Some of my writing..... Warning: the Below content contains mature content....
-And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!-
Excerpt from The Raven by: Edgar Allen Poe
A cold brisk wind blew through the dying grass in the late autumn night. Within the small enclosure of the park, located on the end of the street in the small suburban town of Wallace, Georgia, no one was to be seen, except of course for a mid sized girl, clad in all black, a tank top, UFO pants, and a trench coat wrapped around the entire circumference of her frail, dying corpse.
Blood dripped from her left arm in small rivulets, her arm being the only exposed part of her body. Her eye shadow mixed with her salted tears as they fell in rhythm to the blood. Across her waist lay a small blade, the tool she used for her doing. The feet wrapped in thick black boots, skirted the cold ground as she slowly drifted upon the swing she sat on
Memories soon began forming. The church in which just an hour ago she sat, listening to tales of all those healed by God. She remembered all the laughing faces of the other kids, all clothed in everything but the color black. They seemed to enjoy themselves. Instead of misfortune, they were given good fortune or at least well able than her to deal with it. God gave her nothing but pain, while he handed them perfection. At the moment she felt nothing more than a mere spirit walking upon the Earth, doomed to be invisible to others, and doomed to watch the spectacle that took place all around her. Ever since she was born she had held a secret, a secret she bound tightly in her heart. The secret of who she was and still is, and the monster she is, the epitome to god she was. She was a creature who lived off blood, the creature of campfire stories. She was not a phantom or a werewolf. There is only one creature that lives in eternal darkness and in order to survive must live off the blood of living things. She was a vampire.
The town clocked tolled midnight. Samara, the name of the young vampire, began breathing hoarsely. Her eyes became blood red, her teeth once dull, began to sharpen and grow right out of her mouth. Samara felt her mind began to lose consciousness all around her. Her mind focused on only one thing, the thing she craved most, blood. She waited for the arrival of her dark lord, who would take her out of misery and help her to journey to a life of paradise, where she could stay a vampire and be with him forever. All pain and suffering would be nevermore.
“Samara, my young vampire princess I am here!” a dark voice spoke fro behind her. She could hear the thick black boots of his slamming down on the ground. Her heart soared, as she waited for her lord to approach, for the day has finally come.
“My princess! Have you brought the corpses of all ten people you have killed, the people whom you hate the most,” he said, coming behind her and wrapping his pale muscular arms around her waist. To Samara, he looked a bit feminine, with his purple eye shadow, adorned around his red eyes, and his black hair extending down his waist, perfectly combed. His attire was a complete hue of black, his shirt and pants. Around his neck, was the object that attracted Samara the most to her dark lord, Rucifel, the silver crucifix. Samara grabbed onto it and felt a surge of love coming from the symbol, what it stood for, was the greatest act of self sacrifice ever known to the world. The act that allowed us eternity.
“Once I exhume these corpses and perform the necessary acts of magic, you will be a full vampire, Samara,” he spoke, his black lips smacking with menace. Samara felt herself drawn to the beautiful figure, his pale skin giving off a bit of limelight within the darkness of the surrounding area. Samara took his hand and mutely pointed to a heap of ten corpses, all still filled with blood, all piled up next to the tall ancient oak tree, next to the swing set.
“My princess, you are wonderful,” he crouched down, and touched his black lips to her cheeks and gave her a small kiss. Then he dashed off, so fast, all you saw was a swirl of dust, over to where his dinner laid waiting for him.
“Bon appétit!” he yelled as he dug his fangs into the first one. Samara watched with no emotion, as Rucifel sucked the blood of the first five bodies, bodies of all the people who have hurt her. The people who she wanted to see dead. The thing she thought would bring her total happiness. Yet she felt empty, soulless, was life as a full vampire really better than eternal life upon a realm where there existed no suffering. She pondered to herself, and a small whisper spoke through to her, breaking through the barrier Rucifel held around her.
“You really want a life where you would have to kill to live, a life spent in eternity in a realm of suffering. They promise paradise, yet that paradise is flawed and empty.” The thought spoke forcibly within her mind
“SHUT UP!” she screamed, holding her head in pain, her heart thundered. She felt confused, what to choose vampire, or belief in someone to whom she did not even know existed.
“Princess stop your moaning you are about to receive paradise, come with me to the pentagram I have drawn out upon the ground. There lies the blood of all those who died. All I need to do is to chant the satanic oaths of the old, and you will be made anew, and bound to life eternally.” He said, Samara listened and followed him through the thicket of bushes to a clearing of dead grass, an area of mostly dirt. One side of her desired to become the vampire she only became at the night of the full moon, yet another spoke to her promising healing and a new life. She could hear that voice speaking melodically trying to keep her from making the wrong decision.
“What will become of my soul?” she said quietly, as she was led to the pentagram drawn out by Rucifel in the dirt. Rucifel pushed her down to the ground, and forcibly took her hands back, and tied them together. Then he took four long metal pikes and hammered them into her hands and legs. Samara screamed as the pikes went through her hands into the ground. Her blood flowed profusely from the wounds. Her screams reverberated throughout the clearing. So this was to be the torture she had to endure, in order to receive eternal life as a vampire upon this Earth, when she could just ask the ambivalent voice that had been promising something else, eternal life through faith.
“Your soul… You believe in such trifles. This is a way to sacrifice someone, an old tradition of making them resemble the Messiah, our way of mocking that ridiculous story,” Rucifel jeered, smiling envyingly. “Soon enough the forces of darkness will be led into your body and you will be made anew.”
“I don’t want this! STOP!” Samara screamed, struggling and attempting to pull herself out of the bind. Yet the pikes nailed through both her legs and feet forced her down.
“HUMAN SCUM! SILENCE! Let me begin thy chant,” he yelled. “No Cros Ginue Retasdl jefreak,” he spoke in some type of gibberish which Samara could not understand a word of. She closed her eyes and for the first time gave herself up to the voice within. Never had she felt so sorry for what she had done, for all the things she did to receive this, the destruction of such a unique soul, only to be given to the darkness, a soul which has been so uniquely designed by the creator.
“If you are there hear me. I’m sorry for all I did in order to receive this. I see through the lies. Please I believe in what you promise, SAVE ME!!!” she cried, tears flowed from her eyes, along with her purple eye shadow. Never had she felt so sure of something, she knew for once what was true and what was but a deception.
“WHAT?” Rucifel screamed as the pentagram lit on fire, Samara screamed, yet it ceased as the fire gathered around Rucifel who screamed as his body lit up into flames. Samara tried to watch yet a great binding light blinded her, as she felt a white clothed figure, with locks of light blonde hair and a perfectly composed face, embrace her.
“You will be made anew, my daughter, I know what you have been through. Tomorrow you will be a new person.” The figure spoke softly to her as she rubbed her eyes dry on his white linen.
“But what is to become of the evil I have committed,” Samara whispered to the figure.
“That my dear is nevermore!” the voice spoke back, and he disappeared leaving her on the ground, made anew, free of all darkness which had plague previously, for it was nevermore!
Chatting with my Editor Part 3 - For those just tuning in - I've been posting a chat with my editor of nine years! To read part 1, click here: http://officialmariavsnyder.blogspot.com/201...
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