Young Writers Society

So, i've tried to post this three times and each time a new complication has arrised! This is for the Vampire Contest that ends on August 20. I'm obviously new, and and sorry for the ungodly length.

~*~

I stand on the pinnacle of a cliff. Beneath me, a river flows serenely through a grassy valley. The sun beats down upon me, but I'm not worried about burning. Who says vampires can't go out in the sun, I think.

Humans have created many myths about us. So many, in fact, that a true vampire could go unnoticed in the world. Bile clung in my throat at the word vampire. Over the many years of legends upon legends, the word vampire had become a hated, despicable thing. Was it really that awful for us to be what we were created to be?

Maybe, I think, it is simply the fact humans cannot accept that they are not at the top of the food chain. A cloud passes under the sun, and I flinch instinctively at the shadow. Thousands of years of evolution has made me the best predator on the earth, but the nerves that go along with that position sometimes bother me.

I take a deep breath to clear my wandering mind. As I do, the scent of an elderly human wafts into my airways. My throat instantly waters, and my eyes dart in all directions. Elaina, I tell myself, concentrate. There's no need to be in a hurry. The worst part of being a vampire is the diet we have to consume. We must drink human blood, for it is the only thing that contains the correct nutrients that our bodies must have to survive. Humans are so...so conscious though, but it's not like I can eat anything else.

In one swift leap, I jump off of the cliff down to the rocky shore below. Every muscle vibrates, as they should after a two hundred foot drop, and I stand up slowly from my crouch. The pebbles make delicate crunching sounds as I tread lightly to the shore. I smile softly as the water laps at my feet like an old friend and take a look at my frightening appearance.

I flinch, even though I know it is me. In the human world, I would be called an albino. In the vampire world, I am called The White One. It's a nickname of sorts, but rarely when a vampire sees me do they say, "Hello Elaina," or, "Good day." Instead, they merely nod and whisper my cursed title. As I am a freak in the human world, I am a freak in my own.

It's not like The White One is a precious title. It's merely a fact. Because of how I look, they think I must be different inside too. Vampires are not as humans think we look. We do not lurk in crypts and caves, and usually, our skin is not exceptionally pale. We are an entirely different race that they could not even begin to study. It seems though, that all life has one common link. The prejudice of appearance. When I think of such prejudice, I grit my fangs in simmering anger. It seems, the world boils down to looks.

My looks are quite a sight to behold. I have white hair that falls in drifting curls down to the mid of my back. If my skin would not be such a bleached white, I would be considered beautiful in both the human world and my own. I have sharp features yet they are delicate. My mouth is a light; heavenly pink-ish white, yet very full and my eye shape is large and innocent looking.

My eye color though are what scare people. They are a bright, mesmerizing red when I've just fed. But, like a normal albino's eyes, when I'm hungry, my eyes are the lightest shade of pink. So pink, in fact, that they nearly blend in with the white of my eye. As I stare into my reflection, I can barely tell my iris' are there.

I look as if I am a young teenager in human years. In vampire years I am around sixty and still considered a child. They mock me for my deep thinking though. My kind thinks hunting humans is a game, the higher the number the more prestige. I look at it as a way to survive, for no other animal can give us enough nourishment.

The scent of the elderly human wafts back into range. I can now tell there are two of them, each floating merrily on a trip down river. From the smell of painted, wet wood, I know they are in a little row boat. Damn my hunger, I think bitterly, damn what I must do to survive. I hold no honor in killing the conscious.

My kind does not seem to share my same opinion in the fact that since they have thoughts, they should not be killed. I have proposed many ideas to the councils, such as drawing only their blood and then having vampires drink it.

The Eldest Council consented to let me try that one, since it was one of my better, more practical ideas. I had kept a house full of human captives, and tried to take their blood with needles, but as soon as me and my assistants pricked their skin, our feeding instincts took over. What was left was worse than any horror movie invented in the humans' Hollywood. I was disgusted with myself, and what I could see we were forced to be, and I took to the wilderness alone. That is where I am now, and here I wait in stony patience for my food to come.

They drift around the bend and into view. My focus on them sharpens clearly, and my throat lusts for them with an intense passion. It's been months since I've eaten, and I cannot hold off any longer.

Each one has frosty white hair and wrinkled tan skin. The woman is wearing a blue summer dress with a church hat that casts a shadow on her aged face. The man wears a green polo with khaki slacks, and a large watch. I see him say something, and hear her beautiful laugh echo across the peaceful waters.

In a mere second, my plan grows clear in my head. By now, it's only my instincts acting. As they draw within yards of my spot, I see a glistening golden cross hung around the man's neck, and a silver dove pendant on the woman's dress. May your God comfort you, I think, and may he truly exist.

"Please help!" I yell. The sound of my voice echoes throughout the valley, shocking the couple.

"I've lost my family on a hiking trip," I say loudly. My battered black pants and faded red shirt fit my facade perfectly. The couple whispers among themselves, and slowly start rowing over.

"Come in, dear," the woman says in a light voice that echoes the fall wind, "We'll travel to the next spot and try to find your family." I see the man look wearily at my pink eyes, but since he is a man of his god, he says nothing.

"Thank you so much," I reply. The scent of their blood is now burning my throat. I can barely breathe. Even vampires need oxygen.

I hold my breath as long as I can once we push off into the middle of the river. The woman is talking to me, but I cannot listen. Instead, the pounding of their hearts and the buzz of electricity that moves their blood is echoing in my head.

"Hey, hey, are you okay?" I hear the man ask faintly. Every muscle tenses in preparation for the kill. With one swift move I bash both of their frail heads together. Their blood stops flowing immediately, and my head clears. I stand up on the floating boat and look at the scene of death before me. Even though I am hungry, I am sickened. The man's cross makes a metallic noise he drops to the bottom of the boat. I bear my fangs and dip to the ground, about to plunge into his fleshy neck as I see the woman's face, empty and glazed, near my own.

A panic like never before sets into my veins. I am a monster, I think, and monsters do not deserve life. I dive off of the drifting boat, but even the cool water does not relieve me. Through the clear, blue water I can see sharp rocks a couple meters below. As I reach the shore, my clothing soaking, I look up at the massive cliff I had first smelled the couple from.

It takes me merely moments to scale the cliff's rocky edge, and soon enough I stand at the same precipe as once before. Below, the rocks welcome me with stony arms. I look down and see the couple, glazed and dead, continue to float on. The picture of the man's cross appears in my mind.

I take a step forward, hovering dangerously over the edge. Only the balls of my feet remain firmly planted. As I stand here, every kill flashes through my mind, each one bringing on a bigger sensation of finality. If you are there, oh human god, find pity on me, I think.

And then I fling myself off the edge, embracing the serenity that will come with impact.