Creative Writing Entry 1
This was my very first assignment from my creative writing class. I'm pretty proud of it! Please, tell me what you think of it!
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Prompt: Write a daydream in which you are the heroine who saves the day.
Whispers filled the night. From the shadows and dark, scary places, voices of the dead murmured softly, like patrons at a library. Outside, the pale eyelash of the moon offered its meager light to the earth that shivered beneath the breath of darkness that I brought with me.
In the long shadow I cast, surely too long to be mistaken for a mortal, two other girls walked. With bright, eager eyes, the looked upon the world of darkness that I had so recently introduced them to. Both smiled up at me and I smiled down at them as a mother would smile at a favored child.
We walked over uneven cobblestones and through tendrils of mist that coiled around our feet like a loving cat and I taught them how to look for prey.
“It’s in their smell,” I whispered softly and lifted my nose to the misty night, inhaling the scents of the small town and tasting the air with the tip of my tongue; it was a cool night and the air was bracing going into my warm mouth and shilling my lungs but there was something refreshing about it and I drew strength from that, as well as from the cold light of the slight moon.
The two girls looked up at me eagerly, a pair of lightning blue eyes and a pair of grass green, both laughably innocent when I considered what I was preparing to show them.
“What do you smell?” the blue-eyed girl whispered.
“I smell…” I sniffed at the air again, a blood hound on the scent of a wily vixen, “I smell a loving family… A father, mother, sister, brother… and a new baby.”
My mouth watered at the thought of the child… It would be a joy to show my two new apprentices the sweetness of young blood.
“Are they our prey?” the green eyed child breathed, eager as I had been on my first hunt. I could imagine a puppy, wagging her tail so hard, her entire backside wiggled. With that vision in mind a laugh rolled through my throat, soft, purring and dangerous.
“Yes, puppy,” I told her, “they will be our prey.”
I led them to a small cottage and stood back, studying the door, the curtained windows and the thatched roof… There was nothing there to deter me; so many had dismissed my kind as outlandish that few took the precautions anymore. There was no line of rice or salt outside the door, there were no silver bells hanging from the windows and no moving water anywhere near the house.
“Pathetic,” I muttered to myself. The two girls looked at me curiously but I simply smiled at them and ran one long, talon-tipped finger over the lock and heard the satisfying snick as the bolt drew back.
Silently, I pushed the door open, holding it for my two little shadows and then closing it just as silently behind me. If it had just been me, I would not have even bother with the door, but simply turned myself into ground mist or a spider to slid through the cracks. But neither of the little ones had yet mastered any sort of transformation so it had to be the door, as common as it was.
Silent as shadows, we slipped through the house, gliding up stairs as if we weighed no more than silk. At the top of the stairs I held up one, long-fingered hand and the two stopped, watching me with huge eyes.
I waited for a moment, straining hypersensitive ears to listen to the soft, faint breathing of the family. When all five had breathed slow, deep and even I allowed myself a moment of relaxation.
So close, I could smell all of them to an extreme that was almost uncomfortable; their skin alone was drenched in different perfumes, soaps, and colognes that did not mask their own sweat. Not from me anyway. They all slept on wood beds, a spicy, perfumed sort of wood that tickled my nose and added to the confusion, feather quilts, leather boots and soft, doe skin slippers, fur and skin all crowded my sense of smell.
“Be aware, children,” I whispered, “these people have a hundred different scents on them each… Do not breathe to deep.”
I could hear them nod and smiled.
I slipped down the hall and the two girls tip-toed after me. The green eyed girl was holding her breath and the blue eyed girl was breathing shallowly. We stood in front of a closed door that led into one of the bedrooms of the children.
I stroked the wood softly, inhaling deeply and listening to the soft movements of the sleeping child within.
“The sister,” I whispered, “Six years old and as docile as a lamb.”
I smiled a twisted smile and looked at the green-eyed child that stood next to me. She was staring hard at the door but looked up when she felt my eyes on her skin.
“This one,” I breathed, “is for you.”
She grinned and I pushed opened the door. Moonlight fell across the floor and onto the bed where a tell-tale mound indicated the little girl was indeed there.
The green-eyed girl whispered forward with steps as light as a hunting wolf, her eyes shining with feral hunger. I watched her as she held one small hand over the child’s mouth as a precaution and then bow low over the exposed neck and then slip inch-long fangs as pale as moonlight into the child’s neck.
I watched as the little child jerk slight, heard her draw a breath to scream and smelled her choking fear but then the venom that the green-eyed girl had inherited from me began to take effect and the little girl-child slumped back down in her pillow.
Transferred through saliva, our venom was deadly because it brought on a sweet sort of numb that our victims could not afford. A single kiss from any of our kind would leave the strongest of warriors smiling vacantly… he would sigh softly when fangs slipped through the delicate flesh above his jugular and he would not complain once while all of his blood was tasted, swallowed, devoured.
I know this because I had done it… a kiss and they were mine.
When the child’s breath had stopped and when she lay entirely too still, my little green-eyed daughter came back, her lips a bright crimson and her eyes glowing like little green suns.
“Better?” I whispered.
She looked up at me with the sweet sleepiness of a well fed child and nodded.
I smiled down at her and looked over at the blue-eyed girl that watched quietly, when she saw that I was looking at her, she smiled and walked across the hall to the other door.
I followed her and smirked; the smell of adolescent boy was unmistakable, I nodded to her and she opened the door, padding quietly across the floor and kneeling next to the boys bed.
There was no fear in her, no wild excitement either… simply the need to eat as anyone would have. She bent over the boy’s neck, slid her hand over his mouth and plunged her own fangs into soft, warm flesh.
The boy jerked once in surprise and then fell still, sighing softly as if he had just lain down after a very long day on his feet.
I inhaled deeply, the smell of blood made my mouth water but in all packs, the pups eat first and only when they are well fed and satisfied is the mother allowed to eat.
So I waited, still and quiet as the last drop of the boy’s blood slipped, still hot, down the blue-eyed girl’s throat. She rose and hurried quietly back over to me, grinning happily. I chuckled and ran my hand over her soft, dark hair… Now it was my turn and I was ravenous.
With the two girls in tow, I padded down the hall on the balls of my feet to the room at the end of the house. Through the door I could hear the husband’s heavy snores and wife’s soft breathing, still sound asleep while their children where being murdered a few steps away.
I pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness, following my ears to the husband’s side of the bed. I stood over him for a moment, admiring his shapely jaw, the proud curve of his nose and then I fed heartily.
His blood flooded over my lips, filling my mouth with sweet, salty life. I swallowed, drinking as eagerly as any the first time I had ever fed. I swallowed the red and felt it warm my throat, pooling in my stomach thickly like wine and felt the energy the blood contained swell within me.
The man had not even woken.
I took a small measure of pride knowing that I was skilled enough to not wake my victims, even when I fed off them. I glanced over and sneered when I saw that the woman was still sleeping deeply.
Unlike my two apprentices, who were watching with white eyed appreciation, I was still hungry, even after such a meal as a grown man. With the same ease with which I had killed the husband, the wife’s life was ended with a few pulses of crimson.
Only then did the baby start to cry out softly. I turned on the crib, my appetite, a moment ago satiated, roared back to the surface; I had forgotten about the baby.
“Now,” I said softly to the two girls behind me, “You will know ambrosia.”
I walked to the crib, not bothering to move with shadowy stealth but still making very little noise. The two girls followed me, standing above the babe’s head and looking down at him curiously. Behind them a shadow sailed over the moon and darkened the room.
“Hello, my little one,” I cooed to the little boy, who stared up at me with eyes wide with terror. One thing can be said about babies; they always know when there is something dark lurking near them.
“He’s just a baby,” the green eyed girl said with a frown, “He’ll barely be a gulp each.”
“Oh, but that one gulp,” I purred, “will be like drinking the moonlight.”
I reached into the crib, my long, dark nails looking especially sharp so near such tender flesh.
I brushed a finger along the baby’s nose and cooed to him softly, taking a malicious sort of joy at his terror.
Then bright, white hot pain exploded in my right shoulder-blade, numbing my arm and soaking my back with black blood.
I turned, snarling look something feral and looked at my attacker.
A man stood there, his dark eyes locked on mine and a grimace of hatred and concentration twisting his face into a grotesquerie. Though when he saw my face, my dark lips pulled back from a mouth full of long, sharp teeth, the hatred and concentration dimmed to terror.
The baby started to wail and the terror vanished; once more replaced by hate; he knew exactly what we were and what we wanted. Good for him; he had still brought me pain and that meant he would have to die the slowest, most excruciating death I could imagine.
And after 900 years, my imagination was very vivid.
I would have attacked him, pressed my lips against his skin and sedated him so I could have a long, leisurely time killing him but then he raised his weapon, a wicked looking crossbow, and aimed at my green-eyed child.
If my heart still pulsed, it would have stopped.
The quarrel was released with a twitch of the man’s finger and went screaming though the air. I did the only thing I could do in such an abrupt situation.
Moving with a dancer’s grace and twirled into the path of the quarrel and cried out when it lodged itself in my throat.
No sore throat could compare; every time I tried to swallow wave after wave of pain washed through me… but I wasn’t dead and I was filled with all-consuming wrath, which made me powerful.
I wrenched the quarrel from my throat and tossed it on the ground between myself and the hunter.
“Leave now, my children,” I rasped hoarsely. To their credit they both looked like they would refuse before I said in a low, dangerous voice, “Now.”
They both crashed out the window and tumbled down the roof. I heard their feet strike the concrete and then nothing as they vanished into the shadows where they would wait for me.
The main raised his cross bow but with a jerk of my head and a flicker of throat it went flying out his hands, exploding into the wall and falling onto the heads of the dead husband and wife.
“Now we are as we were made,” I told him softly, stepping forward, “You are at my mercy and that is the way it should be.”
He did not back away but stood strong, attempting to stare me down. But I had seen worse than him… I hade murdered worse than him and he did nothing to frighten me.
I was imagined opening his stomach, imagined his intestines sliding over the wooden floor, staining the rugs with his blood and I smiled.
Some of what I was thinking must have gleamed through that smile, for his eyes widened slightly and he finally took one stumbling step back. But as I was stepping into reach I heard the door bang open and a handful of men rush in, worried for their neighbors.
With a snarl of rage, I threw myself out the window, massive black wings billowing from beneath my cloak. I glided down to the ground and gathered my two little apprentices.
They wrapped strong slender arms around me and, with deep, powerful strokes of my wings, I propelled us across the sky, over the town and into the deep, dark forest that offered sanctuary.
When I landed, the girls simply tightened their arms around me and began to cry quietly.
“Oh, oh, children,” I murmured, dropping to my knees and cradling them both, “there is no need for tears.”
“Y-y-you almost died!” the green eyed child sobbed.
“Yes,” I told her calmly, “hunters are a threat, even to us… but I am still here, aren’t I? He did not succeed and I am still here…”
That seemed to calm them and soon their sobs had trailed off into soft, sleepy sniffles and then into deep, quiet breathing.
I sat still, holding them as they slept and kept watch for a dark-eyed hunter with a crossbow and a grudge but he did not come… not then, anyway. Perhaps one day I would turn around and he would be there, a quarrel aimed at my and he would succeed in his mission and send him into a flame of glorious true death… but he did not come that day and it would be a long time before any mortal caught me by surprise.
~~~~~
Prompt: Write a daydream in which you are the heroine who saves the day.
Whispers filled the night. From the shadows and dark, scary places, voices of the dead murmured softly, like patrons at a library. Outside, the pale eyelash of the moon offered its meager light to the earth that shivered beneath the breath of darkness that I brought with me.
In the long shadow I cast, surely too long to be mistaken for a mortal, two other girls walked. With bright, eager eyes, the looked upon the world of darkness that I had so recently introduced them to. Both smiled up at me and I smiled down at them as a mother would smile at a favored child.
We walked over uneven cobblestones and through tendrils of mist that coiled around our feet like a loving cat and I taught them how to look for prey.
“It’s in their smell,” I whispered softly and lifted my nose to the misty night, inhaling the scents of the small town and tasting the air with the tip of my tongue; it was a cool night and the air was bracing going into my warm mouth and shilling my lungs but there was something refreshing about it and I drew strength from that, as well as from the cold light of the slight moon.
The two girls looked up at me eagerly, a pair of lightning blue eyes and a pair of grass green, both laughably innocent when I considered what I was preparing to show them.
“What do you smell?” the blue-eyed girl whispered.
“I smell…” I sniffed at the air again, a blood hound on the scent of a wily vixen, “I smell a loving family… A father, mother, sister, brother… and a new baby.”
My mouth watered at the thought of the child… It would be a joy to show my two new apprentices the sweetness of young blood.
“Are they our prey?” the green eyed child breathed, eager as I had been on my first hunt. I could imagine a puppy, wagging her tail so hard, her entire backside wiggled. With that vision in mind a laugh rolled through my throat, soft, purring and dangerous.
“Yes, puppy,” I told her, “they will be our prey.”
I led them to a small cottage and stood back, studying the door, the curtained windows and the thatched roof… There was nothing there to deter me; so many had dismissed my kind as outlandish that few took the precautions anymore. There was no line of rice or salt outside the door, there were no silver bells hanging from the windows and no moving water anywhere near the house.
“Pathetic,” I muttered to myself. The two girls looked at me curiously but I simply smiled at them and ran one long, talon-tipped finger over the lock and heard the satisfying snick as the bolt drew back.
Silently, I pushed the door open, holding it for my two little shadows and then closing it just as silently behind me. If it had just been me, I would not have even bother with the door, but simply turned myself into ground mist or a spider to slid through the cracks. But neither of the little ones had yet mastered any sort of transformation so it had to be the door, as common as it was.
Silent as shadows, we slipped through the house, gliding up stairs as if we weighed no more than silk. At the top of the stairs I held up one, long-fingered hand and the two stopped, watching me with huge eyes.
I waited for a moment, straining hypersensitive ears to listen to the soft, faint breathing of the family. When all five had breathed slow, deep and even I allowed myself a moment of relaxation.
So close, I could smell all of them to an extreme that was almost uncomfortable; their skin alone was drenched in different perfumes, soaps, and colognes that did not mask their own sweat. Not from me anyway. They all slept on wood beds, a spicy, perfumed sort of wood that tickled my nose and added to the confusion, feather quilts, leather boots and soft, doe skin slippers, fur and skin all crowded my sense of smell.
“Be aware, children,” I whispered, “these people have a hundred different scents on them each… Do not breathe to deep.”
I could hear them nod and smiled.
I slipped down the hall and the two girls tip-toed after me. The green eyed girl was holding her breath and the blue eyed girl was breathing shallowly. We stood in front of a closed door that led into one of the bedrooms of the children.
I stroked the wood softly, inhaling deeply and listening to the soft movements of the sleeping child within.
“The sister,” I whispered, “Six years old and as docile as a lamb.”
I smiled a twisted smile and looked at the green-eyed child that stood next to me. She was staring hard at the door but looked up when she felt my eyes on her skin.
“This one,” I breathed, “is for you.”
She grinned and I pushed opened the door. Moonlight fell across the floor and onto the bed where a tell-tale mound indicated the little girl was indeed there.
The green-eyed girl whispered forward with steps as light as a hunting wolf, her eyes shining with feral hunger. I watched her as she held one small hand over the child’s mouth as a precaution and then bow low over the exposed neck and then slip inch-long fangs as pale as moonlight into the child’s neck.
I watched as the little child jerk slight, heard her draw a breath to scream and smelled her choking fear but then the venom that the green-eyed girl had inherited from me began to take effect and the little girl-child slumped back down in her pillow.
Transferred through saliva, our venom was deadly because it brought on a sweet sort of numb that our victims could not afford. A single kiss from any of our kind would leave the strongest of warriors smiling vacantly… he would sigh softly when fangs slipped through the delicate flesh above his jugular and he would not complain once while all of his blood was tasted, swallowed, devoured.
I know this because I had done it… a kiss and they were mine.
When the child’s breath had stopped and when she lay entirely too still, my little green-eyed daughter came back, her lips a bright crimson and her eyes glowing like little green suns.
“Better?” I whispered.
She looked up at me with the sweet sleepiness of a well fed child and nodded.
I smiled down at her and looked over at the blue-eyed girl that watched quietly, when she saw that I was looking at her, she smiled and walked across the hall to the other door.
I followed her and smirked; the smell of adolescent boy was unmistakable, I nodded to her and she opened the door, padding quietly across the floor and kneeling next to the boys bed.
There was no fear in her, no wild excitement either… simply the need to eat as anyone would have. She bent over the boy’s neck, slid her hand over his mouth and plunged her own fangs into soft, warm flesh.
The boy jerked once in surprise and then fell still, sighing softly as if he had just lain down after a very long day on his feet.
I inhaled deeply, the smell of blood made my mouth water but in all packs, the pups eat first and only when they are well fed and satisfied is the mother allowed to eat.
So I waited, still and quiet as the last drop of the boy’s blood slipped, still hot, down the blue-eyed girl’s throat. She rose and hurried quietly back over to me, grinning happily. I chuckled and ran my hand over her soft, dark hair… Now it was my turn and I was ravenous.
With the two girls in tow, I padded down the hall on the balls of my feet to the room at the end of the house. Through the door I could hear the husband’s heavy snores and wife’s soft breathing, still sound asleep while their children where being murdered a few steps away.
I pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness, following my ears to the husband’s side of the bed. I stood over him for a moment, admiring his shapely jaw, the proud curve of his nose and then I fed heartily.
His blood flooded over my lips, filling my mouth with sweet, salty life. I swallowed, drinking as eagerly as any the first time I had ever fed. I swallowed the red and felt it warm my throat, pooling in my stomach thickly like wine and felt the energy the blood contained swell within me.
The man had not even woken.
I took a small measure of pride knowing that I was skilled enough to not wake my victims, even when I fed off them. I glanced over and sneered when I saw that the woman was still sleeping deeply.
Unlike my two apprentices, who were watching with white eyed appreciation, I was still hungry, even after such a meal as a grown man. With the same ease with which I had killed the husband, the wife’s life was ended with a few pulses of crimson.
Only then did the baby start to cry out softly. I turned on the crib, my appetite, a moment ago satiated, roared back to the surface; I had forgotten about the baby.
“Now,” I said softly to the two girls behind me, “You will know ambrosia.”
I walked to the crib, not bothering to move with shadowy stealth but still making very little noise. The two girls followed me, standing above the babe’s head and looking down at him curiously. Behind them a shadow sailed over the moon and darkened the room.
“Hello, my little one,” I cooed to the little boy, who stared up at me with eyes wide with terror. One thing can be said about babies; they always know when there is something dark lurking near them.
“He’s just a baby,” the green eyed girl said with a frown, “He’ll barely be a gulp each.”
“Oh, but that one gulp,” I purred, “will be like drinking the moonlight.”
I reached into the crib, my long, dark nails looking especially sharp so near such tender flesh.
I brushed a finger along the baby’s nose and cooed to him softly, taking a malicious sort of joy at his terror.
Then bright, white hot pain exploded in my right shoulder-blade, numbing my arm and soaking my back with black blood.
I turned, snarling look something feral and looked at my attacker.
A man stood there, his dark eyes locked on mine and a grimace of hatred and concentration twisting his face into a grotesquerie. Though when he saw my face, my dark lips pulled back from a mouth full of long, sharp teeth, the hatred and concentration dimmed to terror.
The baby started to wail and the terror vanished; once more replaced by hate; he knew exactly what we were and what we wanted. Good for him; he had still brought me pain and that meant he would have to die the slowest, most excruciating death I could imagine.
And after 900 years, my imagination was very vivid.
I would have attacked him, pressed my lips against his skin and sedated him so I could have a long, leisurely time killing him but then he raised his weapon, a wicked looking crossbow, and aimed at my green-eyed child.
If my heart still pulsed, it would have stopped.
The quarrel was released with a twitch of the man’s finger and went screaming though the air. I did the only thing I could do in such an abrupt situation.
Moving with a dancer’s grace and twirled into the path of the quarrel and cried out when it lodged itself in my throat.
No sore throat could compare; every time I tried to swallow wave after wave of pain washed through me… but I wasn’t dead and I was filled with all-consuming wrath, which made me powerful.
I wrenched the quarrel from my throat and tossed it on the ground between myself and the hunter.
“Leave now, my children,” I rasped hoarsely. To their credit they both looked like they would refuse before I said in a low, dangerous voice, “Now.”
They both crashed out the window and tumbled down the roof. I heard their feet strike the concrete and then nothing as they vanished into the shadows where they would wait for me.
The main raised his cross bow but with a jerk of my head and a flicker of throat it went flying out his hands, exploding into the wall and falling onto the heads of the dead husband and wife.
“Now we are as we were made,” I told him softly, stepping forward, “You are at my mercy and that is the way it should be.”
He did not back away but stood strong, attempting to stare me down. But I had seen worse than him… I hade murdered worse than him and he did nothing to frighten me.
I was imagined opening his stomach, imagined his intestines sliding over the wooden floor, staining the rugs with his blood and I smiled.
Some of what I was thinking must have gleamed through that smile, for his eyes widened slightly and he finally took one stumbling step back. But as I was stepping into reach I heard the door bang open and a handful of men rush in, worried for their neighbors.
With a snarl of rage, I threw myself out the window, massive black wings billowing from beneath my cloak. I glided down to the ground and gathered my two little apprentices.
They wrapped strong slender arms around me and, with deep, powerful strokes of my wings, I propelled us across the sky, over the town and into the deep, dark forest that offered sanctuary.
When I landed, the girls simply tightened their arms around me and began to cry quietly.
“Oh, oh, children,” I murmured, dropping to my knees and cradling them both, “there is no need for tears.”
“Y-y-you almost died!” the green eyed child sobbed.
“Yes,” I told her calmly, “hunters are a threat, even to us… but I am still here, aren’t I? He did not succeed and I am still here…”
That seemed to calm them and soon their sobs had trailed off into soft, sleepy sniffles and then into deep, quiet breathing.
I sat still, holding them as they slept and kept watch for a dark-eyed hunter with a crossbow and a grudge but he did not come… not then, anyway. Perhaps one day I would turn around and he would be there, a quarrel aimed at my and he would succeed in his mission and send him into a flame of glorious true death… but he did not come that day and it would be a long time before any mortal caught me by surprise.
posted by Myrage | 12:58 AM
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