the darkness, and instead searched the house. I still can’t find my way out, though. I’ve tried to leave the way I came, but whenever I walk towards the door is just seems farther and farther away. I’ve tried to climb the stairs, tried to maybe rise above all the things down here, but then the Darkness always pulls me back down and yells at me How could you try to leave we protect you we’re everything you ever know you worthless piece of trash no one loves you. When that happens, I believe them, and huddle and cry.

            One day, as I tried to escape, I finally decided that I would take the only way out I knew. I made my way back to the table; there was a gun on it this time. It was such a short distance away from me, and it felt like I was being pushed closer than I ever thought possible, and all along the Darkness whispered to me yes do it the only way you can leave is by doing it no one would miss you if you did it because nobody loves you you’re just worthless.

            I reached my hand out to the gun. It was cold, but it felt good. I wrapped my arms around the hand, feeling the trigger. It felt as if it were custom made to fit my hand. When the nozzle hit the temple of my head, the Darkness got louder, screaming lies and comfort to me.

            But that’s when I saw it again.

            It was light, but at the same time it wasn’t light. Sitting in a chair at the other end of the table, it looked like light, but it also looked like a person.

            He said nothing to me, and I realized that the Darkness was no longer addressing me. It wasn’t even saying anything. It almost seemed like it was cowering from the light that the person was emitting.

            The person then walked up to me, took hold of the gun, and laid it back onto the table. When he hugged me, I made no move to stop him. His embrace was warm, and it felt like true comfort, not like the comfort that the Darkness offered me. The Darkness was screaming at me again, but I could no longer hear it or understand what it said. All I knew was how good being with this person felt. It finally felt like I belonged, like I had found the reason I had lasted through all these horrifying moments.

            I looked up into his eyes, and he looked into mine. There was such love in them; it made me cry, like I didn’t deserve it. But in those eyes was also compassion that told me he didn’t care if I didn’t deserve it. He would give it to me anyways.

            Then he took my hand, and led me to the door. I felt hollow, because I knew that every time I opened the door I saw more of the same, but this time sunlight flooded into the house. The darkness receded, and the voices faded away, and all that was left was me and him.

            He wrapped me in his arms one more time, and then disappeared through the door. I didn’t mind, though. I could still feel his arms around me, I could still feel his love and compassion and kindness, and I knew that somehow he was still with me, even when I couldn’t see him.

            I knew that there truly was someone out there that loved me. That would miss if I had gone through with what I was going to. And I knew he was always going to be watching me.

            I had once again found light.


I'm too lazy to put the italics in where they should be :P If you really want them, check my facebook ;D
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Serenity.neko

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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #50 on: February 15, 2011, 02:07:54 PM »
LAZY LAZY. Good stories, in any case. I like the last one a lot, but reading about Machi was cool. He seemed to go through a lot of trouble for Abidan for "not giving a damn about him". :p Oh, well.
"I like old houses. They make me feel sad."
"How is that a good thing?"
"Sad is happy for deep people."

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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #51 on: February 24, 2011, 03:01:48 PM »
Did he? :salbrow: It wasn't as much as 'I don't give a damn about you' as 'I don't give a damn about what I'm supposed to be doing to you.' He knows Abidan is harmless, so he's not going to go through the trouble to drag him kicking and screaming back to Kanzah, since he and Kanzah aren't exactly on good terms.

So right now I'm working on a story that probably won't be too long. I just want to see some input from the people who read my stories here: Would you rather me post it all at once when it's nice and polished, or in updates like I do on facebook (and then post it up once again, conglomerated and all shiny and stuff)?
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Avarlie

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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #52 on: February 26, 2011, 07:37:33 AM »
I vote for updates. Each update is something to look forward to and I can't read lengthy stories off the computer screen for some reason.

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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #53 on: February 26, 2011, 07:06:07 PM »
Mm, I've heard of people having that problem. Anyone else wanna vote, or should I just take wolves' vote? (And I suppose that if they don't wanna see updates, they can just not look at them! :P)
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Merlandese

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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #54 on: February 26, 2011, 07:18:05 PM »
I don't have an opinion on the products length, but I would prefer only reading material that is past the rough draft stage. I like to read things that have been corrected as much as possible, cared for by the author more than once, and with as few mistakes as can be managed, so I don't get jolted out of the story by a small typo or oversight.



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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #55 on: February 26, 2011, 09:55:15 PM »
Hmm, yeah, either way, I'm going to try to be editing them before I put them up (usually with my updates I actually don't, but the updates for this story are going to few and longer than usual, so I'm hoping I'll actually keep up with it).

So it sounds like the people have spoken unanimously so far! I may or may not post up the short prologue I wrote a few days ago. Right now the update is 9 pages, written, and it's almost done I think. Yupyup!

EDIT: Did I say I might post up the prologue? I meant I will :P

*Working title
Spoiler: Werewolves of London (Prologue) • show

   Judas never lets the church fall out of its usual state of ruin. That’s probably because he never wants it to look welcoming. He wants the church to look as dead on the outside as most of its occupants on the inside were.
   He succeeds, too. The best way to look unfriendly is to make the first things people see a graveyard and some dead trees. Once they open the large, creaky gate, they have to walk down the path that’s sometimes barely visible through the scraggly grass. If they haven’t turned back by then, they finally come to the large, menacing door. The door is one of the few things that isn’t in a state of disrepair, but that doesn’t stop it from being as creepy as everything else is. If they get that far and knock, and if the priest inside actually deems them worthy of an answer, that answer usually is a dismissal.
   Unless you’re someone like me. Not that I’m proud of that. But, proud of it or not, he opens the door for me, and for other ‘creatures of the night,’ as he often times likes to call us.
This time, when I knock on the door, he opens it up immediately, as if he’s been watching for me. He does that sometimes.
   “Pack your bags, Kai; we’re going to London. Oh, wait; you probably don’t have any bags to pack, do you.”
   All I do is stare at him for awhile. “You mean you’re going to London.”
   “No, you’re coming with me.”
   “I can’t just leave! I’ve got work!” I protest.
   “No, you don’t. I contacted your boss the other day. He’s given you enough time off.”
   I give him another long stare. “You talked to my boss?”
   “Yes,” he says simply, then adds with his usual smirk, “You don’t mind, do you?”
   “Well, I kind of like to keep my work life and my night life separate,” I respond, glaring at him even though I’m sure it doesn’t faze him at all.
   “Well, you’ve really no say in the matter. Pack your bags and meet back here at seven tomorrow. The trip to London is going to be long, and we’re starting off early.”
   Without giving me time to respond, he slams the door in my face. He does that a lot, too.
   And that’s how I’ve found myself on my way to London on another one of Judas’ so-called ‘business trips.’ I really have no idea why I’m here, or why Judas is even going, but I suppose this is the price I pay for leeching off of his spoiled food so often.
   The one thing I am sure of, knowing Judas’ ‘work’ habits, is that this trip is going to be quite the adventure.


So, yeah. For any of you who have been following my stuff for awhile, this is another thing with some of the characters from the Vampyra universe, cuz ever since I wrote that I've been wanting to give Kai a sequel, but haven't thought of a plot. Well, now I have. And with all of the stuff I've written in this universe, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside~
« Last Edit: February 26, 2011, 10:14:31 PM by Vasha »
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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #56 on: February 28, 2011, 07:56:12 PM »
Spoiler: Werewolves of London (Day One) • show
       Judas is sitting in front of me with his nose buried in the Bible (I actually find that surprising) when the carriage pulls to a stop. The door opens a few seconds later. Judas winces as our dark sitting areas is filled with light, grumbles something I probably don’t want to understand, and slams his book shut with no respect towards what it is.

            “Thank you,” I say quietly to our driver as I hop onto the ground.

            Judas follows me, still complaining to himself. Our driver takes our luggage from the top of our vehicle and hands it to us. Judas snatches his suitcase from the man’s hand; I take my bag and thank him again.

            “So… where’s the train station?” I ask him, looking around.

            “We’re walking,” he says and shoots a glare in my direction.

            A whip cracks behind us and the carriage races away. Judas marches forward. I know enough not to talk to him when he’s in a mood like this, and so I occupy myself instead with studying the big city. Honestly, it doesn’t look very different from Cawthorne. It’s more well-kept, that’s for sure, but after awhile, buildings all look the same. The real difference is the sound. Everybody who passes by seems to be shouting their conversation to those walking beside them. It’s so loud that I can hardly make out three words in the sea of noise.

            Judas leads me down a few different streets before we arrive at the train station. The train looks like it just came in, and already people are bursting onto the street without the walls I expected to keep them in.

            “I’ll find my guest. Stay put,” he tells me and disappears into the crowd.

            I make my way into the crowd as well, trying my best to run into as few people as possible. It’s hard, though, in a giant mob of people. I’m tossed around for awhile before a hand grabs me and pulls me to the edge of the station.

            “What were you going in there for?”

            I give myself a few seconds to let the world stop spinning, then look up at my savior. A girl is smiling at me. Her energetic, blue eyes are gliding over me; I probably look like a mess. She pushes a lock of black hair behind her ear and drums her fingers on her arm. I realize I’m staring instead of answering her.

            “I’m… not really sure.”

            “Oh, so you’re one of those people.”

            “‘Those people?’”

            “You know: tourists and stuff. Don’t worry, I don’t mind. I like tourists.” She smiles disarmingly at me. “My name’s Jane, by the way.”

            “I’m Kai,” I respond, waving at her sheepishly.

            She grabs my hand and shakes it briskly. “Nice to meet you, Kai! Now listen: if you’re trying to get on a train, then you can’t just dash in there. You have to wait until the crowd clears. Just make sure you don’t miss your chance.”

            “I’m not trying to get on a train!” I blurt out, not missing my chance when she takes a breath.

            She blinks at me. “Then what are you doing at the train station?”

            “Judas has to meet someone here, and he decided to take me along, I guess.”

            “Judas is your… father?” she asks.

            I almost gag at the thought. “Church father, anyways.”

            “Who’s he meeting with?”

            “I’m not sure, actually,” I admit.

            We both scan the crowd. I’m not sure who she’s looking for since she doesn’t know what he looks like, but I’m looking for Judas. Even though the crowd is thinning, I can’t find him.

            “So, how long are you staying for?” she asks and turns to me.

            “Probably just a day or so.”

            Another five minutes pass and the station is emptied, except for a few stragglers. We look fro Judas again, but still don’t find him.

            Jane sighs and saunters forward. “So, I guess we should check if he went to the hotel, then?”

            I nod and we head back to the street. The hotel is only a few streets away. It looks just like a big house with a flat ceiling. And a lot more windows. She leads me in to a room that looks nothing like a house. The floor is lined with a type of carpet no one I know could afford. There’s a desk to the right of the door, a table and some chairs to the left, and a beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

            “I’ve never actually been in a hotel before.”

            “Really?” she laughs. “Don’t travel a lot, huh?”

            I shake my head. “I’ve never even been out of Cawthorne in six years.”

            “And Cawthorne is too small to have a hotel? Well, of course it is. I’ve never heard of it, and I know a lot about cities and towns and things like that. But that’s okay. Just let me do the talking.”

            I nod and she walks over to the desk. The man behind it looks at her, then at me, then back at her with a look that doesn’t hide his suspicions.

            “May I help you, miss?”

            “Yeah. I’m looking for a man named Judas. He’s staying in London for a few days and we think he’s probably got a room here.”

            “Last name?”

            “Grange,” I tell him, walking up.

            He flips through a few different pages scattered across his table before saying, “No, sorry, there’s no Judas Grange staying here.”

            “Thanks, anyways,” Jane says.

            She strolls over to the sitting area, even though it’s obviously set up for the hotel guests, and flops down into a chair. The man behind the desk is watching her coldly, but I try to ignore the look and sit down next to her.

            “Any more ideas?” I sigh.

            “Well, this is the only hotel in the area, so I don’t know. I guess he could be staying with relatives or friends or something.”

            “Judas doesn’t have friends,” I tell her. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if he has relatives, either.

            We sit in silence for a couple of minutes when suddenly my stomach growls. I remember I hadn’t had anything on the carriage for lunch and it’s dinner time now. I’m used to skipping a meal here and there, but apparently sitting and doing nothing for most of the day makes me hungry.

            I let my pack fall of my shoulder and dig into it. “Have you had anything for dinner yet?”

            “Nope.”

            I toss her an apple, grab one for myself, and take out a bag of dried meat. Part of me wonders why I didn’t eat any of this on the way here. The other part reminds me that most of Judas’ food is spoiled. It looks good, though, and I’m really hungry.

            But before I can bite into anything, the man behind the desk speaks up again. “No eating in the hotel!”

            “Fine, fine, we’re going,” Jane calls to him.

            I follow her out the door and we lean against the wall as we eat. She eats her apple faster than I even thought possible and finishes off two pieces of meat before I’ve even taken ten bites.

            “So what else do you have in there?”

            “That’s it for food, I’m afraid. Just a change of clothes.”

            “What’s this?” she asks, reaching into my bag and pulling out a piece of paper I’ve never seen before.

            She opens it up and my eyes are barraged with a jumble of letters. A few combine to make short, understandable words, but most of them would take too long for me to figure out.

            “What does it say?” I ask hesitantly.

            She looks at me. “What, can’t you read it?”

            “I… my parents didn’t really feel the need for me to go school,” I lie. Even if she is helping me, there are some things I don’t feel comfortable telling someone I’ve only known for about an hour. Things like my parents being killed in a lycan attack, or that I was the only survivor from that attack, or that afterwards I spent a week with a vampyre, or that after that I killed a woman by tearing her heart from her chest. Actually, there’s a lot of things I don’t feel comfortable telling her.

            “It’s okay. My parents don’t really care what I do, either.”

            Her eyes fly over the note, taking it in with the speed of years of practice. “It’s directions to somewhere.”

            “So, I guess that means we’re off again?”

            She nods and rushes off. I stuff the food back in my bag, shoulder it, and follow after her. We head through the streets we just ran though to get here. They’re clearing now as the sun is stooping below the horizon. We make our way back to the place where Judas and I were dropped off, to the outskirts of the city, and hedge along the outside.

            Through the darkening sky, I can see what must be our destination. It looks just like the type of place Judas would decide to stay in while on business. It’s dark, but I can see a few lights through the cracked windows of the second floor. I’m fairly confident I can see rotting boards in both the porch and the walls of the house.

            “It’s very,” she hesitates and tries to find a suitable word. She decides on, “Homey.”

            “This is home sweet home for Judas,” I laugh awkwardly.

            “He sounds nice,” she responds with the same awkwardness.

            I hold the door open for him. “Just wait until you meet him. I’m sure you’ll love each other.” Actually, I’m sure of the exact opposite. Why am I introducing her to Judas, again?

            The first floor is plain, not that my one-room apartment is any better. Most of the room is taken up by a kitchen, with a table and a few chairs nestled in the corner to the right of the door. On the opposite wall is a staircase leading to the other floor. I can hear shouting coming from above us.

            Jane can hear it, too. “You’re sure we’ll love each other, huh?”

            “Well, I’m not sure if you’ll love each other as much as I hope you’ll be able to tolerate each other?”

            We head to the stairs just in time to see a stool fly at the wall and shatter to pieces. We exchange wary looks.

            “I’ll go first,” I offer.

            I walk up the stairs, right into what looks to be escalating into more than an argument. At the far side of the room is the person I assume to be Judas’ guest. He’s glaring in our direction with hard, brown eyes. His brown hair is falling messily over his rust-colored shirt. I’m assuming the jacket, also brown, that’s lying on the ground behind him is his as well.

            Nearer to us, Judas is actually cowering near the wall. I suppose most people would cower if they just had a stool thrown at them.

            The man’s glare moves from Judas to us.

            “How many of you are there?” he asks in disbelief.

            Judas straightens up and tries to recollect a few shreds of dignity. “Kai, I’d like you to meet Ludolf. Ludolf, this is Kai and…”

            “And Jane,” she announces proudly.

            Judas and I give her warning looks; Ludolf glares at her. He hasn’t stopped glaring since we got up here.

            “So, why are there more of you here?” Ludolf growls at Judas. “I agreed to meet with you, not them. One human is bad enough.”

            Jane latches anxiously onto my arm. “‘Human?’”

            “Technically,” Judas responds, “Only one of them is h—”

            “Jane, I think you should go,” I tell her, already beginning to push her towards the stairs. What had I been thinking? I knew what kind of people Judas had ‘business’ with; did I really think I could let Jane meet him?

            “Kai, what’s going on?”

            We run down the stairs. I stop at the bottom of them to make sure she doesn’t try to get back up. She stops a meter or so away, folding her arms and waiting for an answer.

            “It’s complicated.”

            “Why did he say ‘humans?’”

            “I—I don’t know!”

            “Then why do I have to leave?”

            “I don’t think it’s safe for you here.” I know it’s not safe for her here, but I can’t exactly tell her why. “I think he might be dangerous.”

            “Well, then, you should leave, too!”

            “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine! Just, please… leave.”

            She looks at me, and she must be able to tell I’m serious, because she sighs and lets her hands fall down to her sides.

            “Okay, Kai; if you really want me to leave, I’ll go.”

            I walk her to the door and sigh. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, Jane. I’m sorry. Thank you for all of your help today.”

            “Don’t mention it, Kai. I had fun.”

            I close the door behind her and wait a few seconds for her to get a good distance away before dashing upstairs again. Everything is just the way that I had left it, glares and all.

            “Well, isn’t that sweet,” Ludolf sneers, “The human boy saving his new girlfriend from the big, bad wolf.”

            “As I was saying before he interrupted me, Kai’s not exactly what you call ‘human.’”

            “I’m human,” I insist.

            Ludolf, who stopped glaring once he heard Judas’ comment, walks up to me. He studies me closely—too closely for my comfort.

            “Well, his eyes aren’t red, so a vampyre is out of the question. And he’s not a ghost.” He slaps me across the back to make sure I’m physical and to prove his point. He grins wickedly. “Do we have another lycan in our presence?”

            I eye him angrily. He apparently takes that as agreement.

            “Tomorrow is the full moon,” he tells me.

            “I don’t care.”

            He looks at me curiously before Judas tells him, “Kai has full control of his transformations and his actions while transformed.”

            “Is that so? Is that your doing, Priest?”

            “It is.”

            “Well, I’ll talk to you about that later, then.”

            I give Judas a sideways glance. From the little bit I’ve seen so far of Ludolf, I don’t think I would want him in control of his wolf. So far, it seems like not much would change, except for the frequency of his attacks.

            “So, are you going to let us wolves talk alone, then, Judas?” Ludolf asks, grinning in a way that warns me I shouldn’t want to be alone with him.

            Judas takes it as a warning that he should be obedient, which is just as likely an interpretation.

            “I’ll be staying the night down downstairs. When you wish to retire, there should be blankets and pillows in that cabinet.”

            For the first time, I notice the small chest on the opposite side of the room. It looks like its barely big enough to fit a single blanket, and, like most of the things in this house, it’s dangerously close to falling apart.

            I turns away to thank Judas, but he’s already fled. It’s just me and Ludolf.

            “So… how did you become a lycan?” I ask uneasily. How else am I supposed to start a conversation with someone that’s practically more wolf than human?

            He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been one as long as I can remember. I’m assuming I got it from my parents.”

            I give him a surprised look. “Lycanthropy is he… her…”

            “Hereditary?” he tells me. I’m not sure if he’s amused or annoyed at me. “I’m supposing it is, though if you really want to know you I suppose you could ask that priest of yours.”

            “He’s not my priest!” I tell him. “He’s not anyone’s priest. He’s just… a priest.”

            He glances at me curiously. “He is certainly strange.”

            “Yeah.”

            I shift in the strange silence that follows and look around the room. There’s not much to be seen that haven’t already.

            “I’m going down to talk to him,” Ludolf tells me and stands up. If he was just going to run off, why get me alone?

            I nod, even though it wasn’t a question. He disappears down the stairs and I make my way to the cabinet. I take out a holey blanket and hard pillow and place them as far away from Ludolf’s seat as possible. Soon I’m fast asleep.


yes, Jane likes to talk :P
« Last Edit: February 28, 2011, 08:06:54 PM by Vasha »
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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #57 on: March 04, 2011, 11:46:28 PM »
A little fast-paced.
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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #58 on: March 05, 2011, 09:42:59 AM »
Is there anything wrong with that? It was a fast paced day! :P
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Re: Story Collection
« Reply #59 on: March 05, 2011, 04:14:45 PM »
I never said there was.
"I like old houses. They make me feel sad."
"How is that a good thing?"
"Sad is happy for deep people."

-Doctor Who

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"Be yourself; everyone else is already taken." -Oscar Wilde

 


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