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Cecily lay in the waterfall. The darkness enveloped her as she slowly transformed from human to monster. Her heart, beating faster, and then slower, her eyes, bleeding as she stopped breathing, precious life, slipping from her very being. She could feel her face, shifting, twitching as it transformed. She found herself hungry, but she was unable to move. She cried out in pain, something in all her years she had never done. The wind blew through her jet black hair, now stained with blood and dirt. She could almost feel her soul escape from her body as she fell back, letting the water run over her, cleaning the blood and the dirt from her.
Her eyes snapped open. She couldn’t see. Her eyes were covered in water, falling from above. The water fall she had stumbled upon wasn’t a large one, it was simply a small, light water fall. She sat up slowly, standing at the same pace. She smirked and started pressing on to the nearest town. She looked up to the sky. It was deep in the night. Perfect. She was starved. She walked into the small village, and found all the people to be dead. She wondered, “Who could have done this?” She shrugged and kept walking. She heard twigs snapping behind her. A little girl stepped out from behind the trees. She knew this would not be hard. The girl was crying, babbling on about how the man in the trench coat killed everyone. Cecily looked at her with non genuine remorse. In her sly British accent, she calmly said, “Well, then, I suppose you,” her face morphing into a disgusting creatures’ face, “want to join them.” The girl screamed and started running. But Cecily was fast, thin and agile. She jumped tree to tree, leading the girl back to the village. The girl gripped the doll she was holding and hid behind a barrel. Just then, the village Holy man raced out in front of Cecily, holding a rather large wooden cross and a valve of Holy water. “Be gone fowl beast! The power of Christ compels you! Leave this place at once!” She hissed and raced out of the village, jumping from tree to tree once more, sick to her stomach from hunger.
After a long while of searching, she came across a shack, barley held up by the foundation it sat on. Unpleasant to look at, but shelter, none the less. She walked up to the door, fidgeting in her torn large dress. She tried to straighten herself up a bit so that someone would let her in. She knocked. She heard no response. At this time, surely someone is home, she thought to herself. She kicked the door down and shoved past the chairs that were in front of the doorway. She looked around. She heard a loud thud. It made her jump and let out a small scream. She smelled the air. “Blood, I assume. Good. I am famished.” She raced to the smell. A man with no color to his face, looking beaten and bloodied, wearing barley any clothes that weren’t ripped, lay on the floor, motionless. Another dead one. She sighed. She looked around. A rat was scampering around on the floor and had knocked over a shovel. She had solved one mystery, the thud. But who was killing all the people? She followed the scent of more blood. She followed it down past a small kitchen into a quaint room. The room was a little bed room, a vanity in the corner, with a large four post bed. There was a bureau at the end of the bed, and the walls were stained with blood. The room was dark and smelled awful. She covered her nose and gagged. There was a form under the covers. She snuck over to the side of the bed, and yanked the covers off. A woman, with a petrified look on her face, lay in the bed, motionless. Cecily moved the woman’s hair out of her face, revealing two large bite marks. “So, another vampire is doing the killing,” she said walking out of the shack. He still could have been there. She realized this quickly and with herself being a newborn, her defenses were low, so the vampire could sense competition and kill her. She didn’t want that. She raced out of the shack and continued her hunt.
Daylight was coming soon. She could sense it. She had to find somewhere to sleep. She found a quiet and petite town with a small inn sitting on the edge of town. She could see the sun coming up. She lunged behind the counter, shoved the inn keeper out of the way, grabbed a key, and ran off. She ran down the hall and shut her door. She locked it and drew the curtains closed, undressed and hopped into the bed. She pulled the blanket over herself and attempted to fall to sleep, anxious for night. Normally, she never had trouble sleeping anytime of day, but she was in so much pain and was so hungry, she was having problems adjusting to her new sleep schedule. The hay in the mattress was poking her in every which way she turned. She pulled the blanket off of herself and slid out of bed. She had nothing on and was absolutely exhausted. She opened the curtains. The sun was high in the sky and an immense amount of light poured in. She screamed and felt her hair. It had burst into flames. She looked around and found a pail of water and dumped it on her head. There went her drinking water. She sighed. She was never going to get to sleep, or adjust to her new sleep schedule. She tossed and turned in her bed until her body finally crashed.
The next night, she felt wonderful. No more pain, no more intense fear poisoning her judgment. But pangs of hunger ripped apart her insides as she got ready. She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. No reflection. She screamed, for Cecily was incredibly vain. “My face! Where is my beautiful face?” she threw her a hairbrush at the mirror and screamed once more. She felt her face morph again. “I must be hideous. Probably for the better.” She washed her face and brushed her hair. She then went out of the bathroom and grabbed her Victorian lace dress. It was completely black, the skirt was gathered on the top layer, with the bottom layer straight and very long. It had a corset up the back and lace running up the front sides. It had long sleeves with a lacey layer up by the elbow. Both layers of the sleeves billowed out and it had a ruffled neck. She put on and laced up the dress, grabbed a lacey umbrella, and left the room.
- by sydniistarr |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 11/28/2011 |
- Skip
Comments (2 Comments)
- EarthChild Eco-Friendly - 05/04/2012
- It's interesting, but it needs work. Some of the details need work. Like the village seen it sounds like the 13th century, but her outfit sound like victorian era.
- Report As Spam
- audreyrox24 - 11/30/2011
- This is really good, Sophie smile
- Report As Spam