Saturday, March 30, 2013

TThis is one of my previous stories. It is actually the story I wrote that more or less gave me inspiration for one of the stories on which I halted production for a later time.



The Little Vampire

            Little Vincent was a peculiar kid. He was a bit of a loner, and liked to be by himself. He always looked sickly pale, but he never showed any signs of anything being the matter. He would also disappear at the strangest times for hours, only to be found again somewhere like his room, or out in the garden. When asked where he had gone he would usually stay silent, but even when he did answer he would simply say that he didn't know, or that he had flown away. Whenever he would answer with such a remark, he would get a spanking for "running off his smart mouth." Thus, he would usually just remain silent.

             One day little Vincent was alone in the forest, playing with a cool stick that he found lying on the ground, when all of a sudden, Billy, the bully of the town, came wobbling by with his many chins, and eating a piece of cake he had stolen from a small child. He saw how much fun Vincent was having with the stick, and he was immediately  filled with envy. "Hey you, Ugly" yelled Billy very menacingly, "gimme that stick, and anything else you got." Vincent was very mad. He was not going to let this giant slab of blubber order him around. He muttered something incomprehensible at Billy under his breath. "What was that, Ugly?" Billy asked, jabbing his pudgy finger at Vincent, "I couldn't hear you because I was too busy shielding my eyes from your ugly face!"  Billy grabbed at Vincent, but Vincent swatted his hand away with surprising force. Billy went in to punch Vincent, but Vincent was way ahead of him. He dodged the blow, and lunged toward Billy, at which point Vincent blacked out. He woke up in his room, with his clothes in tatters.

             The next day, someone found Billy's body in the woods. The autopsy was very strange, very strange indeed. The only marks found on the boy's body were two small punctures, and the boy's body had been completely drained of blood. The sheriff ruled that it was most likely a snake that had bitten him

            . The funeral was held a week later, and everyone in the small town was invited. Vincent didn't cry, or even feel bad that the child was dead. Billy was a jerk. All of the other kids of the village seemed to agree, for while the service was being held, they were off in the background, playing with a caterpillar that one of them had found. Vincent was not invited to see the caterpillar, of course, for he was different, and little boys and girls did not look kindly at different. Vincent thought nothing of it, for he had never been asked to play in the games. It was a way of life for him, to watch from the sidelines as others were joyous. After the funeral, Vincent thought about the events of the past few days. He did not come to much, except that Billy had gotten what was coming to him.

             A year went by, and there were no deaths in the village. Vincent had grown considerably, and he lost his two canines, awaiting his new adult ones. The next morning, he felt for the gaps in his mouth and found that the teeth were there. This was very exciting for him. In the process of running his tongue along his new set of pearly white chompers, he pricked his tongue. Vincent waited patiently for the taste of blood, but it never came.

             "Well now that is strange!" he thought.

             The cut was rather deep, and should have been squirting out gallons of blood. Having the attention span of the seven year old he was, however, he quickly dismissed the thought and headed off to his daily affairs.

            He wandered the woods, pretending to be a fearless adventurer, slaying evil monsters, rescuing damsels in distress, and most importantly, having loads of friends.

            Deeply ensconced in his imaginative process, he almost failed to notice the deer he had come across. He quickly ducked down, and was as quiet as he could be. He spied on the creature, studied it. It soon occurred to him that he desperately wanted to eat the thing. The realization shocked him for this was a most ungentlemanly thing to do. But nonetheless,  he couldn't avoid the fact that he had an overwhelming urge to pounce on the thing, and sink his teeth into its' hindquarters, and not let go, until every drop of blood had been drained.

             He contemplated whether he should commit this horrific deed or not. But the craving for blood and flesh swelled so considerably, that before he knew it, he was chasing after the thing. And almost as soon as he had pursued it, he was on top of it, gripping it with his pale, forceful claws. This new founded speed startled the young boy so much that he almost lost his grip and lost the deer. But he didn't lose his grip. At that moment the deer's fate was sealed.  The little vampire plunged his teeth into the deer's neck and drained every drop of blood and life from it. He drank and drank until finally the blood supply had run out and there was only a large slab of dry venison left.

             Vincent didn't want meat, he wanted blood. He went deep off into the forest, in the pursuit off this delicious red liquid. He could not find another dear so he came back home very late, disappointed and hungry.

             His orphan matron scolded him for being so late. He was sent to his room without dinner (which Vincent was actually rather pleased about, because at the end of the day, Vincent had come to the realization that all he really wanted was blood). He was given a heavy spanking, and had to sleep on the cold floor for the night. He could not get to sleep, and he didn't think it was from the lack of comfort. It was from all that had happened that day. He had discovered that he was nothing but a blood thirsty animal. Little Vincent tried to cry, but nothing came out, for now that he had his grown up fangs, he was a full- fledged vampire. Because of that, he had lost all fluids from his body. He was only a shell now.

            Vincent was not happy about this. He thought that this was to blame for all of his troubles. This was why the boys and girls didn't like him. This is why he got so many spankings from the orphan matron.

            The orphan matron.

             How dare she be such a witch to poor little Vincent? She thought he was nothing but a little brat. But Vincent knew he was so much more. Did he not kill both a cloud of a boy, and a deer with his bare hands, when he was but a boy? He had found his true power that day. He became very angry at the orphan matron.

            With one powerful kick, the door to his room flew off of its' hinges. The orphan matron noticed this and came running to the source of the ruckus. Her face contorted with rage, and she was about to release a torrent of nasty language, but Vincent was immediately on her. He plunged his daggers of teeth into her neck, and feasted on her blood.

             Once his belly was satisfied, he went into the rooms of all the other orphans, and bit them. He did not kill them however. He injected his plague into their bloodstream, in order to make them just like him. He did not do this to make friends, he did this to show them how he felt, when all of them ignored him, when he was different. Well now they would all be different. This would make them sad, which in turn would make Vincent very, very happy. It was time for little Vincent to be in power now. He was done being pushed around.

             He left the building and went out to the courtyard where he looked up at the sky. He yearned to be with the stars, to be immortal, and free. He willed his body to transform into a bat, for his soul to be free from his miserable human prison. It was time to move onto other villages. This one was finished, for when the children woke up, they would have as much of a thirst for blood as Vincent, and they would feast upon the nearest source of blood they could find which would be the neighbors. He flew around the countryside, feasting on a villager or two, and planting seeds in each of the towns.

             He was finally happy, or at least he thought he was. He thought that revenge on all those who were mean to him was what he wanted, but it was not. What he really wanted was to be loved, to have someone that he could call a friend. But the chances of that were gone. He killed any hope of finding the warmth of love as soon as he killed the orphans, and the matron and Billy. Now he was cursed to live an eternity with this burden of lovelessness, or be staked in his cold shell of a heart.

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