Vampire Diaries - Hunter's day.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

The third installment of the Vampire Diaries brings us to a young journalist and her eagerness for the truth. But, maybe she should have remembered this: one day is for the hunted, the other for the hunter... and we never know which will happen first.

This was the era of information, they said. So, previous generations remained in the shadows of ignorance? Yes, because the ignorant was that who ignored… who did not possess the means to reach a certain portion of knowledge; to whom information, data was denied, either by force or circumstance. Differently from what happened to somebody who lacked the mental skills to understand a subject. And yet, you could remain ignorant exactly because you didn’t understand the world around you; until the moment epiphany shone upon your fogged intellect and voila! Then maybe a less political expression should be used here: ignorance varied from plain stupidity or dumbness.

And information… such an odd word. In a row… in formation. In sequence; in line. In rank, in order. Was that it? A series of organized, neatly put together ideas, sounds, images, scents, impressions, feelings, etc and whatever about anything or everything sent straight to your brain to be processed, analyzed, digested, only so it could be burped back into the outside world via words, music, paintings, declarations of war? Then again, those before us had it too. So why are we the era of information? Because most of afore mentioned data was now systemized in an exogenous way? You were left to take your conclusions from the massive attack of sensorial stimulus provided by all sorts of communication means, but the big problem was… sitting tidy on your sofa/chair with a can of beer/soda held firmly on your hand – maybe clicking your fingers away if your technological poison of choice was of another brand – simply watching instead of actually thinking was so much easier.

What happened to a muscle when it stayed for way too long without being used? It shrank into itself, atrophied. What if you stopped everything in your world for long enough to imagine yourself as a whole big, bleeding red muscle? What if you just thought about this era of information where the world is at your hands’ reach; no major effort needed in order for you to exercise the main part of your intellect? You’d come to this: goodbye lively looking boy and girl. And hello, Mr. & Miss. Mummy.

Then maybe, just maybe folks from another age were not completely cast in shadows. On one hand – judging from what was said so far – that could be affirmed, though not totally believed in. Why? Because back on other times not everybody had access to knowledge, or at least, the paths you walked to get your hands there were not so easily spread. Okay, now here was a denial of the past bunch of shit. Yes and no.

If only a minor portion amidst a social group retained power over information, said minority would sooner or later overrule the others. It was simple, really: let yourself live without knowing and you’re giving a free pass for somebody else to lower their proverbial undies and shit on your head. Best/worst part? If they said a couple of pretty words while doing it, you’d find all very cool and awesome. So, earlier in our history, people could barely read, much less fully understand what the heck was happening around them… still, some did, and were brave enough to stand against the all powerful tyrants.

On the other hand – and perhaps due to the fact it wasn’t easily acquired – knowledge was treasured, while these days it seemed like there’s been an inversion and as long as you looked cute, hot, bad ass or whatever, a verbal diarrhea could fall out of your mouth… nobody would give a damn. If published on the internet, chances were you’d even become famous.

It was actually a bit of an irony that, from the people who graduated with her, Yasmin Oster chose the path of journalism, since on the outside she’d always been one of those with all the attitude and almost zero content. However, she knew better than to sit idly and spend a live letting others making up her mind for her… if nothing else, then Yasmin would be the one to uncover and divulge this complex little maze called information.

The bonus was she managed to keep the attitude. Some of it, anyway.

For the past years, Mina had lost count on how many times she visited this place, but specially in the four months prior. The young woman guessed she’d become a regular of sorts; maybe they’d give her a special button or badge after the sixth month anniversary? Greta – one of the senior librarians, and yes, the woman had been named after Greta Lovisa Gustafson, a.k.a. Greta Garbo… Yasmin asked a few weeks ago during a nostalgic talk about cinema and WWII – already knew the young woman would be spending hours there, but Yasmin liked stopping by and say hello to the old lady whenever she had the chance. Not the case tonight, probably Greta’s shift was over by then.

Aside from the daily – sometimes weekly – assignments for the L.A. Sun, Yasmin Oster had been working on her own, though with the unofficial knowledge of a friend and editor, on a series of bizarre murderers assaulting the city’s night at a seemingly sporadic timetable. What did they have in common? The victims were not merely killed, they were butchered; they were all women and – if her source from earlier was hot – a pile of ashes was found on the latest crime scene: a prostitute was found at an alley, five blocks from her usual spot couple of nights ago. Not many details had been released, but from what they knew the brutality with which she was slain could most certainly be related to at least three other victims. However, these ‘ashes’ were a new twist.

She couldn’t tell for sure whether it was the same person or not and since the woman wasn’t a cop, she lacked on some of the resources the guys in blue had at their disposal. But Mina was a persistent little thing and as such, she spread the books on cults, rituals, black magic, you name it over one of the tables… it was a wild guess, a shot in the dark, still, a connection would have to come out. This guy – she’d formed an idea it had to be a male – was methodic, that much you could tell. Understanding the workings and reasoning for a ritual was a way to see things (or try to) through his sick eyes. Mina had other theories constructed already, but tonight she decided to concentrate on this particular point… and no, she wasn’t egocentric enough to believe she’d outsmart the police in finding his identity, but damn her if she wouldn’t have an exposé ready – or decently updated – on this case by the time they caught the asshole.

However, a blur to the corner of her eye distracted the young woman for the briefest of seconds. This was the freak’s lair… the part of the library dedicated to all things weird, uncommon, wacky, you got the idea; perhaps that was why Yasmin was under the impression she saw something? Not something, rather someone. And although this area wouldn’t necessarily remind her of this special someone, it could cause unusual perceptions of the world around her. Wasn’t there a theory about objects holding energy (positive and negative) then dissipating it in the form of very concrete actions? So, she could totally be seeing stuff because she was surrounded by creepy stuff. Alright. Now Yasmin was scaring herself. Shaking her head and discreetly pulling off her mobile, she typed a text message to a certain brunette (and coincidentally the object of her current visual debate)…

'how can you be everywhere I go?
miss you'

A minute later, the bluish light from the small phone's display washed over Mina's face, but the message did nothing to soothe the young woman's nerves.

'romantic, aren't we?
hurry home, I'm cooking you dinner tonight'

The same ethereal movement from earlier caught her field of vision again, but less than a second later the mystery would be solved. No time to run, enough time to understand her fate though "oh, fuck."


Submitted: September 17, 2008

© Copyright 2021 red. All rights reserved.

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