Category Archives: Short Story

RP pt.2 A walk amongst the Dead

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This is a Role Play I am currently working on for the Bloodletting game. I play both characters involved. They have a love/hate relationship pretty much. If you are interested in seeing just what the Bloodletting RPG is all about, check it out at Bloodletting.org.  If you decide you want to sign up and feel like getting one of my characters a little bank for it, use the following links:

(Addison) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=149254

(Genesis) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=151855

Keep in mind, Genesis is a Lycan, and Addison is a Slayer, though was a former vampire. She’s the weird one of the two.

Part Two:

Genesis:

Genesis winced when Addison yelled about the smell of the place. Great. Sound drew these things, and here the little idiot was, screaming and ranting. She wanted to smack her crewmate in the head. Well, she always wanted to do that, but this was a justifiable reason.

As the dead thing approached and Addison moved to her feet, pulling out the creepy black sword of hers, Genesis took a step away. She didn’t want to accidentally touch it. She knew what it did to people.

She then shot a look of complete annoyance to Addison for her comments.

“Someone, whoever brought and dumped us here, took my weapons. All of them. Even found my hidden ones.” She said, her eyes scanning for higher ground. “And no, I cannot shift into my Crinos form. Gods, do you ever think things through?” She snarled.

She grabbed Addison by the back of her shirt, slowly leading the dark haired woman back with her, her eyes still taking in the structure of the building to find a defensive position.

“I can’t shift. These are zombies. I can’t bite or scratch at them. They are infected, be it viral, bacterial or even fungal. Me biting into them is sealing my own death…well…at least to become one in their ranks. And with no weapons, come on, let’s face it, I am the weaker of the two of us here.” She growled the last bit, completely disgusted at having to rely on Addison in any way.

Her foot kicked something that rolled and glimmered faintly. Genesis inspected the item, wary of picking it up. She could use it, however. A long piece of pipe, about the length of a baseball bat. Upon further inspection, she found signs that someone had already used it in the precise manner that she had planned. As a weapon against these things. A good smash in the head to splatter their brains.

This discovery only led to more questions in her head. Was this some sort of ‘proving ground’? Were people dropped here to feed the zombies? Were they here for someone else’s entertainment? Like an old gladiator tournament with the reanimated, hungry corpses?

If that was the case, someone was watching somewhere…her hazel eyes scanned for cameras. She didn’t see any obvious ones. No little blinking record lights. No newer or out of place looking wiring.

The moans of the dead were getting closer, however. She had to turn her attention back to them. The numbers were gaining.

“Okay Addison. You at least have your sword. I have a pipe. From what I gather, we are not the first to be dumped here like this. Now this poses the question as to who wanted this, why, and …why us? I mean, were we random, or chosen?”

The first of the zombies neared her and she swung the steel pipe like a baseball bat with all her might. A sharp metallic clang knocked the head off the dead thing. It not only knocked the head off, it dented it, warping the brittle bone, weathered skin and greyish black brain and blood over the end of the pipe. Genesis had to shake it off before sizing up her next zombie.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Addison was having no problem. It was even slightly disturbing that the other woman was smiling and singing a song of some sort…

 

Addison:

Cold blows the wind to my true love,
And gently falls the rain.
I never had but one true love,
And in greenwood he lies slain.

Addison swung her sword with skilled precision. Each arch, each sweep of the blade sung in her hand. Quite literally. The black blade pulsed with a tune only Addison could hear, and with it, she sang along merrily. It was a morbid little tune, but Addison sang it beautifully amidst the splattering of zombie flesh and bone.

I’ll do as much for my true love
As any a young girl may.
I’ll sit and mourn all on his grave
For twelve months and a day.

She watched out for Genesis, who, for not having any of her favorite toys, all her wonderful little guns, was doing a smash up job, literally, with the old piece of pipe she had found. The questions Genesis had posed to her were interesting ones, indeed. Who wanted them here? Was this a planned event for the two crewmates? A test of skills? An execution? Addison snorted. It would take more than zombies to bring her down.

And when twelve months and a day had passed,
The ghost did rise and speak,
“Why do you sit all on my grave
And will not let me sleep?”

Addison raised her sword high, bringing it directly down the middle of a zombies head. The frighteningly sharp blade slicing in and back out again with ease, like a hot knife through butter. She took note that Genesis was looking for higher ground. Probably a good idea, since she only had the steel pipe.

‘Tis I, ’tis I, thine own true love
That sits all on your grave
I ask one kiss from your sweet lips
And that is all that I crave.

The zombies seemed to be coming in from one direction of the warehouse. How they were getting in, Addison didn’t know. Nor did she know how many. All she knew for certain, was that the bodies were starting to pile up, and it reeked to high hell in the place. And the noise. While she and wolf-girl were quiet, well, other than her singing, the zombies seemed to focus in on the chorus of their own. How many more would be joining this party?

My breast is cold as the clay;
My breath is earthly strong.
And if you kiss my cold, clay lips,
You’re days will not be long.

Suddenly a zombie was charging her. This one was fast. It didn’t lumber like the others. Fresh. A fresh made zombie. They were usually pretty spry. Addison swung her blade upward, decapitating the foul thing, and though its body crumpled on the spot, its head was still very much active. Its slimy teeth and dead eyes locking on to Addison, mouth chomping at her. She sunk the tip of her blade cleanly through one of its blue-grey eyes.

Go fetch me water from the desert sand
And blood from out the stone.
Go fetch me milk from a fair maid’s breast
That young man has never known

She upped her awareness. One fast zombie only meant more would come. This seemed to be a grab-bag mix of the reanimated. She hoped one of the faster ones didn’t make it past her. Genesis wouldn’t have too great of odds with just the steel pipe. A freshly made zombie had hard bones, tough skin. And were much more avid in the endeavors to eat the flesh of the living.

How oft on yonder grave, Sweetheart
Where we were wont to walk—
The fairest flower that I e’re saw
Has withered to a stalk.

She inched her way closer to wolf-girls position. For any animosity between them, it would look pretty poorly if she let the other woman get eaten. Fun to watch, perhaps. But poor form, indeed. She took her eyes off the coming zombies for just a moment, to help Genesis find higher ground. They needed a chance to formulate a plan of some sort. If she were alone, Addison would have just ‘seat of the pants’ed it.

When shall we meet again, sweetheart?
When shall we meet again?
When the oaken leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again.

Addison concluded her song when the blade did. She gave a bow to the oncoming zombies, all slower moving ones it seemed, and turned to Genesis. They had managed to put a good bit of distance between themselves and the dead things. Addison indicated with a nod of her head to Genesis.

“I think I’ve found you some high ground. If it will hold us…” She said, motioning to a suspended platform. She grabbed the other woman’s arm and made way for the platforms broken stairs. She looked to Genesis with a smarmy smile. “So, how does it feel to be nearly useless?”


SMUT! (Mature content…)

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So, this is actually a snippet of a novel I cranked out a while back and was re-reading and proofing it.

I decided….HEY…SHARE! TEASE! TORMENT! YAY!!! (beware, its not my finest, but hey, its smutty goodness.)

 

Tara stopped scrubbing and smoothed over the floor with a soft rag, bringing the floor to a shine. She moved around on her hands and knees before coming to a pair of feet. She followed the feet up the attached pair of legs and up to Jacobs face. “Hello.” She said, smiling. She moved to stand, putting her cleaning items away. “Is there something I can get for you?” She asked him.

 

“Come with me…” he said, taking her hand in his.  He led her to his room and closed the door behind them.

 

She followed without protest, wondering what he was up to. But then, she was glad for this opportunity. They hadn’t really spent any time alone in a few evenings.

 

Jacob cupped her face between his hands and pressed his lips to hers.  It was a deep, heated kiss; his tongue trailing her lips and her own slick muscle.

 

Tara was taken by surprise, but soon melted into the kiss. She returned it with her own passion, her arms moving to encircle his shoulders and neck. She let out a pleased hum through the kiss, letting him know it was certainly to her liking.

 

He pressed her against the door, his hands busy with hiking her dress up past her hips.  Jacob was hot and virile; he could feel his blood boil.  He hooked his fingers around her panties and pulled them down, lifting her body to help her remove them completely.

 

Tara was lost in the passion. It had seemingly come out of nowhere. Her mind raced, not knowing whether to stop him or not. She didn’t want to, but she was nervous. But the excitement overrode the nervousness. She clung to him, waiting for him to take his next actions, preparing herself for whatever he may do.

 

The man placed her upon the bed and trailed his kisses along her neck and throat, sucking and nipping at her flesh.  He unzipped his trousers and reached between her thighs, to finger her tight cunt, coaxing her sweet honey to seep from the hive.

 

Tara became bold herself, unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her hands inside to trail over his flesh, loving the feel of him. His attention to her neck and throat made her feel hot all over, and beneath her dress and slip she could feel her nipples harden, brushing against the fabric. He was moving so fast. But it felt so good. She could feel the wetness coming away on his fingers from between her thighs.

 

His lips soon found hers once again.  He felt his erection brush against her smooth inner thigh.  He was hard–incredibly so–and she was ready.  Jacob shifted above her as his hand guided his cock between her welcoming nether lips.  He broke the kiss to brush her delicate chin and jawline with his lips, as his free hand ran across her clothed breast.

 

“Tara,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair.  Jacob clenched his jaw as he entered her.  She was tight, almost too tight.  He gave a few hard thrusts, until he was in entirely.  It was a snug fit, but not unpleasant.  He kissed at her neck, feeling himself throb within her.

 

Tara hissed in pain. She still clung to him, not wanting him to stop. When he was all the way in, he stretched and pulled at her insides, but her body conformed to him, making room for his size, wrapping around him snuggly as the pain gave way bit by bit to the lovely pleasure to be had. Tara rolled her head to the side, letting out a breath she was holding, a small sound of pleasure then leaving her. She gave a roll of her hips and found it pleasing.

 

Jacob instinctively brought his hips to meet hers.  He was unable to hold back.  He reached up to run his fingers through her hair, his lips sealing hers with a kiss as he proceeded to drive himself into her soft, warm depths.  His thrusts were hard, sharp, but steady and consistent.  He was a hungry animal, wanting more of what the young woman had to offer.

 

Tara returned his kiss, soft sounds of pleasure escaping her into his mouth with every thrust he made. She met her hips to his, meeting him in movement, grinding her little bud against him, her body excited and pleased with the sensation of his thick cock moving in and out of her and the pressure and grinding against her clit. Her hands moved across the flesh of his back, down to his waist, feeling the power of his thrusts. He was filling her with pleasurable sensations, and her body was acting accordingly.

 

He grunted a bit and angled his hips to hit that little spot inside.  That’s when he broke the kiss… His gaze was locked on her and the expression of pure bliss she had.  Jacob rolled their bodies over, where she was on top and his hands squeezing her hips and thighs.

 

When he rolled them over, Tara began to rise and fall on him, using her knees to lift her up, and bring her crashing back down on him. She continued to grind herself against him, panting and make soft noises. She rested her hands on his chest, using him for balance and to help in her own thrusting. She leaned over him, kissing him, her lips trailing from his down to his jaw and neck, nibbling at his ear as her gentle breath played across his skin. She sat back up again, hands firmly planted against his chest, her lower lip bitten between her teeth as she pumped herself away on him, feeling that pleasurable tingle course through her.

 

Jacob gripped her ass, helping her move upon his dick.  He eventually moved and placed her below him once again, a thin sheen of sweat forming.

 

With every thrust he continued to make, it grew more intense, until finally her body stiffened, her inner muscles clamping around his cock, seizing up all around him before releasing into massaging waves of pleasure and bliss. Tara cried out softly, panting in her ecstasy. She continued to move under Jacob, her body wanting to ride out the pleasure and to coax him to his own release.

 

He held himself above her, to watch her orgasm race through her petite form.  She was stunning.  Jacob drove himself into her quivering depths, making his own noises of pleasure; until he finally came, his throbbing cock spilling his thick seed into her willing body.  He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him yet again as he panted softly against the bed sheets.

 

Tara rested against him, her head on his shoulder, panting softly. She felt hot and sweaty, but oh so fulfilled. When she got her breathing under control, she moved her lips to his neck, kissing him softly, rolling her tongue across his lightly sweaty flesh, tasting the salt of him. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, and heaved a pleased sigh against him.

 

Jacob rested his hands on top of her legs.  He, too, was fulfilled.  After a while, he reached up to stroke her head, running his fingers through her blonde locks.

 

Tara smiled. She loved it when he did that. She moved to kiss him, softly and sweetly. She looked over at his bedside clock. “I should be getting back into the kitchen…I still have a dinner to cook for everyone…it’ll be a little late…” She murmured. “You should take a shower, refresh yourself…”

 

“Mm… I should,” he said, smiling against her skin.  He kissed her again before rolling out from under her.  He stretched his arms above his head and looked to Tara.  “I’ll see you in a bit…”  He leaned over to kiss her brow before standing to venture into the washroom.

 


Tattered: A short story (RP Based)

This is a little short story involving Genesis, a character from The Road of Darkness. I write for her on my Roleplay site, and this particular piece just gave a little insight into what she was dealing with at a particular time.

Enjoy!

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She didn’t come home to roost in Sydney often, but this seemed like the best place to heal for a bit. She sat at the docks, watching the boats and ships come and go. Why? She wasn’t sure. Only days ago, this was the place she was handed divorce papers, had her meager personal belongings left on the pier and said goodbye to Silvas. Now he was off to who knows where.
She had taken her things to Headquarters, of course. And now, she simply had been roaming. She wasn’t that familiar with Sydney at all. She really enjoyed it, however. She liked the climate. The people were friendly.
She felt like she had no purpose at the moment, as she sat there in thought. The tattered edges of what made her a confident young woman pained her. Nothing like being left behind to make one feel threadbare. Her nerves were threadbare, her patience, her compassion, her drive. All threadbare. She wanted purpose again. She wanted to use those skills she was blessed with again.
Genesis pulled her SAT phone out, scrolling through the numbers. She didn’t know many of her crew-mates, but those she did, she felt she could talk to in confidence with. None seemed to be in Sydney at the moment, and she contemplated calling one of them, reaching out. But… if they weren’t in Sydney, they were probably tending to important matters. Genesis didn’t want to interrupt or intrude upon anyone.
She stared at Dexter’s number for a good bit though.
And then Addison’s.
She really didn’t want to turn to Addison. She was weird. Genesis didn’t feel like she could be trusted. She didn’t even like the woman being in Azhi. But such things weren’t her call. She had to trust in leadership in their decision on that one. Addison had a secret and Genesis knew it. She hadn’t shared it with anyone. She hoped Addison would do something stupid and reveal her little secret to everyone on her own.
The gulls pulled Genesis from her thoughts. The day was delightfully warm and sunny. It felt good against her skin. She had dressed appropriately for the day. Cargo shorts, tennis shoes, a tank top covered by a man’s business vest. It was a little big, but it hid her weapons. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail.
She got up from the little wooden bench overlooking the bay and went back to her exploring of this city. She talked to people here and there. She loved the Aussie accent. And they seemed to not mind her being an American. She had no discernable accent to pinpoint the area of the States she was from. She was just… her. Genesis.
She stopped at a few shops, just to browse more or less. A few grocery items were picked up.
Upon leaving one shop, the felt the temperature outside had dropped a little. The sun was beginning its descent. A good time to hunt.
Her unfamiliarity with this city was against her. But hunting in a strange place also had something to its flavor that was thrilling and intriguing. She would have to use her senses to the fullest.
Genesis allowed a small, yet sullen, smile to cross her lips. She turned and headed off in the direction of the not so touristy areas of the city, slinging her small bag over her shoulder. The weapons under her vest pressed against her sides lovingly. Look out, bad guys, little Genesis was in the hunt to spread some justice.


Let them burn: A short story (RP Based)

Here’s a little peak at Addison, something not included in the book, The Road of Darkness. Just a little bit of the things she does with her idle time.

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Usually she practiced her prayers and invocations upstairs in her attic. But tonight was different. Tonight was for special things. Special people. She needed a good old fashioned dirt floor, the wine cellar, under her bare feet and a small wooden work table, the wax of hundreds of previous candles hardened from top to bottom to look as if a multicolored frozen waterfall.

For tonight’s workings, Addison chose green, black and white candles. And a single gold in the center. They were already dripping as she started her workings. On the work table she had several fetishes set in a line. She couldn’t use her usual voodoo dolls, because she couldn’t collect everything she had needed. But the fetishes worked just as well.

She knelt upon the ground in front of the table and took pen in hand and started writing names, over and over and over, names, names, and more names, all on their own slips of paper. She would write someone’s name on a single slip of paper as many times as she could fit it on there. She then picked up the gold wax and placed a single drop on each and every slip of paper.

She said a small incantation and blessing to her gods and goddesses before reaching for fetish after fetish, stuffing a named slip of paper into its folds of fabric, tying it off with random old keys and bailing twine. There were over fifty of the little fetish dolls scattered over the work table by the time she was done.

Addison looked over her handiwork, giving a nod while blowing a long strand of hair from her face. She reached across the table and grabbed a jar of an unknown powder. She wiggled her toes in the cool dirt of the wine cellar and smiled, before moving a foot to smooth out the dirt once again. She got down on her knees, using her hand to smooth the dirt further, before reaching to pull her hair back, to keep it from obscuring her work.

She dipped her hand into the tan colored powder in the jar next to her, cupping her fingers slightly to pull out a small amount. From there, she began a design on the floor. At first, it didn’t seem like much, but after hours of laboring at it, it was indeed quite elaborate. A sigil for a particular god and goddess. A sigil whose lines crossed and intersected, because, as in this City, most everyone’s lives crossed and intersected at some point. But not hers, not anymore.

This was her revenge. This was her spot of fun. To many, she was a harmless little fool. To some, she was no one at all. What a mistake.

Voodoo can push and pull odds. Payment to the proper gods and goddesses can earn you favor, or, shift odds where you seek.

And there were many now, who Addison though needed a little push off the ladder, so to speak.

When bad things happened to bad people, she could say…’I had a hand in that.’ And when bad things happened to good people? She could say she had a hand in that as well. No one was making an effort anymore, why not fuck with their luck.

Oh, some would say they didn’t believe in what she did…her little voodoos and hoodoos. She didn’t care. What mattered is that their name was within a fetish, now connected to a grand sigil and she was offering gods and goddesses tokens of cigarettes, wine, bourbon, peppers and other little things.

No one would really know it was her. They’d just think ‘well fuck, how about that? Damn my luck…’.

This was almost more fun than throwing Holy Water, for the mere fact that the victims don’t see it coming. And she had so many in her intricate sigil, crissing and crossing.

She gave a bow of her head, striking a match on an old matchbook. She watched her little world burn for a moment before setting the sigil on fire, watching as the small flames moved, as if they had a thought of their own, taking their own direction, stalking its victims in order.

The small traveling flame finally died out after it ate away the powder. When the incense created by the powder hung in the air, Addison picked up a seagulls wing, using it to swoosh the plumes of smoke over the fetishes.

She knelt down on the floor once again. Daybreak would arrive soon. This had been a good night of ritual. Addison drank a shot of bourbon and said a prayer in thanks.

She left the cellar, off to bed for her. Addison petted and baby talked to her herd of cats while she made her way up the staircase, off to a void where she could watch the world burn.


Riverbank: A short story

Riverbank

photo by Simon Hawketts

 

She was carried along by the river. He never wanted to see her this way. He never wished for her to die. Things just happened and things just became unstoppable.
She loved this place though. This river. They had come here often, laying in the tall lush grasses of the riverbank, a blanket spread out beneath them. She always packed baskets of food and drink, whether it was afternoon or evening.
In the humid night air of summer, they watched the fireflies dance. The sound of the rippling waters lulling them into peacefulness.
All things change however.
Eventually, the river was a place they stopped visiting. Their relationship had become too complicated. Things were not so laid back and easy anymore.
Now, however, he could bring her there to the river they once loved together. She could be at peace here. And he would visit often to remember what once was.
With a sigh, he said a few words, of how he loved her, of how he mourned her, and how he would miss her. He was emotional. He was hurting. He was angry.
He found their favorite spot and strolled out to the river, going in knee deep with his beloved in his arms.
He opened the urn and lifted it, letting the contents spill out into the winds and down onto the currents of the waters rambling downstream. As the ashes caught up in the slight breeze, he silently raged at god for taking her away from him. How many more would have to die from cancer? Wither and waste away.
His love didn’t deserve this. She was a good woman.
Now all that was left was the river and memories.


Scents: A short story

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She sat peacefully on the park bench, happily minding her own business as she simply observed the goings on. This particular park was one of the largest in the city. Mothers and fathers however, were keeping their children close, not allowing the youngsters to enjoy the parks activities. They held their children’s hands and some held their children fully, despite the little ones squirming and wiggling for freedom.
The police had cordoned off a section of the park, their bright yellow ‘crime scene’ tape alerting the general populace to the grim discoveries of a mutilated couple. And despite the gruesomeness of it all, mothers, fathers, nannies and babysitters just had to see what all the commotion was about. Everybody loved a bloodbath.
Genesis absently brushed away a stray strand of dark hair from her face, her cheeks a rosy red from the heat and humidity in the air. She smiled and looked over toward where the police, detectives and coroners were earning their incomes. She already knew what the crime scene looked like…the way the massive amounts of vermillion blood stained the green grasses. The way the bodies were torn asunder, some pieces held together by the faintest of shreds of muscle or flesh. There were chunks of muscle meat missing, baffling the authorities.
She really couldn’t help herself. She had been so hungry. The wolf demanded feeding. Genesis usually tried to suppress it. She hated the wolf within. She very rarely shifted, except for the one time of the month, the full moon, that she had no choice in the matter. But last night something was different, something was off.
She was halted in her thoughts momentarily as a couple of police officers walked by, making their way to a little push cart offering hot coffee and cold lemonades. The gentlemen were pale, visibly shaken by what they had seen. “I tellya Stan, I never seen anything like that…I mean…the coroner said they was eaten on…meat and organs were missing…their livers…what the fuck kind of animal does that?” One officer asked of the other. His partner grimly shook his head. “I dunno Eddie. You know we’ve had problems with big wolves and bears attacking before…” He offered up. Eddie clicked his tongue. “This was a little too close…nothing has ever happened in a populated area before. This sort of shit happens in the woods. Animals don’t come this close to human places…” “There’s a first time for everything…” The conversation went on, but Genesis stopped paying attention.
Her thoughts meandered back to the early morning hours, when the hunger took hold so strongly, she shifted, hunted and sated the wolfs bloody hunger. She tried to think of what triggered it. All she could remember was a scent. A male scent. It had sent her own senses into a frenzy. Like a bitch in heat, she craved this male, let his scent drive her crazy with desire and hunger. And since she couldn’t seem to find him, she did the only thing she could think of to relieve her hunger. She hunted to feed.
She found the couple jogging together in the pre-dawn hour. They must have presumed there was safety in numbers. Genesis, in her partially transitioned form, saw them as nothing more than happy meals on legs. Both the male and female were excreting pheromones. They must have been lovers, or would be lovers. That made things extra tantalizing. Genesis had salivated, stalking them in her werewolf form. She sprang on them out of the brush, the female setting off with a shriek before a clawed hand to the throat silenced her. Her male companion tried to fight. Genesis, in her werewolf form, wasn’t too much bigger than her human form. She wasn’t particularly imposing. But her strength, speed and ferocity were inhuman. Superhuman. Supernatural. The human male didn’t have a chance. Genesis buried her maw in his shoulder, her clawed hands gripping both arms and she pulled in all directions at once. Sweet crimson blood filled her mouth, coating her fur. As she continued to pull pieces of the male off, eating the best of the muscle, then digging into his abdominal cavity for his liver, the female at his side watched in horror, unable to scream, too in shock to move quick enough to get away. She was losing blood quickly. Steam rose up in the slight chill of the night air. Genesis growled to the female before moving to her, tearing the woman apart and making a delicacy of her as well.
But while the wolfs belly was full, the hunger for the male she had scented out earlier was still there. Who was he? Where was he?
Genesis let her eyes roam over the park and its inhabitants before standing, the gravel of the path crunching lightly under her booted feet. She made her way over to the beverage vendor and ordered herself a refreshing lemonade before setting off down the sidewalk. She was sure this male would reveal himself in time. She didn’t know why he felt like toying with her though.


Bound to Her: A short story (RP Based)

So this is an RP story I wrote awhile back, I think around Christmas time last year. I dont think I ever posted it to the RP forum, but digging through my stuff today I found it and dusted it off. Its another look at the relationship between my character Nemesis and her faithful butler Creedy. It also alludes to how human Nemesis is, for being a vampire. She makes mistakes, she is flawed and she is socially awkward.

So, enjoy getting to know this character!

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Creedy looked at his employer with pity, heaving a heavy sigh for her.
“Pathetic.” He said out loud, dropping a dagger close to Nemesis’ head as she lay in the middle of the banquet halls long dining table.
“Oh, an inch more and that would have taken my ear off, Creedy. Go. Away.” She said, not even mustering enough emotion in her voice to seem threatening. She reached up and plucked the dagger out of the fine finishing of the table and simply tossed it to the floor. “You’re ruining my furniture, stop it, or I’ll dock your pay.” She then rumbled to him.
“Tsk…Nemesis, how long has it been since you’ve been out? Halloween? You need to get out…things can’t be that bad, can they?” The dedicated butler asked of his mistress.
Nemesis simply let out a sigh. “Gee, I dunno Conrad…I turned away from everyone in the city, destroyed friendships, broke ties, left total communities and had a one night stand that left a nice gouge mark in me that makes me want to claw my own eyes out. Don’t you kinda think I’ve done enough damage?” She asked her man servant.
“Caroline…” Creedy breathed out, since she seemed to want to take it to the first and real name basis “…nothing is irreparable. Perhaps a conversation with oph…”
“DONT…do not even go there. If that name is spoken in this house again someone loses a tongue.” Nemesis said plainly. The irritability did have her moving to sit up however, which Creedy found to be a good thing…maybe. He watched as she moved to dangle her legs off the side of the table, swaying her small feet back and forth.
“I was going to prepare the manor for Christmas…would you like to help? I know you enjoy the holiday…” Creedy then offered tenderly, as if a father speaking to his daughter.
But Nemesis was having none of it. “Don’t bother yourself…what’s the point Conrad? It’s just you and me. We don’t need to drag out all this stupid holiday cheer crap just for the two of us. Why don’t you just go away for the holiday…take however much money you need and go on a vacation. That will be my gift to you…a vacation…” She said softly, toying with a strand of her long hair.
The man looked at her and shook his head slowly, his features turning to anger. He reached down to where she had dropped the dagger, retrieving it, only to sink it deep into her flesh in the junction between her neck and shoulder.
Nemesis raised her head, blinking as she turned her sight to Creedy and left out a string of very un-lady-like curses.
“Language like that is so uncouth madam.” Creedy said, watching her pull the blade from her neck.
“Fuck you.” She retaliated. “Why would you do that…want me to return the gesture? Are you feeling suicidal today? You know, I’ve kept you alive and by my side as my butler for how long now? Do not think that you are irreplaceable.” She scowled.
“Tell me about the one night stand. This is the first I’ve heard you mention of it…” Creedy said, looking very pointedly at her. He inwardly sighed at the amount of blood he would have to clean up once Nemesis healed, but drastic times called for drastic measures and all.
Nemesis looked to him rather blandly. “Not much to tell…you know…meet guy, cozy up, make with the sexiness, then sneak away while he sleeps…yeah…not too much more than that.” She said, hopping down from the table.
“You’re definitely not yourself ma’am. I want to help you.” Creedy said, letting his voice and manner carry the sincerity.
But Nemesis shook it off. “I’m fine. Don’t need anything or anyone past these walls.”
“That’s not true and you know it. You’re wallowing.”
“I am not wallowing.”
“You are. Why don’t you go out and kick a puppy…that always makes you smile…go eat a little goth child, that makes you happy…”
“Creedy…clean up this mess. I’m going to my room.”
Nemesis began walking off, but on the subject of her room, Creedy spoke up once again. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’ve done in there…I’ve hired a contractor that will be here tomorrow to sort out that mess…you’ll have to sleep in one of the other rooms.”
Nemesis turned. “Yes, yes, fine…I’ll be in my attic, I suppose.” She said in a deflated tone. Yes, she had destroyed her room in a fit of rage one evening, wanting to strip away all there was of the past. She tore furnishings apart, punched holes in walls, destroyed the little ‘hidden room’ in the paneling. Then she started dragging her meals up there…killing them violently and staining the room in blood. Even Nemesis would admit there was a bit of a foul smell emanating from the room now.
As she reached the door to the banquet room, she turned to look at Creedy somewhat timidly. “Is the library put back in order?” She asked rather meekly for a vampiress of her power. Creedy looked at the amount of blood pooled from stabbing her then slowly looked to his mistress. “Yes, Nemesis. The room is back in order, minus the pictures. I figured I would replace those you tore down with some of your old portraits that have been in storage.”
Nemesis gave a nod. “Yes, that will do.” She said softly.
Creedy sighed and began toiling away, cleaning up yet another of Nemesis’ messes. This business of her having a ‘one night stand’ bothered him greatly. But she was her own woman, and he wasn’t her father.
Nemesis trekked to the safety of her attic, curling a lip in disgust at the feel of the dried blood on her neck and in her hair from Creedy’s little dagger hit. Like her faithful butler, her thoughts turned to her actions of weeks ago. She was beginning to feel foolish. It was almost Christmas and she hadn’t said a word to him. She felt like a whore, though she was far from it. There were some in this forsaken city so much worse than herself. Both female and male. Some didn’t know their head from a hole in the ground.
She stripped down and climbed into the shower in her attic room, cleansing herself thoroughly before stepping out to dry and put on fresh clothing. With nothing more to do, and restraining from destroying any more of her own property, she sat down on the cot set up in the corner of the room. Her attic was filled with a variety of herbs, flowers, bones and skins. Voodoo dolls and charms hung everywhere with no rhyme or reason.
She could try to capture a small bit of peace here, among her collection of oddities, both found and created.
With a sign, she picked up a small skull. It was a chipmunk or squirrel or something. It was cute.
She lay down on the cot with the critter skull and allowed her fingertips to smooth over the bone. It was soothing and lulling. Her eyes drifted shut, but she did not sleep.
She wallowed.


After Time: A short story

Hello my darlings! Tonight we will have only one story. It was based on a 3 word prompt, and it sort of took on a life of its own. I am seriously considering continuing on with it. For now, I will share what I’ve written thus far. Enjoy!

The 3 words given to work into the story:

1. hospital
2. death
3. Mice

They had made it to the hospital just in time. The sun was just dipping down beneath the horizon.
This was the third hospital, and hopefully this one wasn’t another bust. They prayed. They needed medical supplies, food, and water…anything that could be scavenged. They had to do it quietly, however.
You could only be outside during the daylight hours, so those precious hours were spent traveling from place to place, scavenging, looking for survivors, or running from the more malicious survivors who’d kill you for what you had.
The world had gone to hell.
Oh, no. No nuclear holocaust. No great war. Hell, it wasn’t even zombies or vampires.
No one quite knew what this was.
This…epidemic…when it started…seemed to affect only certain people. Something in their genetic make-up, or blood. Or maybe the chemical balance in their brains. No one was ever able to figure it out. What was known, was that it was an epidemic that was created. For what purpose was a mystery. Whoever created it in their little petri dish died long ago, probably patient one.
Now the afflicted roamed the night. They brought death and despair. And as said, they were not zombie or vampires. Perhaps an odd mix of both. Yes, they would bite you. Eat you. Devour you. But they were not dead. They were alive. It’s just like a switch got turned off in their brains and they became…inhuman.
And this affliction was transmittable. Only through saliva though, not scratches.
Oh, at first it wasn’t, and they thought they could beat this thing and regain control of the world.
It mutated. Somewhere in its travels over the oceans and back it mutated.
Animals were not affected by this…thing. Well, except birds. And that seemed to bring on a devastating loss all on its own. Everywhere the damned birds shit, things died. The vegetation was dying. No vegetation meant no bigger herbivores to hunt and sustain human life.
The dead or dying wasn’t touched by anything either. Worms and flies. Rats and mice. Their little noses told them ‘no, you don’t want to eat this’.
Rumors circulated around that people were starting to cannibalize other people up in the northern country. These…things…didn’t seem to like the cold much, so a lot of people moved north. The cold weather may have protected them from these things, but not from their fellow man and starvation.
Medical supplies were the currency of the realm. If you could get enough good stuff, you could bargain your way into a small group. It was always best to be in a group.
It may sound cruel, but it was always safest to get into a group with older people and young children. Those whose bodies had been weakened from malnutrition and the harshness of the times.
The strong prey on the weak. These…things…didn’t like to have to work overly hard for their meal.
The world was really cruel now. The weak were sacrificed.
Some people tried to get into the CDC’s and whatnot. It was heard that some had actually made it. That was in the beginning though.
They didn’t know if anyone was still working on figuring things out in the CDC’s and World Health Organizations. They didn’t know if any of them were still alive.
The power grids were out pretty much everywhere. No phones, no cellphones, no TV. Some people did have CB radios and walkie talkies, but they were good for any distance.
They didn’t have either. They were a small group. It was just the five of them. They were going from hospital to hospital, clinic to clinic, searching for anything they could get. They did have motorcycles, one of them having a small box like trailer to it to carry things. They were hoping to find a small community with fences or some sort of alarm and warning system.
They’d been in a group before. They had been attacked. After that, they found another group to live with, but that group didn’t have good judgement. Others came, joined, and turned on them. Stealing all the food and supplies, doing horrible things to their fellow survivors.
They thought if after this supply run, maybe they could find their own place, just the five of them. It was risking, being such a small group, but it had its advantages, too.
With some luck, they found plenty in this particular hospital. Apparently no one else had raided it because it was burned out on one side. People probably thought there was nothing salvageable.
But they were in luck. In the cafeteria there were loads of canned goods and dried pastas. In the medical wards there were all the supplies one could hope for. Medications, pain killers, bandages…just…everything.
They whispered together about maybe trying to fortify this place. Not leave. Make it a home for the five of them. They knew one another well. They trusted one another. It could work.
They went back to the cafeteria and fortified it. They’d spend a few days here. Talk things over, come to a decision.
They couldn’t hear the moans and scuffling of feet in the parking garage. And none thought to look there.


Cherished: A short story

Sorry my lovelies, only one story tonight. Its a happy-ish one though! I get points for that?

Bacon always reminded her of breakfast at her grandmothers. She spent a lot of time with the woman.

Her parents were quite well off, they excelled in investing their money wisely, and often took trips. They never took Marie with them. She was an only child, and she felt, due to the fact that they always left her behind, that she was more of a hindrance to them.

She loved all the time she spent with her grandmother though. The elderly woman taught her so many things. Cooking, sewing, painting little ceramic figurines. They had a lot of fun together.

Marie’s grandmother told her stories of the ‘olden days’. Stories of her grandfather, and the loved they shared. The man had died before Marie could know him. She was just an infant when a car accident took his life. But her grandmother and he obviously shared a loving relationship. Her grandmother never pursued another relationship with anyone after his passing.

Grandmother had tried her best to instill good values into Marie, taking up where her seemingly neglectful parents had left off. Marie’s grandmother was her mother’s mother. Sometimes, Marie would hear her grandmother scolding her mother on the phone for the way they seemed to…not mistreat…but neglect Marie. They were not openly affectionate with the girl. Marie still loved them, however. And they did always bring her presents after each vacation they took without her. At least they thought of her a little.

When Marie was seventeen, her grandmother passed away. It shattered Marie’s world. Everything the woman had owned was left to Marie, the sole beneficiary of all her worldly possessions. Marie treasured each and every single thing, like she had treasured the woman herself.

A year later, on another of her parent’s vacations, their plane went down. No survivors.

Maries felt horrible. Not horrible in the fact that her parents where dead, but in the fact that she didn’t feel horrible that they were dead. The loss of her grandmother affected her so deeply, yet the death of her own parents left little feeling inside her.

Of course, she inherited a great deal of money. She paid her college tuition straight out.

When her schooling was done, her degree in hand, she obtained a job at a museum. She loved her life. She loved her job. She was a very happy young woman. An even in this times bad economic conditions, she had plenty of money stashed away from her inheritances.

Every Sunday morning, Marie celebrated life. Not by means of church, as she did not believe in a god, but celebrating the life that was given to her. It was hurtful at times, but it was happy, too. Her grandmother had accomplished what her parents should have done.

This Sunday, as every Sunday, Marie sat down at the little table in her quaint little apartment, a large plate of eggs, toast, grits…and a lot of bacon…sitting before her with her coffee.
She talked to her grandmother as she ate her bacon, letting the memories of her youth surround her like a fog, and in that time, she could feel her grandmother’s arms around her.


Hunger: A short story

This was a first sentence starter. I’m not too thrilled with it. It seems to meander and go no where, and lacks any real imagination in my opinion. Perhaps someday I will revisit it and give it a revision, or total re-write.

He knew he was in trouble the moment he walked in the door. His wife stood there, arms crossed. She wanted to know where he had been. He wouldn’t lie to her. She would know. She knew him all too well.
He opened mouth to speak. She immediately stepped forward, slapping him hard across the face before he could even get any words out.
That was her mistake. She should have just went with the flow. He’d never harmed her. Even when she found out his secret, he’d never harmed her, always keeping her away from it. Yes, they moved around a lot, and she hated it, but he kept her hands cleaned.
Things escalated quickly. She should have just let well enough alone. Why couldn’t she just do that? She had indulged him in his activities for so long now. Yes, they angered her, but she left him to it. She should have just kept silent, kept her hands to herself, and let it go, cooling down for a few days. Erupting like that after the night he’d had was a monumental mistake.
After she had struck him, he stopped being himself. He let the ‘other’ surface.
When he came to from his blackout again, there he was, disposing of another body. At first he hadn’t realized it was his own wife, but her wedding band had fallen off. He wanted to cry for her. He couldn’t. She had brought this on herself. She knew he held a monster inside that woke from time to time, and it had a need. He had fed that need. And now, so had she.


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