‘When the light faded from her beautiful, golden eyes, I swore my revenge. May they all be dead by morning’
“He’s waking, the boy! He lives!”
A moan escaped from his cracked lips. He was pale as hell, bandages wrapped around his chest, catching the blood from his wound. “Alexandra,” he mumbled, “Alexandra.” His eyes remained closed, and his breathing slow and ragged.
“Hush now boy, you’re hurt.”
“How could you be so gentle to such a monster!” the man dived for the boy, steam rushing out of his ears. He grabbed the boy’s collar and shook him. The two men grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back.
“Have mercy! The boy is ill!” said one, straining to keep the man away from the boy.
“He killed her! He killed her!”
“We don’t know that Kingston, control yourself man,” said the other.
Kingston dropped to his knees and rose his hands to his face. He wept, and when he did so, it made their hearts drop with pretty.
“She was my only one left,” he sobbed, “my wife and my daughter, both dead! Bartholomew! Kill me!” He continued to cry.
“There will be no more deaths tonight,” Bartholomew soothed, placing a chubby hand on Kingston’s shoulder.
Sherwood walked over to the boy, his long spidery legs getting him to the couch in one stride. The boy lay there, sweating, his eyes flicking frantically beneath their lids. “Zane, child, do wake up,” he said, and then slapped Zane in the face.
“Ahh,” groaned Zane, his eyes sprang open, and he looked up at Sherwood with a look of ‘what the hell was that for.’
“Sorry,” said Sherwood, “you wouldn’t wake up.” Zane sat up lightning fast.
“Tell me good man,” he choked, “it didn’t happen, did it?” Sherwood nodded his head sadly. “I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them all.” He said, jumping off the couch, but Sherwood gently pushed him down again.
“Heed child, there is nothing you can do.”
“I will not sit while those things are out there!”
Kingston lowered his hands and looked at Zane, hatred lay in his eyes. Bartholomew took his hand off of Kingston’s shoulder and stood up. “Things? What things child? You’re speaking gibberish!”
“The vampire,” Zane choked, “it killed her.”
Sherwood stood there, arms folded, thinking hard, while Bartholomew rolled his eyes, and Kingston sprang to his feet for another round. The men grabbed him as his hands clawed an inch away from Zane’s face.
They forced him into and arm chair.
“He’s delusional Kingston, delusional.”
“Sherwood, you believe me Sir, don’t you?”
“It does fit the puzzle, but there is one problem, vampires don’t exist.”
“I saw one! It got Alexandra, took her blood!” he yelled. “Took her soul,” he said quietly.
Sherwood fixed the sleeves of his grey suit. “The boy is clearly ill!” Bartholomew said, gesturing his hand towards Zane.
“You know it’s true! Each victim has had two puncture marks on their necks, and their blood drained!”
“Young Zane, tell me, what happened before?”
“I’ll tell you what happened! This is what the evidence tells us. He fought with her, hurt her, took her outside. He pierced her neck with his knife. She then stabbed him, she passed on and the boy passed out.”
“You still didn’t mention how the blood was drained, Bartholomew. Maybe we should listen to Zane’s story?”
Bartholomew made a ‘humph’ sound, before forcing himself to nod his head.
“Well, Zane, tell us,” Sherwood gently said.
Zane took a deep breath, struggling to keep the tears from swelling as he went over the tragic events. “I was with Alexandra, we were discussing the murders. I heard someone open and close the door, and went to investigate. When I found no one, I came back and found that Alexandra was gone. The room was a mess. Then the door open and closed again. I ran outside, and saw a man. He had Alexandra, and it was as clear as day that he was drinking her blood,” at this, Bartholomew shook his head. “I got out my knife, to stop it, and when I went to get it, I found the knife in my back, and the monster was already running away.” Zane began to cry, the tears falling down his face like streamers, and the shock obvious in the shake of his voice. “I was too late, she was dead!” he buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the horrors he had witnessed. “Dead!”
“Calm, child, calm,” Sherwood soothed, placing a spidery hand on his shoulder. “Are you saying this man stabbed you?” Zane nodded, the bandages wrapped around him like a comforting hug. The blood stained the white like melted ion in snow. He was in pain, of course, but what did it matter. His love was dead.
“Where is she? Where is my Alexandra?”
“I’m afraid the Parish Constable has already taken her away for examination.”
Suddenly, Zane sprang to his feet, his face red with vengeance. “I’ll kill that vampire!” he screamed, and before anyone could stop him, he was on his feet and out of the mansion.
“Stop him! He is a murderer!” Bartholomew yelled, Kingston huddled up into a ball and silently sobbed, while Sherwood sprinted after Zane.
Follow the trail of blood, it had to be as simple as that. Zane grabbed a lantern that lit the steps to the mansion, and continued with haste towards the direction the monster had headed in. as it seemed, the vampire had sucked up every ounce of blood, and licked its lips as it did so. There was no trail of blood to be found. Sherwood’s footsteps were loud in the night, and Zane dropped the lantern, letting it shatter. Sherwood could not follow him if he did not see him.
It was when he was running down an empty street that it got him.
London was so cold at his time of year, though, it was almost always cold. The street lanterns flickered and fidgeted, like children high on sugar. A white owl sat perched on one of the lanterns. Its head turned all the way around as Zane ran past.
The cold night stung his skin, and he wished he was wearing more than bandages as a shirt, at least something to put over his bare shoulders.
He stood in the middle of the road, breathing hard. “Where are you vampire?!” he screamed. There came a chuckle, that sounded like it came from every direction.
Then came a voice from behind, “here I am!” Zane went to spin around, but before he could do so, he found himself struggling for breath, an icy had wrapped around his throat like a snake, and he was gagging. His head pounded from the lack of oxygen, his veins crushed by the extreme pressure. He dug his nails into the arm, but it did nothing. His eyes became droopy, and his limbs slunk like slinkies, he was no longer in control.
“Nighty-night!” whispered the voice. Then darkness.
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,815 Reviews
Hey Em, here to review.
It's a good piece. You start things off rather well, setting the scene pretty quickly - the mood, as the piece does lack some quantity of description - and set, as Threnody said, the characters were also set fairly quickly. I can already identify some Tropes in the characters - which can be good, but careful not to cookie-cut them or not develop them as much as they could, as it would ruin the excellent scene you've set up - and am eager to read more.
Now, pleasantries aside, let me comment on what I didn't think was so excellently worded (though they're just nitpicks, mind you, very much nit-picks. )
Um... I don't usually associate 'hell' with 'pale', but it just might be an euphemism I've missed out on or just an added enforcement of 'pale', so I don't know. Do what you will with it.
Whoa, where did three men pop out all of a sudden here?!
Should read: “Have mercy! The boy is ill!” Said one, (...)
Along the same lines is:
You use 'said' a lot, when 'added', 'exclaimed', 'sobbed', and such things could be employed. At least, that's my impression in the firs bit.
I see what you mean here, of course, but maybe: (..) he looked up at Sherwood with a look meaning/indicating/something of the sort ‘what the hell was that for.’
The twist bit, now. The good bit. (By good I mean 'interesting'. The whole thing is good, don't worry XD)
First, you could have set the scene more, of course. By doing that, you could have fleshed out the scene, if only a bit, by having Zane feel followed or something, play up the fear, then bam, vamp assault. Of course, that would spoil the element of surprise. Just a thought, this.
Specifically, still in this paragraph, though:
Try:
Then came a voice from behind.
"Here I am!"
Zane spun around/went to spin around, (...)
To tie things up, you did an excellent job, but consider these points I made for maximum effect.
Hope this helped
~Ita
Hello! I really like this story! The twist at the end was pretty interesting and it was quite a surprise. Your use of dialogue in pacing the story was very good. I just have a few things to comment on.
I think that by "pretty" you mean "pity."
Though your characterization was very strong, I feel as if some characters were sort of muddled. What I mean by this is that the action between the men at the beginning was very quickly paced and did not leave much differentiation between the characters. I had to read it multiple times to understand who was doing what to whom and which characters related to what...etc. Adding distinction, bold distinction such as a speaking style or a noticeable character trait, would really clear up this section and make everything flow much better.
Also, I think that you could define the setting much more. Though the setting does not drive your action, knowing what everything looks like, at the beginning in particular, would really flesh out your story and develop it to it's fullest potential.
Additionally, I think the vampire idea could be brought out much more. What I mean is that the argument regarding whether or not Alexandra was attacked by vampires could be much stronger. I want the reader to also doubt the truth, not just come across a measure of doubt in one of your characters voices. This would help the twist at the end come across as much more powerful.
Also, I think the slinky reference in the last paragraph seemed mildly out of place. You set the scene with the dialogue, describing a time period where everyone was rigidly formal and afraid of things such as vampires. This would put your setting, as you never specified it, somewhere in 18 or 19th century. However, slinky toys were invented in 1945 and seem extremely out of place in this story. This whole idea related to the dating of your piece. I think that the mood you set really helps establish the setting, but adding inconsistencies such as this compromises this.
In all, great story. Your style was very well defined and your dialogue was great. I do hope that you consider my suggestions as I feel they could really improve your story.
Thanks for the great read,
Threnody
I thought this short story was really well done, and truthfully, by the halfway point, I wanted to read more. But I thought the ending was sort of abrupt ( well all action scenes should be like that). Also, I felt that more information was needed on the characters because at first, I thought the boy was a kid but since he is in love, he must be a teenager. I can vaguely imagine the setting as being 17 or 18 th century England so , that part's fine. All in all, good job, and keep writing!
Hi there!
This is not your only short story ending with the death of the main character, is it? You are depriving your readers of their main joy! *sniff*
Anyway, let's review. You have a few typos and grammos, but they are isolated incidents. I've just typed them out, mostly corrected. Many of them are no more than comma problems.
He was pale as hell, (pale as hell is a strange simile—hell is usually seen as red and fiery.)
“We don’t know that, Kingston. Control yourself, man."
it made their hearts drop with pity.
he looked up at Sherwood with a look of ‘what the hell was that for.’ (The repeat of "look" is a problem.)
I’ll kill them all,” he said,
Kingston lowered his hands and looked at Zane. Hatred lay in his eyes.
“Sherwood, you believe me, sir, don’t you?”
“It does fit the puzzle, but there is one problem. Vampires don’t exist.”
it was as clear as day that he was drinking her blood.” At this, Bartholomew shook his head.
The blood stained the white like melted iron in snow. He was in pain, of course, but that did not matter.
London was so cold at this time of year,
in the direction the monster had headed in. As it seemed, (that whole sentence needs a bit of reconstruction to clarify it.)
his limbs slunk like slinkies, (this phrase seems a bit strange, but there is nothing wrong with it.)
“Where are you, vampire?!”
Then came a voice from behind. “Here I am!”
So that's it for the spelling and grammar.
Try keeping each character clearly defined. Before, Kingston was the one trying to get to Zane. In the end, Sherwood is the one who runs after him. If Kingston is really so angry, shouldn't he be chasing after the supposed murderer on the loose? Make each character very much different to the others.
Nice dialogue, but I am unsure how old Zane is. The men speak as if he is a little boy, but he cannot be, because he is in love. Try to clarify that, because he is the central character. We want to know something about him. The dialogue also makes the whole scene appear to be historic, because of the "hush" and "heed". It would be nice to know for sure.
Well written! Keep it flowing!