Hey ya’ll! I’ve been in a no-writing funk. Vampires don’t fit into my book, and they’ve been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe this’ll get me writing again! This is set in modern times and is a stand-alone piece. It's really PG-11
The red truck bounced slightly as it went down the muddy Louisiana country road. The full moon shone brightly, illuminating the path ahead. Three men rode in the truck, silent for the task they had to do soon.
“They’ll all be hidin’,” said the man in the passenger seat. “How’re we supposed to get ‘em? They’re strongest in the dark.”
“Come on, Mark, quit complaining,” said the man at the wheel. “Peter, you doing okay back there?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m… fine,” Peter forced the lie out. “Why again do we have to kill them?”
“Peter, you should remember this by now. They can’t be trusted enough to keep alive,” the man at the wheel said flatly. “And I'm not going to tell you again.”
Vampire slaying was the only career you could still be apprenticed to. And Peter was one of few who was, or even knew that vampires were real. Two years ago, when he was sixteen, his father found the top vampire slayers in the country. He was ‘lucky’ that Greg Walhurn took him on last week.
They passed a few homes covered in mud from the storm last night, and Peter wished he were back in his, with Mom watching the news and Dad on the computer playing Canasta. A church with a towering steeple was covered in mud on all sides. Mud and blood.
“Is that where it happened?” Peter tried to hide the quiver in his voice.
“It ain’t a crime to say it aloud, boy,” Mark scowled. “Yeah, that’s where these monsters had dinner earlier. That’s where they killed the girl.”
Why don’t they just eat an animal? thought Peter. Despite the fact that he had been told everything Master knew some of his questions remained un-answered.
Soon they came to the Rest Well graveyard. The truck slowed on the path, the sound of gravel crunching under its tires rang clear. A forest lay on the edge of the graveyard, and a few stumps around the perimeter hinted expansion. The wheels squeaked as Greg slowed and stopped. No one had noticed the hum of the truck until it was turned off.
“I’ll take the west side,” Greg said unbuckling his seatbelt. “Mark, you’ll take the east, and Peter, you’ll take the woods. We’ll all take a crossbow.”
They all got out of the truck, leaving their fears behind. Or at least, all but Peter, whose fears lingered in his heart. He passed huge graves, large enough to scratch a book on the outside alone. Peter tried to ignore the fact that the dead lay there, in the ground, under his feet. He hated death. He hated killers. And most of all, he hated the fact that if he found this vampire, he would have to kill it.
Gravestones, large as boulders or small as a sheet of paper, were lined up in rows everywhere. This was one of the biggest graveyards he had ever seen, and quite a few had crossed his path. It seemed to span over a mile, the brown grass and bare trees covered any land that wasn’t already used.
The wind howled in his ear, striking more fear than was there before. Peters feet walked on bridges of grass over the mud that lay everywhere. His denim jacket wasn’t enough to block the cold. A shiver ran down his spine as he neared the woods.
Once he reached them a wolf howled. Peter instinctively turned his head to see the wolf glare at him from the top of one of the larger gravestones. Its eyes were a bright green and its fur was like snow. Beautiful, thought Peter. But it can’t be a good sign.
He went into the woods. The first step brought another howl, the second a harsh wind. Thorns tore at his jeans while sandburs stuck to his boots shoelaces. Branches seemed to be trying to cut him to pieces.
After ten minutes of this mild torture, he neared a beautiful lake. Lightning bugs fluttered around the sparkling koi swimming in the blue waters.
This can’t be real, he thought. I have got to be hallucinating.
A faint weeping sound came from one side of the lake, and ripples appeared near it. Peter rushed over, his crossbow at the ready. What he saw stunned him. A girl was lying on her belly on the edge. Her tears were creating the ripples. Another girl sat beside her, patting her back. Both had black hair that reached their waists. Both were wearing black lipstick, a lot of mascara and black nail polish. They were wearing torn, ankle-length skirts that were also black. Everything about them was black, except for their skin. It was as pale as the wolfs Peter had seen earlier.
“It’s such a shame that she had to die,” one said, her voice high and mourning. “We gave her the option.”
“I’d rather be dead than like this,” said the other, her voice full of tears. “I still don’t se why we can only drink the blood of humans, and not animals.”
“Because, dear,” the first one spoke, whipping her long hair behind her. “Animals are filthy creatures. I’d only use them if my life depended on it.”
“It’d be better than ruining, or taking, the life of someone who has feelings! Of someone who has thoughts, and loved ones! If you take that away from someone, they have nothing,” the second girl had abruptly gotten up in anger. “I should know. It was taken from me. And I chose life over happiness. Stupid.”
She had started to walk away from the lake; closer to the tree Peter was standing behind.
“Sandra, don’t!” The girl still beside the lake looked terrified.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Sandra put her back against the tree and Peter took out a wooden stake. “I have no reason at all to continue this madness. I’m going to drown myself!”
In a flash Peter whipped around to the other side of the tree, his stake over Sandras heart. Her companion ran away screaming. Peter didn’t bother to shoot her. One was enough for tonight.
“Please, kill me. You’d be doing me a favor, slayer,” her voice was clear and she closed her gray eyes.
“Why do you want me to kill you?” Peter tried to seem tough knowing he could never finish the job set before him. “Destroying the lives of others isn’t enough of a rush?”
“I don’t want to kill. We aren’t bloodthirsty, as you all seem to think. We can’t control ourselves when we go out to hunt.”
She’s trying to make me angry, Peter thought. But maybe she can answer my questions…
“Why don’t you just kill animals?” Peter said, slightly pushing on the stake. “Why humans?”
“You’re very inquisitive. But, if it’ll end my pain, so be it,” Sandra let out a little sigh. “We can’t control who, or what, we hunt. Our nature is to go for humans. The first one we see is our next victim.”
“And yet, you don’t seem happy with this,” Peter said as he furrowed his eyebrows.
“Why should we be? All it does is kill. It hurts to take a life, Peter. And it hurts to ruin lives,” a slight grin spread across her face, covering the sadness which would otherwise lay there.
After a pause, Peter said
“How do you know my name?”
“I can see it in your eyes. They are the window into the soul, after all. I can also see that you’re not going to kill me,” her grin was real now. “If you don’t, I will. I can make it look like you did. You’ll get rep points as a slayer, and I can finally have the peace I deserve.”
“Or I could protect you. Hide you, give you a new life in civilization,” Peter said with a new energy.
“I can’t go back. I’d be shunned, persecuted, blamed for the actions I can’t control,” a sense of consideration overtook the scheming attitude. “And you’d be found out. I’m not going to ruin your life too. I’ve done enough. Goodbye.”
As Peter puzzled over what she meant by ‘goodbye’, Mark came whooping through the trees.
“You found it!! Oh sweet mother, you found her!!! Yahoo!! …Well, go on. Kill it! You have a witness now, kill it!”
Peter looked once more into the eyes of the vampire girl. A smile of happiness for what was to come lit up her face. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and he knew only one thing: love at first sight was real. He couldn’t kill anything, and this girl he wanted to protect. He dropped the stake in his hand and looked down at her, being nearly a head taller.
Before he knew what had happened, a stake stood out of her neck. The smile was frozen on her cold face that fell to his shoulder. He carefully lay her down on the ground. After he squinted to pull back tears, Peter looked up at Mark in anger. His crossbow was in hand, a frown spreading across his visage.
“You’ll never be a slayer if you can’t kill one right under your nose. Pick her up, Peter. We have to go.”
Peter never went on a vampire hunt again.
Yes, I know, sad ending right? I’ve had this in my head for a while so I thought I’d put it down on paper and submit it. Critiques are welcome, though I can’t say I’ll be editing this.
