DESCRIPTION
Fate, a girl plucked from the streets is the chosen one, the slayer who must save the world from the vampiric Uprising, but what happens when her closes friend betrays her and she doesn't know who to trust..or to kill? [956 words]
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I'm a young American getting my degree at a British University. I love reading, writing, movies, and going out. I'm looking for other young writers like myself to read and review stories together. [June 2002]
The rain came down in torrents, grey, cold, and wet. She welcomed it upon her face, breathed the cool wind. Pausing a moment in a dark, forbidding back street, she let the rain seep into her skin, her hair tumbling down her back, washing the blood from her hands. Good. Less she had to worry about later. The town was dead quiet, the silence almost deafening to her ears. She welcomed the loss of sound. Exhaustion held her body in a tight grasp, and she was ready to turn home, the dawn heralded softly by gentle pink lights tingeing the blackness of the horizon.
Shaking the raindrops from her long black coat, she set off in the direction of the university, just a few blocks from where she stood. The rain fell harder now, soaking her long curtain of dark hair to her head, the cement glistening beneath her booted feet. Her footsteps were heavy, but she remained alert. Adrenaline ran through her blood like an elixir of savagery, making her almost begging, needing another fight, longing to feel the life of her prey wash over her hands, hot, sticky, liquid. But, as she reached the university, taking the back way through the large, green common, now slippery and wet with rain, her desires were not met again. She found her room safely, her hands still cleansed by the rain.
A large golden 6 was emblazoned on her door. The normally busy sophomores' dorm building was as silent as the streets. She let herself inside, removing her long leather coat, dripping with rain, and cast it on a nearby chair. Throwing her head back, she shook the water from her waist-length, nearly blue black, spiralling hair, made even darker from the weight of the rain. Her dorm room would have been completely black if it weren't for the blue glare of the television left on mute. The light reflected upon a guy reclining peacefully in the chair facing the television, making his face an eerie blue and his spectacles dizzying mirrors.
He was her age, young, perhaps a year younger. Tall, lean, lengthy, his legs stretched out before him as he cradled a large, worn book in his arms, the pages brittle and yellow, reading intently. She could see the fine profile of his face outlined in the blue of the television screen, straight nose, sensitive lips, high forehead, strong chin. His hair was blond in the light, but in reality she knew it would be the color of fresh wheat, cropped short at the back and sides, long in front, combed upward with wild streaks of blue as an accent. And his eyes were a deep, trusting brown, large and almost innocent looking. His God given look of innocence was probably why she felt the way she did about him, with nothing but a sister's love and concern.
"Shouldn't you be in bed right now?" she inquired, strolling next to the boy's chair, attempting to read over his shoulder.
He didn't answer for a moment. "How was it, then?" His eyes were fused to the book's pages.
She sighed. "Fine. Nothing special really. Same old leeches regretting that they left their coffins last night........." Her voice broke off. "Hey, I thought I told you to leave Guardian's books alone!"
The boy finally looked at her, his eyes beacons of blue light through his glasses. He snapped the book shut loudly and angrily, standing up. "Who made you my mother all of a sudden?"
They faced each other, tension slowly building. She sighed, coming closer to him. "I'm sorry, Bren. I know you miss him. I do, too. You know I do. But we can't just go through his possessions at will. We don't know what could happen. There might be some powerful stuff in there. You remember what Aurora said, don't you?" She tiredly put a hand on his shoulder. "We can't use any of his stuff until Aurora goes through all of it."
He didn't respond, only shook off her hand, removing his glasses. He glared at her, and then tossed the book at her. It sailed through the air a few moments, the weak pages rustling, until she caught it just in the nick of time. "Brendan!" she called after him, frustrated.
He was already walking over to the sleeping area. "You put it away then! I don't want it anymore!" She heard him growl.
She groaned. "Fine! I will! Just don't go fucking with it again, you hear me!"
The sound of a door slamming closed was her reply. He was probably going to sleep.
She sunk into the chair before the television with Guardian's book in her lap. Feeling exhaustion rolling over her in waves, she clicked the television off.
She slowly lapsed into wondering why Brendan was in such a foul mood. He knew that Guardian's possessions could potentially be dangerous. It wasn't like him to do something like that. He must be having a hard time adjusting, she reasoned. Guardian's death was sudden, and since they had no idea of the cause of death, was ever more upsetting. She was getting closer to accepting it. Death, after all was her trade. She dealt with death almost every day for the past six years. Brendan was different. He was only just realizing how dark the world could be, while she knew from day one how deep the blackness went.
"Fate!" Brendan was calling her from his bedroom.
"What?" she replied sharply.
"You've got lectures in 4 hours. Are you going to go?"
"Hell, no. You have some, too, you know. Are you going?"
"You're joking, right?"
His amused tone made her smile.
"That's what I thought you'd say!"
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"This is good work with some great description. Keep it up and it could easily bloom." -- Jack Brown, UK.
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