Han the Vampire

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a small snippet of a larger novel I intend on writing. Fortunately, the segment can stand alone. Hopefully, you can comment on the piece. Being new to writing comments on style would be very much accepted. Oh yeah, and i wrote this when i was about 15, see don't be too judgmental, thanks
Oh yeah, the title is CRAP!

Submitted: February 26, 2007

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Submitted: February 26, 2007

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Han the Vamp

Sergeant Joshua Rosling felt a presence circling him, just outside of his vision, watching him out of the dark. He breathed into his cupped hands and rubbed them together, trying to create some warmth. As he watched his breath rise up above his head in swirling clouds, the moon shone at him. The moon light was leaving distorted shadows on the forest floor. Shadows were being cast by overhanging trees and leaves, occasionally a nocturnal bird would fly overhead sending a shadow over the ground and causing small rodents to scatter in all directions. A shiver ran up his spine as he felt that presence watching him again.

‘Come on Josh.’ He encouraged himself, trying to sink into his collar. A cold breeze was trying to find its way down his back. ‘Don’t go and get the heebie-jeebies now, just another twenty minutes and you can go and enjoy a nice warm mug o’ cocoa.’ He did not even know why he was out here, in this God forsaken forest. The orders had been clear enough, take your squad deeper into the forest, keep a guard and monitor any unusual behaviour. The strange thing about these orders was that there was nothing to report, not even that the eighty year old great grandmother had gone and got drunk sarge’. Damn near kill ‘erself she did sarge. There was not one blasted soul that lived here. It was deserted.

There it was again, that presence watching him, calculating. He could feel it in his feet and in his hands. His hand were rolling and unrolling again into fists. He would not have even noticed if he had not made white nail marks in the fat part of the hand at the base of the thumb. Josh stood up on his toes, trying to add a couple of inches to his short frame, looking out into the dark forest. His dark blue cloak rubbed against the tree he was leaning against. The elemental insignia was woven in the centre of his cloak in a bright gold. The same insignia was engraved in to his leather armour, one on each of his shin guards and on both of his wrist guards. Four were placed on his leather shorts, one on the front and back of each thigh. His shorts were thick, made to protect the thighs and the male genitalia. The insignia was once again engraved on the top of his helmet and the largest was placed in the square of his back. On the front of his body armour, was a six-pack and chest muscles, complete with dark leather nipples. He was numbly aware that the cold hard steel of his sword was pressing against his thighs. He grasped the hilt of the sword, drawing some relief and comfort from the leather grip. He had become adept in using his short sword and had always kept the blade sharp. Never polish your sword to a shine he remembered telling one of his squad. Shines in the dark like a bugger, will bring the whole of the forest down on you if you ain’t careful.

A fog had crept out of the forest and lay floating just above the scrub floor. It swirled around his thick leather boots as he wiggled his toes. The fog flowed around the base of trees and shrubs, casting a shadow of its own. An eerie glow was coming from it, as if somehow it was unnatural, as if someone put it there to hide them.

The feeling of being watched returned again, stronger this time, closer. Something was coming towards him, something that he did not want to meet, not even in the middle of a summer’s day. A twig snapped on the ground as something heavy stood on it. Josh grasped his sword tighter in his right hand; its comforting power had gone. A twig snapped again louder this time, getting closer to where he was standing. He should be able to see, a badger or a fox was rummaging around, that’s all it was. But why could he not see it then? The fog on the floor had become thicker, rising up to his knees and glowing. His pupils collapsed to the size of pinheads and he could not move.

A figure was emerging from the foggy wood. It was short but still taller than him. It seemed human from its outline, slim and graceful. He tried to cry out but just warm air rushed out from between his teeth. His grip faltered on his sword and his arm fell to his side. He was going to die. His heart was thumping in his ears and the smell of raw onions was climbing up into his nostrils. The figure came into view and paused; tilting its head onto its side, it studied him. It was a woman. Her hair was cut short and spiked up around her ears. Her eyes were shining in the night air. No, they were glowing from within. Her dark red lips curled up at the corners, smiling a smile that had hypnotised many of her victims. She stood with a straight back; her breasts stood firm protruding from her deep red shirt. Her pale neck was bare. Her slight curves were silhouetted in the moonlight. Her longs legs stood apart, leaning on one hip. Her trousers were black. She liked black and red, they were the only colours that suited her and they made her look sexy. She was old, very old, although she looked barely seventeen.

Josh was struck dumb. This women was just standing there, she was not cold even though she was wearing a thin red shirt, made to highlight her figure, and tight black denim trousers. Her feet were bare yet there was no discomfort in her face, what he saw there scared him the most. She stepped forward again, coming towards him. She was beautiful, so beautiful, but she looked hungry, craving something to quench that hunger. He tried to move back, away from this beautiful woman but was stopped by the tree he had been leaning against. Her left foot came down on a thorn and the thorn was blunted and crushed beneath her bare step. She kept on coming.

He was hypnotised, staring not blinking at the woman, though he knows she can’t be a woman. She raised her arms towards him, still walking as her smile widen, showing her gleaming white teeth. Her incisors looked sharp, as if he could cut himself on them. All the colour flushed out of his body as she embraced him. She held his body against hers.

‘This won’t hurt a bit,’ whispered in his ears. He could feel her smooth lips kissing his neck, goose bumps stood up on all of his body. How had she got so close to him? How am I in her arms? He had no power against her, her beauty was overpowering and his body was responding to her touch. And there was something about her that drove a stake of terror deep into his heart. He could feel her chest rising and falling on his with each of her breaths. He felt a twinge of pain in his neck where she had been caressing him. Had she bitten him? He no longer cared; she can do what she wants with me. Just don’t let go, don’t stop your spell. His blood was pouring out of his neck now; the woman was lapping it up like milk. His body was becoming cold and his blood still poured, a little less strongly now. How had he been so scared, I was made to feed her, to keep her beautiful.

He collapsed on the ground as his body went limp. The woman fell on top of him, making sucking noises at his neck, greedily gulping down his blood. He was staring up at the moon when it all went dark, but she did not stop until every last drop of he precious life-giving liquid had gone. Then she left him where he lay, as he was smiling, knowing that he had kept the woman that wore red and black beautiful. The fog went with her.


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