Into Light Bleeds Shadow (story)

The townsfolk have been searching for our lair for some time now with their dogs and another creature. We have dealt with dogs throughout time and they fear us, these other creatures do not. They seem to be a cross breed of some sort, possibly even genetically enhanced, to track and attack us without fear. Their strength is immense and their jaws powerful enough to sever a limb.

I witnessed an attack on one of our kind by a pack of these beasts.. His name was Stephan, he was my friend and lover. Having not fed for a couple of days we rose ready for the hunt. We were watching a lovely young couple kissing in the park and were about to approach them when a pack of vicious beasts broke through a thicket. They were quiet and fast. The fact that they startled us gave us an advantage. Even so, they had Stephan before he could leap into the tree where I watched as they attacked, severing one hand at the wrist and one leg bitten through at the knee. He howled and hissed as a human approached to decapitate him with an ax. At that moment I slid into shadow.

A man had arrived in the village, Nathaniel Rolard. These creatures with him.Very large and muscular with enormous feel. From a distance one could be mistaken for a large breed of albino dog, until you got close enough for a good look. There were no ears, only openings on either side of an over sized head, with yellow-orange eyes and a bat-like snout. virtually no fur to speak of, the skin is whitish and nearly transparent. The maw seems always open and drooling, full of razor sharp, spiked teeth and it's breath smells of rotting flesh.

Nathaniel introduced the villagers to his monstrosities and joined the search for our lair. Unfortunately, these beasts proved to be everything he claimed. That is when they began to discover the entrances and seal them up. One, two sometimes three in a weeks time.

Any documentation of the catacombs was destroyed mysteriously in a fire shortly after we arrived. But now with Rolard here, even our pets from the village (those who have answered our calling and allow is to feed freely) have begun to vanish, especially now that the entrances are being sealed. Apparently in an effort to keep any plans from reaching us. There are till many entrances remaining, it will take time to locate and seal them all and that is just what it is...a matter of time. There are those among us who choose to ignore the possibility that we may find ourselves trapped here for eternity.

This evening I wake before the others and prepare for the night's forage. What it that! No! They couldn't have found and sealed them all so soon. Panic stricken I find a hiding black, a shaft behind a circle of carved knots. I hear the shouts and growling, the splash of liquid; then the crackle and pop of the fire. The screams come next, of the others waking aflame.

The smell...Ughhh! I close my eyes to the stinging, stinking smoke. The screaming and crackling seems endless. When I realize the screaming and crackling have ceased, I can't recall how long ago. I don't want to leave my hiding place but I desperately need to feed. Damn, if I had kept my wits about me I could have simply slipped into shadow and escaped. It's strange what panic can do.

The fire has burned itself out. Everything is blackened. the charred bodies of all the other litter the remains of the catacombs. The air is thick with the burnt stench. There are more sounds coming from the passageways. Are they returning to inspect their handiwork? I slide behind what was once a thick red Velvet drapery, now just a tattered blackened rag. The sounds become voices of those who rested elsewhere and are returning. I am about to reveal myself when the curtain crumbles as it is snatched back and they advance, inhaling my scent and hissing. I claw my way through them hissing back and explain about the villagers who came with their creatures and torches. We search the labyrinth of catacombs looking for other who may have survived as I did. There are very few. they had coordinated their assault well. Entering from a choice few entrances to ensure total destruction of the lair and it inhabitants. They thoroughly succeeded. We have to find a new resting place4 by sunrise, somewhere far away from Nathaniel Rolard and his monsters.

Shadow is a good place to travel through, but we cannot rest in shadow. So we travel from town to town through shadow and feed. we do not know if we are truly all that is left of those who dwelt in the catacombs, but that doesn't really matter now. Once we have found another den we will have to discover what manner of man this Nathaniel Rolard is, where his demon-hounds came from and their weakness.

Antonia Stromlynn

That is who I used to be, for I was not always this way. the year was 1801. My family was not rich, but we were not poor by any means. Father, steadfast in his faith was a prominent businessman. Mother, unwavering in her devotion to Father and we three children. My brother Christopher was the eldest and Sister Concetta, the youngest. I remember Mother teaching Connie and Me Stitchery.

I recollect horseback riding one summer afternoon. I stopped near a large pond, spread d a blanket and in the balmy midday sun fell fast asleep. I woke to find twilight had settled and as I gathered myself and my belongings for the journey home, a carriage stopped alongside the road from which an uncommonly striking gentleman stepped and approached me. he was finely dressed with an aristocratic air. He bowed to me and I blushed like a schoolgirl. He introduced himself as, Adrian Meyrick, and queried regarding my being alone after dusk. Hes eyes held me mesmerized, azure as the heavens above. He insisted upon seeing me safely to my home, horse in tow; coverlet bundled between us. We engaged in conversation and the miles dissolved. Father was beside himself as the carriage arrived, but was relieved to find I had been escorted home by a gentleman of suck caliber. Adrian, interceded as Father scolded my lack of vision for staying out past moonrise. Over the weeks to follow, Father encouraged the courtship and I, myself was smitten.

Adrian would send a carriage for me nearly every evening at twilight. He would always see my home himself by midnight. Father was not pleased with these arrangements and confronted Adrian with his concerns; after which father seemed less apprehensive. Adrian asked for my hand and father had consented until Adrian refused a church ceremony, after which, father forbade me to see him.

There are unspoken laws among our kind. Children are not turned as they remain eternal children and therefore need to be cared for. We do not kill one of our own kind that law Adrian broke in a rage upon waking to fine one of his own, feeding and myself at the verge of death.

Shadow Bleeds into Light (Poem)

the lair...
a labyrinth of medieval catacombs beneath the city
dark, gloomy, fetid...a place where sunlight can't penetrate
there are Gothic railings at staircases
moldings and carvings of gargoyles and Celtic knots
as well as stained glass that adorn walls and passageways
this is where we rest.

vampires they call us
ancient, perpetual youth...terribly beautiful in face and body
voracious in hunger...
eager for the nocturnal hunt we wake
there is a danger that the lair will be found
it is and they come with torches a
and burn and burn and burn

I hide...
in a secret shaft behind a craved circle of knots
I can smell the burning flesh and hair
the acrid fumes creep into my hideaway
burn into my nostrils and scorch my eyes
(I don't want to come out
I stay till hunger drives me
everything is blackened, I can make out some forms,
bodies of the others like me, they will never rise to hunt again
sounds come through the tunnels
no time to make it back to my hiding place
so I slide between a drapery and a wall and wait.
voices and hissing...those who rested elsewhere are returning
I can hear them sniffing the sour air of the lair
and a shuffling sound
the curtain is snatched back and they close in on me
inhaling my scent, hissing
I hiss back and claw my way through their ranks
tell them what happened...
about the creature that can smell out our kind
and about the townsfolk who cane with torches

we leave to find a new den
an old abandoned factory
with the windows painted over black
Those who are unfortunate enough to stumble upon us never leave
I walk the floors at times and watch my companions feeding
some are little more that animals themselves
when the hunger takes them
attacking horrendously, ravaging sexually
and then ripping flesh to feed
with other as with myself it is an art...
the intense stare, hypnotising
the subtle taste of salt on the lips...
the sound of blood pulsing through veins
the complete surrender of the victim
and then the taste of sweet warm blood

there is always the danger from this four-legged creature
that can sniff us out
care has to be taken when venturing away from out hideaway
I find myself walking through streets unfamiliar
and upon turning a corner
find myself face to face with this creature
eyes glazed...lips pulled back in a snarl...
growling menacingly
I shroud myself in shadow
and become what these humans call invisible
this shadow is another dimension
not merely making oneself unseeable
there fore my scent banishes into shadow with me
and the growling ceases
perceptions such as sight here are a living negative
and as I look around this place of shadow I see others...
so many others...
some move in the blink of an eye...
others in slow motion...
some are like me others are not
with those of my kind who choose to feed here...
it is not the dame...
feeding here is a drawing of energy from the victim
not living essence.