And here are all of the stories:
Matt - Council of the Night
Quote:
I should introduce myself, really, shouldn't I? I'm a creature of the night. Some people call them ghosts, and others call them phantoms, but we're just the freaks that people rejected from your community. If you discard a friend, one of us is born. We stand for the hurt in the world, and we can neither live, nor die. It's a harsh, miserable life, so we try to entertain ourselves as much as we can. If you hear blinds clattering or the branches of a tree shaking at night, that isn't the wind, as your parents tell you. It's us, trying to wake everyone up. If we can't sleep, why should anyone else be able to? But what about me? Well, my name is Esgðth, and I'm a member of the council. The council of the night is a big organization, and we try to teach people the lessons of life. At least that's what they call it, it's a little less glorified than that. I'll fill you in on my latest victim, a little puppy dog. I had been watching her, sitting at the window observing her habits for two years before all of this took place.
It was a dark, windy night. Above me, the unforgiving rain clouds hovered, threatening to spill out their contents. I was sheltered, though, beneath the ledge above the window I was sitting at, watching the lazy dog slowly climbing into her basket in the old, traditional kitchen. She raised her front paw to her face, and licked it. I had never liked dogs. They relaxed all day, never doing any work, just slobbering over their owner, try to steal some food or guilt their 'friends' into relinquishing their dinner so that they can gorge down more food for another 5 minutes. Lazy, greedy dogs.
Looking back at the cocker spaniel, I was reminded why I hate it so much. Sitting in its basket, so heavenly, it smilied at its young owner, who was ascending to stairs going to his bedroom. As the dog could hear the last stair being stood upon, and the creaking sound leaking out of the corridor, she stopped the front she put on, and gained a more savage grin. Using her mouth, she tore open cupboard, and clawed out the food that was hidden there. She started by tearing open a packet of rice, but tasting the bland flavour of it, she rejected it by throwing the burst packet across the kitchen floor, sending the grains of rice everywhere. Next, she attacked a packet of crisps, and she found these much tastier. The dog just stood there, crunching at the crisps, with the shards flying everywhere. Very few of the crisps ever made her stomach, but wasn't it always that way? Dogs not being bothered to swallow? As she greedily leapt into her second packet of crisps, she was unaware of what was going on around her. This was my time to strike.
I pried open the window, silently, careful to avoid any creaks so as to not wake anyone up. Turning my head away from the cold night, I turned to see the spaniel still enjoying the crisps, not phased by the cold air entering the room. Letting out a slight cough to distract the dog from the feast that lay on the kitchen floor in front of her, she span around, eager to see what fiend had distracted her from the meal. Never, in my two years of surveying her, had I seen such a look on the dog's face. The moon-lit eyes had widened, and she stared with disbelief at how hideous a creature could stand before her. The torn, black hair stood on end as if bats lived there. The disfigured face stood beneath that, and covered with scars, it wasn't a pretty sight either. One of the eyes had fallen out, and it its place, someone had placed a pure, white ball, always watching. The worst, however, was what was beneath my face, but englufed in shadows, the mongrel had no way to tell what I looked like.
Gently floating to the ground, my heels made a metallic click against the wooden floor that the owners had recently put in. What a shame it'll be when I ruined it, I though in my snide manner. The dog opened her mouth, as if to let out a bark, but the look that I gave her made her close her mouth, silently. I took another step forward towards the dog, revealing more of my body. Above the waist, I had on no clothes, but this only revealed the torn body. Wounds were made all around it, so wide and deep that one could peer inside my body. The largest one, being over my heart, showed everyone the constant beating of the darkened blood around what was left of me. Although I had no mouth, I smiled within me, with the dog having smelled the foul odour that I had acquired, permanently flitting between rubbish dumps and land fills, trying to find a place to live where the humans wouldn't find me. This all added to the fear of the dog, but I think the main area of the fear was that she knew what would happen, deep down. All our victims do, they just don't realise it without us triggering such grim memories of rejection.
I took the final step forward, and I was standing over the dog, my body fully revealed by the dim light from the parents' bedroom. The dog could see what was underneath my waist, and for the first time, she was truly sorry for stealing the owner's food; for rejecting its owner in the park; even memories of when it was first born, stealing her brother's milk. She knew what had to happen now. Letting out a small, pungent breath from my nostrils, the beasts, all living within me, flew out. some shaped like lizards, or birds, some formed from gases and others of solid. Our death is never slow, it's always very fast. I floated back to the window, and watched my minions attack the poor dog. The dark shapes floated around her first, and then for each and every rejection the victim has made, one flies into their body, causing immense pain. As the last one entered the body, the dog slowly withered, each of the shapes stealing parts of its mind. Leaving the house, I could see what we had left behind. The empty skin of the dog had collapsed against the ground, with nothing inside. Staining the floor was a deep, red blood. It flooded the kitchen, and seeped under the door, giving the family a surprise before they could see the true horror the next morning.
I know I shouldn't have feelings, formed as a being of darkness, but whilst I was looking over the carnage that had been left behind in the kitchen that day, I saw the young boy, and the look on his face as he saw the drained carcass of what had been his life for so long. That struck me in the heart, as it always does, but you cannot do anything about it. You are a property of the night, and I had to do my next duty. But be careful, nobody is safe from the wrath of night. Especially you.
Lillie - One Must DieQuote:
Garlic is the worst thing in the world.
Apparently, most vampires are allergic to garlic. Unfortunately, so am I. However, it is my only -- no, one of my three only -- weapons against my enemy. Another one is the dark. The final one is a secret. At least, it is a secret for now until I deal my final blow to him. I am afraid he knows about it though. That is why he is after me at the same time I am after him. The winner is the one who attacks first. We each have only one chance to deal a fatal blow.
My eyes are watering. I swear, garlic is truly the worst thing in the world. I don't have any idea why I have to take this with me if I'm so allergic to it. No wait, I do have an idea. It wasn't my idea though, and if I may say so, it's a bad idea.
"He might be allergic to garlic, you know. Most vampires are allergic to garlic. If he sees you brandishing some garlic, he might be taken by surprise and re-consider what to do. While he's doing that, you can attack him. Put an end to him," my mother had told me.
"But why me?" I whined. "I'm not even eighteen yet! I'm not old enough to take on such a mission. Someone with more experience should do this!"
"You're going to do it on your eighteenth birthday," my father announced. "So you will be old enough for the mission."
Talk about having your bubble popped. I'd always lived under the security of my parents' strength and wealth. My father was the most powerful and richest of his generation and my mother didn't live a shabby life either. (Her family has an estate at the foot of the Transylvanian Alps. We go there every winter for holidays. It's massive. I've never finished exploring it.) I'd always assumed my transition into the adult world would be painless. After all, don't my parents dote on me?
Apparently not.
Oh, they'd warned me to be careful. It's partly my fault I'm in this mess in the first place. Their methods of being careful didn't appeal to me though. "Make friends with our friends" was what they had told me. I don't like being as prejudiced as them. I like making friends outside of the normal social circle. I thought they'd approve of the new friend I made last month -- the son of one of the most powerful Romanian families. You don't meet many Romanians outside of the country. How was I to know his family is my family's greatest enemy? The family that my family has been fighting for generations, each killing the other time and time again? It's taboo to befriend each other. Even I understand it. Vampires and vampire hunters simply cannot be friends. The only way to amend the situation is to kill the other. Kill or be killed.
So tonight will be the final showdown between the vampire and the vampire-hunter. We are each the sole heir or heiress to our family. One of us must die. There will be no more feud after this, because it will be all over. This is when it all ends. One of us will die.
I groan inwardly. It's really not a pretty thought to have to kill your friend and it's not like I enjoy this feud. I don't want him to die. There's only fifteen more minutes to midnight and then I shall be eighteen. When members of my family become grown-up at eighteen, we gain a new power to fight our enemy. It's hereditary, so I have no fears about not having the power. All I'm afraid of is that he may find and kill me before I am eighteen. So far I have been successful in avoiding him.
A creak. I freeze. Someone is coming. I flee.
The flickering torches on the walls lengthen the shadows. If only this castle was not the chosen place for the showdown! I can't see anything. "Use it to your advantage," my mother advised me, "and creep up behind him under cover of the night. As soon as it begins to dawn, he will see things clearer and you will not be able to fight him." She seems to forget I have a problem seeing things in the dark as well.
He, my victim-to-be, is apparently very experienced in killing my kind. Another reason why I should not be the assassin. The odds seem to be against me. It would have been better to get an experienced relative to do the job. I've got plenty of relatives who have killed members of his family. Why, I'm sure my parents could do it. But no, it's my job. I argued that I should try killing someone who hasn't got any kind of experienced either, so it might be fairer. Imagine what my parents said to that.
"Kill someone innocent? That's morally inethical."
Excuse me, so what am I? I'm innocent as well. I've never killed anyone. He's just going to kill me because I belong to my family. Sheesh.
Enough whining though; it's time to get serious. Three minutes and I will be eighteen.
A brainwave strikes me. I must move quickly though.
One minute to midnight, I confront him. He's holding garlic as well. His eyes are watering. It seems that he is allergic, like me. We stare at each other, both taken off-guard.
"So," he said, "I guess you also know that most vampires are allergic to garlic."
"Yes," I murmur in agreement, my mind whirring at a frantic pace. I need a new plan and quickly. "I take it you did too."
"Of course I did."
We stare at each other, not really knowing what to do.
"I don't want to kill you," I said at last. I start to cry. His poker face twitches sadly for a while before resuming its expressionless attitude. So he doesn't want to kill me either.
"I must kill you though."
"Okay," I agree readily. He's surprised. I don't think he believes me. I take a step forward. "Do it already." He glances at the clock. Only thirty seconds to midnight. He has to do it before I turn eighteen.
"It's going to hurt a bit," he told me. He moves forward. To do it fast, you have to be in close contact. The stake is ready to pierce me through the heart from the back.
Thank goodness he is such a softie. He puts his arms around me. At least I get a hug before I die. He lifts his arm with stake in hand, readying himself to kill me. I bite him.
He's rubbing the two puncture holes I gave him on his neck. My newly developed fangs feel a bit tired. Biting is really actually harder than I thought. The stake lies deserted on the ground with our garlic in a heap. Garlic is really the worst thing in the world. I make a motion to move away and he agrees.
"That was a close one," I remark. He wrinkles his nose. He's lost his humanity and is now a vampire. I guess he's not going to be a good loser about this. I slip my hand through his. "Think about it this way, ex-vampire hunter. You get to live forever. Or at least for a few thousand years." I frown. I never really knew how long vampires live. We were always getting killed by vampire hunters.
He sighs and squeezes my hand. "I suppose you're right," he said resignedly. Oh, so he's not such a sore loser after all. He smiles at me, then asks questioningly, "But how did you get your fangs? It's only just midnight now. You're not supposed to turn into a full-fledged vampire until you're eighteen, are you?"
"Oh," I said in what I hoped was an off-hand manner. "I just changed the times on the clocks." He raises his eyebrows. "Well, some of them. And hoped that you weren't going to go into a room where the time was different. I knew you usually don't wear a watch, so I took a gamble on your bad sense of time and won."
He laughed and tweaked my nose. I like it.
"Okay, now tell me how you turn into a bat and where my new home is. I take it I can't live like a vampire hunter anymore." I shake my head. "You just spin around on your right foot, wrap your arms around yourself and close your eyes," I told him. "Then follow my lead."
As I watch him turn into a bat, I smile. My parents are going to be pleased. My mother will be pleased about the garlic. She'll insist it tipped the scale in my favour. But I still think that garlic is the worst thing in the world.
Wind - Hunted downQuote:
That night I heard the hoof beats again.
I lay awake in my bed, listening as their sound grew louder and louder, until I couldn't hear it anymore. I turned the lights on, jumped off the bed and opened the window.
The town's square was deserted, but I could still make out, on the edge of hearing, a faint sound of hoof beats.
At first I had tried to ignore them, pretending they existed only in my mind. I tried to go on with everyday's life.
But they kept following me everywhere, driving me crazy, and I knew they were coming for me.
So I ran away.
Through many countries, desperately trying to put as many kilometers as possible between me and them.
For a while, I thought they'd lost my tracks or given up. After many long, terrible nights I could sleep again.
It took them only a week to find me, and when they returned it was worse than ever.
That night they had been louder than ever, and they had stayed for a longer time. Even when they night was silent again, I couldn't sleep. I didn't dare to, because I was afraid. Afraid to wake up at the sound of hoof beats.
When it dawned, pale and tired, I went downstairs. The owner of the hotel was serving breakfast, and I asked him if he heard a horse passing in the square during the night.
"Oh, no, sir. They're not allowed into the town's center, they would make a mess in the streets," he laughed.
I went paler, and didn't eat anything.
Until the sun stayed high in the sky, I sat in a corner of my room staring out of the window. At sunset I shivered. I suddendly wanted to be with other people, and feared my loneliness.
I went out in the crowded streets, full of people returning home for dinner, and felt immediately better. I couldn't hear anything but people's voices.
I walked for a long time, lost in the trail of my thoughts, until a chilly wind made me shiver. I looked up and realized with horror that my feet had brought me out of the main streets and into the outskirts of the town. Trees had already started replacing the houses on both sides of the street, and their dark shapes looked eerie in the moonlight. Because the moon was already high in the sky, a silvery full moon. But I was sure that the previous night it was only half moon.
I turned and started walking back in town, but the more I walked the more the trees around me thickened. I ended up walking in a dark forest, because the branches of the trees blocked the moonlight, and I was afraid. Afraid not of the dark, but of the things it could hide.
And then, louder than the sound of my maddened hearth, louder than ever, louder than anything human, I heard the hoof beats. They were coming for me.
I tried to run away, but I knew I couldn't escape. I could hear them behind me, growing louder and louder. I turned my head to see what was coming, and in that moment I stumbled on a fallen branch and fell on my knees.
I didn't even bother to straighten myself up: I knew I couldn't escape. I sat on the cold ground and faced my destiny.
The horse was approaching at gallop speed, and I could already make out its outline. The rider was wearing a black hooded cloak that hid his face.
He stopped the horse a few meters away from me and stood motionless for a while, looking down at me.
"Who are you?" I finally asked with shaky tones.
"You should know," he replied in a low, quiet voice. "Because you are the one who killed me."
"No!" I whispered, horrified at the sight but still unable to look away from him.
He pulled back his hood and I couldn't help giving out a loud cry. Because above his bleeding neck there was nothing but air. He didn't have a head.
"With this very same axe," he went on, showing me a bloodstained weapon, "in a night of full moon, two months and five days ago."
"No, it's not possible," I repeated. "You're dead!"
"Yes. But I have come back. Not for my lost life, not for a personal revenge, but for the girl I loved."
The headless horseman turned around and pointed to a pale shape that was slowly coming towards us.
It was a beautiful, young girl in a white dress. But the dress was soaked with water and covered with bloodstains, and she was staring in front of her at something nobody else could see.
She was holding something in her hands.
"You were jealous of us. Jealous of our love. That's the reason why you killed me."
I put my hands on my ears, not wanting to hear its voice, but it was as if the words reached the brain directly.
And I was forced to hear the story of my crime directly from my victim.
"We were friends, once," the spectre began. "I shared everything, my time, my money, my life with you. But I could not share the girl I loved.
That night I had asked you to meet me next to the lake. I told you we were going to get married. But you were crazy, you started screaming at me. And, in the end, you saw an axe used by woodcutters, and with that you killed me.
I will not annoy you with a story you already know. You ran away, thinking it was finished. But it was only the beginning.
When she arrived and saw my dead body, something in her mind broke. She drowned herself in the lake."
The girl was holding a head, now I could see it clearly.
"I didn't want to! I was out of my mind!" I screamed. "And I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, it's not my fault... Not to her, not to her," I sobbed.
"Her father is powerful, and his power is not that of money. She was his only daughter. He brought my soul back to get his revenge.
You knew you could not escape, not even by passing in the world of humans."
I bent my head.
"Then kill me," I said, closing my eyes.
"No," he whispered. "I can not take your life. Through the world of dead, the world of demons and into the world of humans, I was sent to hunt you down. For all the years of your life, and all the ages of human people, that will be your punishment. And you will have no friends nor love, and will live in fear and remorse."
When I opened my eyes again he was gone, but I could still hear his hollow laugh and the sound of hoof beats.
Kurisutaru - Dream HorrorQuote:
Jessica curled up on her worn out sofa with her trusty spiral notebook in her lap. No fancy gadgets for her, not that she could afford them. She murmured to herself as her pen glided across the page. She wasn’t so bad off, she had this small apartment, and sure the building was a bit run down, but so what? When people asked her what she did, she would always respond with a deadpan look and the words, “I’m a starving writer”. That’s right, a starving writer, just like the starving artist. She writes for a living, the problem is it’s not very profitable when you write something no one wants to read…or publish.
She signed and leaned her head closer to the paper. Normally she wrote happy stories with sweet endings, the kind of stories that were supposed to make her readers feel warm and fuzzy inside after reading it. Unfortunately stories like that just weren’t selling…at least not in enough numbers for her to have her stories published. Tonight was different though, she was going to try writing a different type of story. Jessica was going to write a vampire story filled with horror and suspense. After all look where Stephen King is, didn’t he write mostly suspense and horror books?
“The unknowing victim sat in her silent room and tried to relax,” she read along as she wrote, “when suddenly she a creak from behind her…” Jessica broke off frowning. She inserted the word loud into the sentence, “she heard a loud creak from behind her.” She nibbled on her pen cap.
Without warning her old apartment let out an eerie creak, Jessica jumped slightly, knocking over the glass of water she had nestled next to her. “Wonderful,” she snapped partly at the fact she had dumped her water and partly because she had actually jumped, “I’m trying to write horror and instead of spooking the reader out, I’m spooking myself out.” She got up, her feet sliding slightly on the hardwood floors. She set her book on the sofa and roamed around her apartment seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She shook her head in disgust. Had she really expected to find anything?
Jessica went back to the sofa, and reached for her notebook. There was one tiny problem. Her notebook wasn’t on the sofa…as she looked around the room she couldn’t see her notebook anywhere. She was fairly certain; no she was positive she had set it on the sofa. “Obviously someone moved it,” the words came from her mouth before she could stop them. She scoffed at herself, “and obviously I’m going crazy.”
The room creaked again and Jessica felt her heart start to race. She quickly started pacing through the rooms looking for her notebook and uneasily eyeing the shadows in the rooms, even though she knew nothing could be there. Vampire, werewolves, everything they were all a figment of people’s imaginations.
As she walked by the sofa again she felt something reach out and grab her shoulders, at that moment she felt a sense of vertigo as her head swirled. Without warning her feet seemed to fly out from under her and she went down with a loud shriek. She hit the floor hard.
~*~
With a low moan, Jessica’s eyes flickered open. “My head,” was the only coherent thought that went through her mind. The rest was swirls of pain, color, and other sensations. She rolled over and attempted to get up. Her movements sent a wave of pain through her. Her head was throbbing; she must have hit it when that thing grabbed her.
Something had grabbed her, right? She asked herself, she wasn’t making things up? Jessica bit her lip and looked around her warily. She got to her feet and crept through her apartment. All of the lights were off and she couldn’t remember turning them off herself.
She bumped into someone and let out a yelp. Jessica whirled around, heedless of the ache in her head, and tried to flee. A strong pale hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist. “Let me go,” She hissed and turned to her captor. She saw the cold emotionless eyes, the dark hair, and those teeth. “Vampire,” she whispered, her eyes widening, and she tugged at her arm desperately.
“What’s wrong my pet?” A deep sinister voice asked as she tried to escape.
“…You….you vampire!” She screamed at him, “Let go!” She didn’t know why she thought screaming would do anything, but she was panicking.
“Why? You’re already mine,” He placed emphasis on the last word.
Jessica mustered all the sting that she could and snarled on the vampire, “What do you mean yours? I belong to no one!”
“Why fight,” He continued ignoring her words of protest, “after all I’ve already bitten you…” He smirked and let go of her wrist.
She stopped her struggling as her wrist was freed, “you did what?” She asked the vampire in shock. She reached her hands up to her neck and shuddered as she felt her hands touch…
~*~
Jessica’s eyes shot open and she struggled to her feet. She raced toward the bathroom, her heart in her throat and head pounding. She stopped before the mirror and ran her hands over her neck, repeating the words, “please no….oh…please no,” over and over again. Her hands found nothing on her neck and her visual inspection showed no blood or bruises. She surveyed herself and flinched. Besides a nasty looking bump on the head she didn’t look too worse for wear.
As she returned to the safety of her sofa she tried to piece together what must have happened. She could have sworn something had grabbed her…why else would she have fallen. She looked at the floor and laughed. Her glass was lying tipped over, the water spread in a puddle on the floor, smeared in some places. She must have come around to fast. The water combined with an already slippery floor must have been the reason for her fall.
She judged by the sizeable lump on her head, that she must have been knocked out for a little bit. The vampire must have been a dream, her over active imagination getting the best of her because of how spooked she had bee, simple explanations for something that had frightened her so much.
Jessica reached down to pick up her glass and spotted something white sticking out from under the sofa, she tugged at it. “There’s my notebook, it was here all the time,” she smiled ruefully. “It was all my imagination and nothing more.” She looked at what she had written. Suddenly she reached out and tore the page from the notebook. She whirled around crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it into the trash.
“I don’t want to be a published writer that badly.” She told herself. After all why should you do something if you end up scaring yourself have to death? Jessica rubbed her head with a sigh. As she headed toward the kitchen to get an icepack, her hand moved from her head to the back of her neck, she pondered the events of the night as she ran her finger tips over the two puncture wounds…
Twizzler0171 - CoyoteQuote:
Kivo turned his head upwards to look at the sky. Sighing, he gazed sadly at the point where the moon should have been. Thick, dark clouds hovered menacingly above, hiding the light of the glowing orb. Just like the past few months. Again he would not be changing; again he would be stuck in human form. This wasn’t right; it wasn’t possible that it was from normal causes.
And to make matters worse, Kivarin was missing. The one person in the world he felt he absolutely had to take care of, gone without a trace. Kidnapped by the Vampires, no doubt, taken to wherever their Lair was.
He felt responsible for the whole thing. It was his fault she that she had ever turned into a Werecoyote. He was the one that had given her that fateful bite, one that would change her life forever. He could remember the day it had happened as clearly as if it was yesterday, even though it had happened ten years ago, on Halloween. The night when Ghosts roamed and Ghouls spooked, Witches flew upon their broomsticks, and other ‘spooks’ (as the trick-or-treating children so fondly called them) doing their things.
Surely that didn’t make a difference though? It must have been just a coincidence! But Werecoyotes were not common, rarer still did they bite. No, they were tricksters, and liked much more to play tricks on people. They only bit when deeply provoked, or when they had good cause… and Kivarin had been one of the provokers, other than that, Kivo had had no reason to bite.
With a deep sigh, Kivo started to walk. He didn’t know where he was headed, and he really didn’t care, just as long as he got somewhere. He would look for clues of where Kivaran could be. That was all he could do, until he learnt more. He kept his eyes open, searching about for anything that might be of help.
Before he knew it, he found himself somewhere. He had heard of it before, but had never really paid attention to the people that told him of it, as it usually was so far out of reach, this Indian Village. He was quite surprised to have found it; he must have been wandering and walking for longer than he had thought. Kivo looked around, a surprised look on his face, until he was motioned into one of the houses by the resident.
Kivo followed the person, walking inside until they reached the center of the house. It was then he realized it wasn’t exactly a house, but actually the place where they held Tribal Council. With a motion towards the center of the room, the person that had guided Kivo there left without a word. With a deep breath, he continued on, wondering why the Indian had taken him there.
“Greetings, Stranger. I am called O’kome.” The voice was spoken by an old Indian in the middle of the room He had long white hair carefully tied back in a braid. His gaze was soft as he looked upon Kivo, and the brown, almost gold eyes, seemed to hold some secret that they would not tell.
The Indian took a few steps towards Kivo, and then when he was close enough, took Kivo’s right palm in his hands. He examined them for awhile, and then paused for a second. After awhile, he finally spoke once more. “Your spirit guardian is the—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Kivo interrupted. “It is the Coyote.”
O’kome nodded as a solemn look crossed his face. “Yes. You have been told this before?”
Kivo shook his head, not really wanting to go into very much detail. “No, I haven’t, sir. I’ve known it for quite awhile though.”
The Indian nodded once more, staying silent as a thoughtful look crossed his face. His eyes flicked over Kivo slowly, examining him carefully, not missing a spot. Kivo shuddered involuntarily – for some reason, the gaze unnerved him.
“You are frightened of something,” O’kome commented. Without awaiting a response, he continued. “It is okay to be frightened, young one. Things happen to make us fear, but the best thing to know about it is how to control it. To control fear is to rightfully have it, but to let it loose is to abuse it.”
Kivo nodded. He waited for the Indian to say something more, to explain his reasoning, perhaps, but nothing came. With a nod O’kome turned away.
“Good bye, young Stranger. Perhaps we shall meet again sometime soon. Until then, remember my words.” With that said, O’kome walked slowly out of the room.
Kivo stood there for a second, unsure of what to do. He stood there, waiting for someone to come, or something to happen. When nothing did, however, he turned and left the way he came, and then continued on through the village. He was only slightly surprised when no more interruptions stopped him on his way.
Hours passed, and the village soon became just a memory in Kivo’s mind. He had no clue what time it was, but he knew that dawn should be arriving soon. The area surrounding him was just a desert, with no sign of change except for a large cave made out of a sand dune a mile or two to the right. The entrance was very small, not much could fit inside, but he could tell that it deepened farther in.
Kivo stopped, staring at it with a confused look on his face. As far as he knew, it hadn’t been there recently – of course, he hadn’t been that far out into the desert for many years. But it looked very deep, and there was something that wasn’t quite… natural about it. It wasn’t until a bat flew in that he understood what it was.
“A Vampires’ lair,” Kivo hissed out. That meant that Kivarin would be somewhere around here… but where? Surely she couldn’t be in the cave – the entrance was much too small for her to enter, in any of her forms. That meant that she was out of the cave, but where would she be hidden?
Unless… Maybe there was another entrance to the cave, cleverly hidden so that those that didn’t know where it was could not find it. Kivo’s grinned at the thought, and immediately began searching for anything that might indicate a hidden entrance or anything that might open one.
He found nothing, even after brushing his hand against every inch of the cave. With a deep sigh, he turned away. He kicked the sand as he went, angry and disappointed.
He was quite surprised when his foot hit something. Something that was hard and usually wouldn’t have been in a desert. He knelt down to begin uncovering it, and was quite surprised when he saw that he had kicked the handle of a wooden door, that had probably led to a cellar in times past.
With some work, he forced it open. A length of stairs greeted his eyes, and he hurried down them carefully and cautiously. He was as quiet as possible, for he did not know what things lurked in the shadows.
As the stairs ended, Kivo entered a large room. It was mostly empty from what he could see, all that was inside was a medium sized crate, and he didn’t dare look up to see what else there was.
Taking a deep breath, he neared the crate. It was of an old fashioned type, with a lot of spaces air could enter, so it was easy to see what it held. A Coyote gazed at him mournfully, maw open half way and her tongue hanging out. Her sides were thin, as if she had not had food for a couple of months.
“Kivarin,” Kivo whispered softly. They had caught her on the full moon, and had not let the light of the sun touch her. Evidently she was of more use to them in her coyote form, but why?
“Get out of here, boy, or I’ll let the coyote loose and she’ll rip you to shreds,” a voice growled from behind him.
Kivo turned around slowly, an idea forming in his head. He eyed the speaker carefully – for a Vampire, he looked almost normal. That would most likely mean he was immune to daylight. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers.
“Why, I bet that scrawny pup couldn’t even rip a piece of cheese to shreds, let alone me.” He said, his voice taunting. He kept his stature straight; as if he was really confident Kivarin could do no harm to him.
“We’ll see about that, boy,” the Vampire hissed in dissent. He reached towards his pocket and pulled out the keys, then without a further thought neared the crate to unlock it. The door fell open and Kivarin leaped out.
“Get ‘im, girl! He’ll be your only dinner for awhile now!” the Vampire yelled in glee. His eyes held a sickening gleam, and his fangs showed.
“Come on, this way! Follow me!” Kivo said, motioning to the coyote. He ran up the stairs quickly, not bothering to slow. Time was of the essence, and time he had none of.
As he forced open the door open and pulled himself through, he noticed that the clouds had gone and that the sun was rising. He had no chance to enjoy this fact, however, as the door was slammed closed, and another Vampire grinned up at him. Turning to face him, Kivo gasped in surprise.
It wasn’t often that such a thing happened, but it happened anyways. Every once in awhile, either the sun or moon paused in their orbit and let the other catch up slightly. It was this time that Werecoyotes feared most, because it was then they could not control themselves. They turned into half man, half beast, with the beasts mind controlling, and the man mind making it even more dangerous.
Already Kivo could feel the changes happening. Fur raced across his arms and legs, his nose elongated, turning into a snout. All changed until he looked much like Werewolves are thought to be like, only, a Coyote.
He snarled, and jumped towards the Vampire, going after the first ‘living’ thing he saw. He had no control over himself, it was as if he was caged, and could not get free. He panicked, trying to take over, yet he knew inside it would not work.
To control fear is to rightfully have it, but to let it loose is to abuse it.
The Indian’s words echoed through his head, and finally, he understood them. He calmed what part of the mind he could, and then, slowly, reached out into the animal part. Small bits at a time, he worked to control himself.
He landed on the door, his weight making it break. He heard his leg snap, and felt a trickle of something he really didn’t really want to know what it is run down his arm. He yelped a shrill yelp, and then snarled once more at the Vampire. But things were different now. Now he, Kivo, had control of himself, not the animal which was let loose only when this happened, the animal which had bit Kivarin.
The Vampire neared, unsure of what to do. His eyes showed fear, his pace was slow. Kivo waited, acting like an animal. If the Vampire knew what happened when this happened, it wouldn’t do any good to let him know that Kivo had control of himself.
When the Vampire was close enough, Kivo grabbed one of the wooden shards that had been made, and jabbed it through the Undead being. A relieving shriek of pain reached his ears, and within seconds, all that was left of the Vampire was a bunch of dust, already drifting away in the light wind.
Kivo grabbed another stake, and jerked himself free. He limped down the stairs once more, meeting the first Vampire half way down. With a shrill yelp, he lunged towards the Vampire, and staked him as well.
With that done, Kivo fell down, whining in pain. Kivarin ran towards him, an anxious look on her coyote face. She emitted a small growl of warning, and then yipped to make it clear she wanted him to go up.
Kivo nodded, and forced himself upwards. Had he not have been in the form he was, he wouldn’t have been able to do this. Slowly, Kivarin helped him up the stairs and once more into the light of day.
Everything had gone back to normal. Once more the moon had sped up, and was out of sight, the sun slowly rising. Everything was silent for a few moments as the two changed back into humans.
A noise was heard, and Kivo looked up. Kivarin had tensed, but, for some reason, Kivo knew the presence was not there to hurt them.
A coyote looked up at them, his brown, almost amber eyes, directed mainly at Kivo. They seemed to hold some secret they would not tell, but, they also held a happiness of some sort Kivo had never seen before. With what seemed to be a nod, the Coyote ran off.
“Of course. O’kome. An Indian word for Coyote…” Kivo said, laughing to himself. He hugged Kivarin lightly before continuing.
“Come on, you. Lets go home, we both need some looking after.”
Sock - ThomasQuote:
Sandra had always been afraid of the dark; afraid of the monsters that would kill her while she was sleeping.
The monsters she had always been so terrified of lived off of her fear.
Every night, just as the clock rung nine, the little girl would turn on her nightlight and crawl between the covers on her bed, and every night the animal, much like a wolf, much like a human, would watch, paws pressed to her glass window, waiting for her to fall into slumber. Every night, he couldn’t bring himself to enter her room.
Hours later the wolf would crawl away from the window and kill silently and quickly. Never a human. Always a deer, someone’s pet dog, or a bird. And then as the sun rose, a confused teenage boy would find himself standing in his backyard among the doghouse and garden, acne across his chin and shirt stained and ripped. He would sneak back into his bedroom, hide the gashed shirt in his underwear drawer, and fall into bed for a mere two hours of sleep before school.
“Thomas, get up. You’re going to miss class.”
Thomas Green looked up at his mother, who was glaring at him from above his bed. “I feel sick,” he groaned. She pulled back his covers, prepared to pull him out of bed.
“You’ve been nothing but a difficulty in the--” She stopped and stared soundlessly at his stomach. Several large gashes were crossing her son’s freckled stomach, red and swollen and gleaming. “…what…what happened…?”
He stared at them as well, looking surprised. “I don’t know. I can’t feel them. It was in my dream, but…” He glanced up at her. “I dreamed I was a werewolf. I was going to kill this little girl, but then I killed a dog instead,” he confessed. “And my shirt was torn.”
He didn’t mention the confused waking up in the backyard, nor the torn shirt hiding in his underwear drawer. Those were conversations for dates that he wasn’t convinced he was insane on.
“You’re staying home,” his mother replied. “I’ll be back with bandages. We’re going to the doctor.”
He fell back quickly into slumber.
Sandra folded her pink bed sheets back and bent to the floor, bending her head and whispering her prayers. She hoped that the monsters she feared would avoid her again; she hoped that she would make it through the night yet again. Everyone had always told her it was silly to believe in such things, but she never listened to them. She was convinced that her hoping, wishing, and praying were the only things keeping her alive.
Sandra climbed into bed, leaving her nightlight on as usual. Her short blonde hair was pulled away from her face, and she squeezed her blue eyes shut, waiting for the fluttering in her heart to stop so she could sleep peacefully. It was the same routine every night. She would say goodnight to her mother, her father, her sister, then dress, pray, and turn on her nightlight. For half an hour, she’d lie there, nearly shaking, trying to convince herself that there are no such things as monsters. There are no such things as monsters. There are no such things as monsters. She couldn’t calm the shaking in her stomach, no matter how many times she reassured herself, and eventually was too tired to even try to reassure herself and simply fell into an often interrupted slumber.
Thomas was out of bed again. However, he had no idea what was going on. His mind had been left behind in his house, and his body had taken over instead. The wolf version of Thomas, thick brown fur covering his face and chest, stood in front of Sandra’s window. The little girl had almost fallen asleep. He pressed his mug to the glass and stared in at her, counting her breaths and watching as they got slower.
Five minutes later - she was asleep. For another five, the wolf Thomas stood, still as a statue, trying to get up his nerve. The regular Thomas threatened to take over again and he felt himself weakening. Suddenly, he reached a clawed hand forward, trying to remove the glass in the window. He scratched frantically away at the glass. Minutes passed tensely as he tried his hardest to remove the glass without awaking anyone. He finally got it out after nearly ten minutes of frantic attempts to remove.
He threw himself through the window, and held himself still, and checked to make sure he hadn’t woken her up.
The next morning, there were two disappearances posted in the newspapers. One, a young girl terrified of monsters. The other, an acne-riddled, confused teenage boy.
Watericesage - QuarrelsQuote:
Simon slowly opened his eyes. He looked around, and with a jolt, he realized he is not in his own bed. Simon sat up and carefully inspected his surroundings. From the desolate sand dunes and the occasional cold, chilling breeze, he was certain he ended up in an isolated section of the Lost Desert. Simon held a paw up to his head in a futile attempt to calm his raging headache. What was he doing here? He matted down the fur between his ears and smoothed his tattered clothing. Many questions ran through his head as he did so.
What was he doing here? Why were his clothes tattered? Why does he have a headache? What had happened?
The Lupe was sifting through these questions, trying to answer them, be he couldn’t. He didn’t know why he was here, or why his clothes are tattered, or, more importantly, what had happened. Simon tried to think back, to yesterday’s events. Perhaps he can come to a conclusion if he started at the very beginning.
--
Simon sulked around the Sakhmet City, his head was drooping and his tail sagged to the floor. The afternoon was unbearably hot, sweat drenched his brow and plastered his fur against his skin. Lost Desert was a horrible place to take a vacation in, he missed the warm weather in Neopia Central, he missed its trees, the shade and the occasional breeze that would pass him by, as if stopping just for a second to say “Hello” then continue its plotted course to who-knows-where. But here in Sakhmet City, it’s just sand, sand and more sand. If it weren’t for a pair of sandals he bought at a little roadside stand, his paws would probably have been burnt off.
The heat wasn’t the only thing on Simon’s mind, in fact, he was holding a grudge against his younger sister, Sally. “She thinks she’s so great,” Simon muttered to himself quietly as he trudged towards the lake, “Just because she knows a little bit more about the history behind this place, sticks my face in it. Next time I beat Meuka in the battledome, I’ll rub her face in it. After all, I am the one who has the Iron Lupe Sword.” The Lupe continued to mutter things like this as he slowly made progress to a historical lake Sally told him to meet her at.
He could see Sally from far off, dressed in a frilly green dress, her bracelets clanged together as she waved to Simon. The ribbons in her hair danced as she bounced up and down.
“Come quick Simon! Look at this!” Sally shouted.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Simon said grudgingly.
“Well HURRY UP!”
Simon broke into a run, there was still some distance to go. When he got there, he
was panting heavily due to the brutal combination of running and heat.
“Do you know what happened at this lake?” Sally asked.
“No, are you going to tell me?” Simon replied.
“What? You mean you don’t know? Geez, you’re more illiterate than I thought!”
Simon wanted to shut her up at that moment, but decided against it, but it took all the willpower he had to not smack his little sister in the face.
“You know, instead of going to that battledome all day and fighting a giant booger, you should actually read some books… that is, if you can read.” Sally continued.
“Oh shut up you little brat.”
“Well excuse me for having half a brain cell.”
“Well if you’d like to keep it, you should shut up!”
Sally gave Simon a cold stare after this remark, then stopped bragging about her intelligence.
“Coltzan used to bathe in this lake. The waters are very cool here as the water comes underground from the Haunted Woods. That’s why they erected his Shrine near it, so his spirit could take a bath whenever it wanted to.
“Wait a minute, who’s Coltzan?”
“Well waddaya know, the dumb gets dumber.”
“We’re pretty close to the Haunted Woods right now, I have half a mind to drag you in there and leave you. Maybe you can have a nice little chat with Balthazar before he mauls you for trespassing on his property.”
“Gee, you actually know a famous person here in Neopia… or is it because you can’t beat him in the battledome?”
That remark really set the Elder Lupe off. Sally could see that, and quickly changed the subject. “Say, its getting late, lets head back to our NeoLodge.”
“Yeah, it’s getting late.” Simon managed to reply.
“Full moon tonight.”
“Yeah… I don’t give an asparagus.”
“You should… I remember you got beat by a Werelupe a week ago in the battledome. Who knows, you could turn to be a Werelupe yourself during a full moon.” Sally said jokingly.
Simon suddenly stopped.
“Look!” Simon pointed towards the eastern skies. “Ahhrrg! The moon had risen over the sandy dunes! Oh no! What’s happening!” Simon suddenly made a loud noise and jumped in front of Sally.
Sally let out a piercing scream as Simon fell over laughing. Sally realized she had made a fool of herself and blushed a deep red. Simon slowly got up, still giggling a bit, dusted himself off. Simon recognized the look on Sally’s face, furrowing brow plus smile means revenge in some shape or form. Simon prepared for whatever Sally threw at him.
“There’s a Spyder on your leg.” Sally said without emotion.
Simon was prepared for everything… except that. Everyone has a deep fear, something embarrassing that they don’t want the rest of the world to know, may it be the Dark, Chia Clowns or something else. Well, for Simon, it was Spyders. He was so scared of them, in fact, that he had pretended to be sick for the Meridell War when he had to fight Giant Spiders. He suddenly stopped laughing as he imagined a giant spyder crawling up his leg. Sally could see that he was hiding his terror, and to Sally, that was one of the things Neopoints can’t buy. It was priceless.
Now, it was Simon’s turn to see his little sister laughing. She was holding her stomach in, tears were making its ways out of her eyes, the whole shebang. Simon kept on watching her as she laughed… but suddenly… her smile left her face.
--
Simon realized what must have happened, he frantically looks about his surroundings. No Sally… He runs around a sand dune, calling out her name. No reply. Simon frantically searched for her, and there, at the edge of the lake, he recognized her frail, limp body.
Simon dashes towards her, with a horrible lurching in his stomach. He didn’t want to think about it, but horrible scenarios passed through his mind anyways.
When Simon reached her, he saw a bloody claw mark on her shoulder, her dress is no longer green, but tainted with blood. The ribbons in her hair were undone, but she was alive. The elder Lupe felt relived. He hoisted the younger sibling on to his sholders and walked back towards Sakhmet City, where a doctor could take care of Sally's wounds.
As he walked back towards Sakhmet City with Sally on his back, he made vows, to never hurt her, either emotionally or physically, ever again.
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