Kieyotie McDermott Sat Mar 10, 2012 3:25 amPick up where this leaves off. You can be one of the teens, their master, a witness, the beast, a puzzled law enforcement officer finding the remains, or Maxon.
I look forward to seeing where this goes.
Maxon edged to where he could look around the corner into the heavy rain. He swatted a mosquito on his neck and tried to see the....'thing' that had been following him. The rain and fog were so thick he couldn't see the opposite side of the street, much less the end of the block. It should be right...over...there! Something moved, crossing to this side of the street
Maxon ducked back into the alcove, swatting another mosquito gorging itself on his arm.
The alcove was twenty by twenty and almost as tall with a balcony running around the interior walls. There were doors recessed further in each wall. The doors looked to be heavy and solid, deeply carved with pictographs of the merchants behind them.
Maxon, cursed quietly. The mosquitoes were swarming him in here. He didn't realize they could fly in such awful weather. He pulled the pistol from his jeans and checked it over. He was going to empty it into that...whatever...if it followed him in here. This was the warehouse district and no one should notice the shots.
He wiped the rain and cold sweat from his forehead, wishing he'd just stayed home tonight. It had been a fucked evening.
He'd planned on just going to get something to sell this weekend, and maybe some stuff to use , too, of course.
Maxon was new to this strange foreign city. He had made a few contacts and was trying to learn to language and make a new life far away from his troubles in the states.
He thought it was good luck that his guy just had a shipment and had some extra to share. In fact, his contact already shared plenty with himself.
Maxon was quite happy, he'd be able to score plenty and screw the dealer out of extra.
That was until they guy pulled a gun and blew his own brains all over the goods.
Maxon checked the night again, waving bugs from his face, smashing another on his neck in a red smear. Seeing no movement he backed up and started trying doors, seeing if he could jimmy his way inside and away from whatever was out in the rain. He thought back to the run down little apartment where things started to go bad.
They had both been using and Maxon began feeling twitchy.
It was good stuff, and would sell quickly, but it was a new inport and was affecting him strangely. He got up and stumbled into the bathroom and started splashing water on his face trying to sober up enough to get his packages and get out.
His reflection kept shifting in the mirror, wavering until he focused and forced it to stop. More than once he thought he saw movement behind him, or the bones showing through his skin.
Then the dealer started screaming in the other room. Maxon jumped and sat on the toilet, bracing his feet on the door.
It sounded like someone was tearing the guy apart in there. He kept screaming about the bugs in his eyes. Then the shooting started in the other room, and the screaming was the louder.
Then it all stopped with a final shot.
Maxon sat there, shaking for a few minutes feeling the drugs race through him. The room around him kept "shifting', which was making him ill. He thought he heard laughter in the other room.
He threw up in the shower floor and was able to hear shouts outside the apartment and sirens in the distance.
He carefully stood up, drew his own pistol, and opened the door, expecting a bullet in the eye he peeked out with.
The way the door opened it blocked the view of the room until it was all the way open. But nothing was moving in the other room. Maxon called out and didn't get an answer, so he stepped out sweeping the room with the gun. He nearly shot a lamp when it seemed to melt and reform.
The room was splattered with blood. There were flies or something already swarming the remains.
The dealer, what was left of him, was laying on the floor between the couch and coffee table . He had shot himself several times in the arms, legs, stomach, and face.
Maxon could hear the neighbors yelling in the hall as they pounded on the door. You'd think that in a neighborhood like this a bunch of gunshots and screaming would make people avoid the place. Someone was shouting about the cops, too.
The dealer's blood and brains were all over everything that had been laid out on the table, but there were still a couple big baggies on the floor.
Maxon grabbed these and ran.
He'd fought his way through the gathering neighbors, shoving his automatic into one guy's face to get him to move. There were a surprising number of teens standing around with creepy-assed smiles.
Downstairs, he jumped in his old Germanish wreck and floored it.
Driving through the fog and drizzle just seemed to make the drugs in his system work even harder to confuse and disorient him. It was late enough that there weren't many other cars on the streets and he felt he was drifting towards the wharfs even though he couldn't say for sure where he was in the old city. The streets twisted and turned with no apparent pattern and strange shapes came out of the fog. More than once he nearly drove into a building as the street turned sharply. At one point he cruised through a street cafe, smashing several tables and sending chairs flying.
He thought he saw someone in the passenger seat from the corner of his eye, grinning at him with a mouthfull of bloody teeth. When he looked, someone stepped out in front of his speeding car.
The old coupe crunched and shuddered at it hit whoever it was. Dark red blood sprayed the windshield and the car rocked and jumped over the body.
Panicked, Maxon slapped on the brakes and the car's wheels locked. The whole car spun three times on the wet street. He slid up over the curb into the side of an ancient stone warehouse, totaling the ass-end of the car.
He forced open the door and stumbled out, looking around into the drifting fog to see what he'd hit and if there were any witnesses. He walked to the front of the car and saw an ungodly mess all over the hood. It looked like someone had thrown the inside of a cow all over his vehicle. The car was still sputtering, trying to die as it hissed water from the radiator.
Trying not to throw up, Maxon checked the baggies in his jacket pockets and adjusted the gun in the front of his jeans.
Knowing her should wipe the car down and run, he walked back to see who he'd hit.
There was plenty of gore, but he walked to the end of the trail and had not passed a body. Afraid he'd knocked the person onto the sidewalk, he searched around.
The car's noise must've covered it at first, but when he heard the low growling, Maxon realied that the hairs had been standing up on the back of his neck already.
He snatched the pistol from his waistband and turned a slow circle trying to locate the source of the noise.
The thing that came out of the fog let him know the drugs were still running rampant through him.
It was bigger than any dog he'd ever seen, almost the size of small bear. Maxon almost thought this was what he'd hit, but it moved too well as it prowled in and out of the fog around him, growling low in its chest.
He briefly wondered if he was laying on the drug dealer's floor having some kind of seizure. This creature could not be real.
Maxon started moving away, back towards the car, trying to focus, hoping the dog-thing was just part of the drug-haze nightmare.
Then he heard the laughter.
It was high pitched, like a group of children, but menacing. It sent chills through him.
Maybe it was just the foul weather, and fog, and darkness, but Maxon felt threatened by that laughing in the fog. Deep inside he knew he was in serious trouble right now.
He turned and began to run. He got up on the sidewalk and nearly ran over someone as they came out of the fog at him. It was a teenaged girl wearing a sleeveless grey dress that was just filthy. Her hair was long and lank in the wet air. She waved her arms at him and screamed.
Maxon stopped and stared. Her mouth was filled with elongated, pointy teeth. He had once caught a pike and her teeth were something like that. Her breath was death. She snapped at him as he detoured out across the street.
On the other sidewalk stood two scarecrow thin boys wearing t-shirts and jeans, they both hissed, showing their 'fangs' and started that eerie laughing again.
Maxon pointed the pistol at them and shot them both, knocking them back out of the way and continued to run. He hoped he hadn't shot two poor kids, but had a feeling that if they'd gotten ahold of him the car wreck would be the least of his worries.
Maxon was getting nervous, not seeing his car, afraid he'd missed it in the fog.
Then he heard the growling following him. It also sounded like the kids were chasing him now, too. Their laughter was coming closer and seemed to come from all around in the fog
.
When Maxon knew he'd passed his car without seeing it, he decided to leave it and find someplace to hide until morning. If the cops could print it, he'd be out of the country before they could find him anyway.
The drugs were really messing with him and he was afraid that whatever was happening might actually be real.
He had run until he was out of breath. Twice he'd tried to duck into an alley, only to find kids in there screaming and laughing, or hissing at him with those weird teeth.
Once he thought he'd seen the two he'd shot. He turned several times and had no idea where he was when he saw a massive building with a deep alcove. There was a light over one of the entrances showing the alcove was empty.
This is was where he stood when the laughing began just outside in the fog swirling by the entrance, drifting into the alcove.
He did not like standing in the light, even though it was muted by the thick, swirling fog, but at least he would be better able to see what was chasing him.
He looked over the pistol and swatted a group of mosquitoes off his arm. Then he smacked his neck, his hand coming away blood smeared. HE had back back under the light feeling very exposed.
The dog/bear-thing stuck its head around the corner, and Maxon reflexively shot at it. The bullet knocked a chunk of stone from the wall above its head.
The beast retreated and howled its displeasure.
He felt weight on his shirt front and saw a disembodied hand clutching at him.
Maxon screeched and smacked it away, but it turned into a swarm of mosquitoes that buzzed around his face, biting at him.
Maxon went into a frenzy, smacking at his face, neck, arms and chest.
He kept feeling hands grabbing at him and the laughter was all around him. The mosquitoes were getting worse. It seemed that for each one he killed four hundred more came in out of the fog.
He was panicking and waving his hands around, turning in a circle...and not watching the entry as a group of six teens came into the alcove.
Not until one of the girls laughed.
Maxon froze, fear overcoming his senses. He turned to their eerie grinning faces and noticed more above and around him on the balcony. They had to have come out of one of the doors up there.
He thought of threatening them with the gun and getting past them. The didn't seem to have weapons, just those creepy smiles with nightmare teeth.
Then the girl burst into a swarm of mosquitoes and attacked him. The other teens did the same, but he couldn't see anymore, having closed his eyes.
His screams were muted when the bugs flew into his mouth choking him.
His last rational thought was to use the pistol to end the nightmare.
Killing yourself in a dream always woke you up right?
Right???
This is a story starter based on the idea that I had that it would be more interesting for Vampires to turn into mosquitoes than bats.
I look forward to seeing where this goes.
Maxon edged to where he could look around the corner into the heavy rain. He swatted a mosquito on his neck and tried to see the....'thing' that had been following him. The rain and fog were so thick he couldn't see the opposite side of the street, much less the end of the block. It should be right...over...there! Something moved, crossing to this side of the street
Maxon ducked back into the alcove, swatting another mosquito gorging itself on his arm.
The alcove was twenty by twenty and almost as tall with a balcony running around the interior walls. There were doors recessed further in each wall. The doors looked to be heavy and solid, deeply carved with pictographs of the merchants behind them.
Maxon, cursed quietly. The mosquitoes were swarming him in here. He didn't realize they could fly in such awful weather. He pulled the pistol from his jeans and checked it over. He was going to empty it into that...whatever...if it followed him in here. This was the warehouse district and no one should notice the shots.
He wiped the rain and cold sweat from his forehead, wishing he'd just stayed home tonight. It had been a fucked evening.
He'd planned on just going to get something to sell this weekend, and maybe some stuff to use , too, of course.
Maxon was new to this strange foreign city. He had made a few contacts and was trying to learn to language and make a new life far away from his troubles in the states.
He thought it was good luck that his guy just had a shipment and had some extra to share. In fact, his contact already shared plenty with himself.
Maxon was quite happy, he'd be able to score plenty and screw the dealer out of extra.
That was until they guy pulled a gun and blew his own brains all over the goods.
Maxon checked the night again, waving bugs from his face, smashing another on his neck in a red smear. Seeing no movement he backed up and started trying doors, seeing if he could jimmy his way inside and away from whatever was out in the rain. He thought back to the run down little apartment where things started to go bad.
They had both been using and Maxon began feeling twitchy.
It was good stuff, and would sell quickly, but it was a new inport and was affecting him strangely. He got up and stumbled into the bathroom and started splashing water on his face trying to sober up enough to get his packages and get out.
His reflection kept shifting in the mirror, wavering until he focused and forced it to stop. More than once he thought he saw movement behind him, or the bones showing through his skin.
Then the dealer started screaming in the other room. Maxon jumped and sat on the toilet, bracing his feet on the door.
It sounded like someone was tearing the guy apart in there. He kept screaming about the bugs in his eyes. Then the shooting started in the other room, and the screaming was the louder.
Then it all stopped with a final shot.
Maxon sat there, shaking for a few minutes feeling the drugs race through him. The room around him kept "shifting', which was making him ill. He thought he heard laughter in the other room.
He threw up in the shower floor and was able to hear shouts outside the apartment and sirens in the distance.
He carefully stood up, drew his own pistol, and opened the door, expecting a bullet in the eye he peeked out with.
The way the door opened it blocked the view of the room until it was all the way open. But nothing was moving in the other room. Maxon called out and didn't get an answer, so he stepped out sweeping the room with the gun. He nearly shot a lamp when it seemed to melt and reform.
The room was splattered with blood. There were flies or something already swarming the remains.
The dealer, what was left of him, was laying on the floor between the couch and coffee table . He had shot himself several times in the arms, legs, stomach, and face.
Maxon could hear the neighbors yelling in the hall as they pounded on the door. You'd think that in a neighborhood like this a bunch of gunshots and screaming would make people avoid the place. Someone was shouting about the cops, too.
The dealer's blood and brains were all over everything that had been laid out on the table, but there were still a couple big baggies on the floor.
Maxon grabbed these and ran.
He'd fought his way through the gathering neighbors, shoving his automatic into one guy's face to get him to move. There were a surprising number of teens standing around with creepy-assed smiles.
Downstairs, he jumped in his old Germanish wreck and floored it.
Driving through the fog and drizzle just seemed to make the drugs in his system work even harder to confuse and disorient him. It was late enough that there weren't many other cars on the streets and he felt he was drifting towards the wharfs even though he couldn't say for sure where he was in the old city. The streets twisted and turned with no apparent pattern and strange shapes came out of the fog. More than once he nearly drove into a building as the street turned sharply. At one point he cruised through a street cafe, smashing several tables and sending chairs flying.
He thought he saw someone in the passenger seat from the corner of his eye, grinning at him with a mouthfull of bloody teeth. When he looked, someone stepped out in front of his speeding car.
The old coupe crunched and shuddered at it hit whoever it was. Dark red blood sprayed the windshield and the car rocked and jumped over the body.
Panicked, Maxon slapped on the brakes and the car's wheels locked. The whole car spun three times on the wet street. He slid up over the curb into the side of an ancient stone warehouse, totaling the ass-end of the car.
He forced open the door and stumbled out, looking around into the drifting fog to see what he'd hit and if there were any witnesses. He walked to the front of the car and saw an ungodly mess all over the hood. It looked like someone had thrown the inside of a cow all over his vehicle. The car was still sputtering, trying to die as it hissed water from the radiator.
Trying not to throw up, Maxon checked the baggies in his jacket pockets and adjusted the gun in the front of his jeans.
Knowing her should wipe the car down and run, he walked back to see who he'd hit.
There was plenty of gore, but he walked to the end of the trail and had not passed a body. Afraid he'd knocked the person onto the sidewalk, he searched around.
The car's noise must've covered it at first, but when he heard the low growling, Maxon realied that the hairs had been standing up on the back of his neck already.
He snatched the pistol from his waistband and turned a slow circle trying to locate the source of the noise.
The thing that came out of the fog let him know the drugs were still running rampant through him.
It was bigger than any dog he'd ever seen, almost the size of small bear. Maxon almost thought this was what he'd hit, but it moved too well as it prowled in and out of the fog around him, growling low in its chest.
He briefly wondered if he was laying on the drug dealer's floor having some kind of seizure. This creature could not be real.
Maxon started moving away, back towards the car, trying to focus, hoping the dog-thing was just part of the drug-haze nightmare.
Then he heard the laughter.
It was high pitched, like a group of children, but menacing. It sent chills through him.
Maybe it was just the foul weather, and fog, and darkness, but Maxon felt threatened by that laughing in the fog. Deep inside he knew he was in serious trouble right now.
He turned and began to run. He got up on the sidewalk and nearly ran over someone as they came out of the fog at him. It was a teenaged girl wearing a sleeveless grey dress that was just filthy. Her hair was long and lank in the wet air. She waved her arms at him and screamed.
Maxon stopped and stared. Her mouth was filled with elongated, pointy teeth. He had once caught a pike and her teeth were something like that. Her breath was death. She snapped at him as he detoured out across the street.
On the other sidewalk stood two scarecrow thin boys wearing t-shirts and jeans, they both hissed, showing their 'fangs' and started that eerie laughing again.
Maxon pointed the pistol at them and shot them both, knocking them back out of the way and continued to run. He hoped he hadn't shot two poor kids, but had a feeling that if they'd gotten ahold of him the car wreck would be the least of his worries.
Maxon was getting nervous, not seeing his car, afraid he'd missed it in the fog.
Then he heard the growling following him. It also sounded like the kids were chasing him now, too. Their laughter was coming closer and seemed to come from all around in the fog
.
When Maxon knew he'd passed his car without seeing it, he decided to leave it and find someplace to hide until morning. If the cops could print it, he'd be out of the country before they could find him anyway.
The drugs were really messing with him and he was afraid that whatever was happening might actually be real.
He had run until he was out of breath. Twice he'd tried to duck into an alley, only to find kids in there screaming and laughing, or hissing at him with those weird teeth.
Once he thought he'd seen the two he'd shot. He turned several times and had no idea where he was when he saw a massive building with a deep alcove. There was a light over one of the entrances showing the alcove was empty.
This is was where he stood when the laughing began just outside in the fog swirling by the entrance, drifting into the alcove.
He did not like standing in the light, even though it was muted by the thick, swirling fog, but at least he would be better able to see what was chasing him.
He looked over the pistol and swatted a group of mosquitoes off his arm. Then he smacked his neck, his hand coming away blood smeared. HE had back back under the light feeling very exposed.
The dog/bear-thing stuck its head around the corner, and Maxon reflexively shot at it. The bullet knocked a chunk of stone from the wall above its head.
The beast retreated and howled its displeasure.
He felt weight on his shirt front and saw a disembodied hand clutching at him.
Maxon screeched and smacked it away, but it turned into a swarm of mosquitoes that buzzed around his face, biting at him.
Maxon went into a frenzy, smacking at his face, neck, arms and chest.
He kept feeling hands grabbing at him and the laughter was all around him. The mosquitoes were getting worse. It seemed that for each one he killed four hundred more came in out of the fog.
He was panicking and waving his hands around, turning in a circle...and not watching the entry as a group of six teens came into the alcove.
Not until one of the girls laughed.
Maxon froze, fear overcoming his senses. He turned to their eerie grinning faces and noticed more above and around him on the balcony. They had to have come out of one of the doors up there.
He thought of threatening them with the gun and getting past them. The didn't seem to have weapons, just those creepy smiles with nightmare teeth.
Then the girl burst into a swarm of mosquitoes and attacked him. The other teens did the same, but he couldn't see anymore, having closed his eyes.
His screams were muted when the bugs flew into his mouth choking him.
His last rational thought was to use the pistol to end the nightmare.
Killing yourself in a dream always woke you up right?
Right???
This is a story starter based on the idea that I had that it would be more interesting for Vampires to turn into mosquitoes than bats.
