View Full Version : Roses of Blood

09-10-2005, 11:03
Here is the promised Vampire short-story, this is the opening part and thus, it might be a bit longer than the following ones.

Anyhow, I bid thee a good read.

Part I

“Can you see them, these tears rolling down your cheeks, can you see them in this dark mirror on the floor, can you see them fall into your own blood, each and every one, falling silently before disappearing in the thick, crimson liquid?”

The woman’s voice was smooth and sensual, yet cold, whispering the words into his ear with a cruel undertone whilst he could see the puddle of blood growing on the wooden floor.

He felt strange, the blood flowing from his neck felt warm against his cooling skin, and, for every second, he went number, he had already lost the feeling in his arms and legs, and yet, he could feel every touch of the woman as she ran her fingers across his back and caressed his cheek with the pale, smooth skin of her hand.

“Do you want to be immortal like me? Do you want to live forever, being a king, a ruler over life and death at my side?”

Her soft whisper made his heart yearn for that of which she spoke, every part of him wanted to answer yes, but he couldn’t, he hardly had any power left to draw breath, everything started to go dark, the colours faded away as he looked into the eyes of the beautiful woman who punctured his neck with her teeth, those black, deep eyes that any man would drown in.

Even though he had not said anything, she knew what he would answer, once again, she bent down towards the holes in his neck, her black hair falling across her pale face as she drank some more of his blood, she then raised her head, and, blood still dripping from her lips, she kissed him.

As the blood touched his lips, he could feel his power returning to him, every drop that passed over his lips, every second the crimson liquid flowing past his fangs and down his craving throat, satisfying the burning hunger.

Dropping the empty corpse to the ground, he wiped some blood from his pale chin with his hand whilst licking his lips and fingers clean.

It had been a long time since he had been granted the Blood kiss by the countess of Schwartzgold, an estate near the unmarked borders of Sylvania, long known for its legends and stories about ghosts and silent knights in black armour, an unnerving place, but, it still held farmers and even a small city had grown up on its land.
But now, there was no longer a countess of Schwartzgold, she had disappeared, he smiled at the thought.
He could still remember her eyes, burning with hatred as he had rammed her very own sword through her chest, and it still felt as if though she could come back any second and crave her revenge, but he had made sure that it would never happen, the very same night, a giant fire had been seen rising from the courtyard of the Schwartzgold estate, and then, he himself had scattered her ashes upon the winds, a little bit every day for seven days, and the wind had never blown the same way two days in a row.

He heard a twig snap and threw himself towards the trees from where he heard the sound, his black cloak and long hair swirling behind him, and, upon tearing a bush in half with his hands, he could see a terrified young woman sitting in the blood spattered snow, her dress torn asunder and tears falling down her cheeks, in satisfying his hunger, he had almost forgotten about the woman that had been robbed and almost raped by his meal.

“You are lucky I have just eaten my dear, otherwise, I might well have killed you right here on the spot, but not tonight.
Call me merciful, call me a monster, to be honest, I do not care what you petty mortals call me or think of me… my lady”

He smirked as she crawled up to his feet and started to kiss his boots, hulking forth words of gratitude and joy that he did not care about.
But then, she looked up and her eyes caught his, this girl was something different than the countless of women he had killed with either passion or boredom, it was something within her, but he could not put his finger on it, he was… curious, something he had not been for quite some time now.
She whispered a final “thank you” with a voice so thin that it almost disappeared into the silence of the woods before she collapsed in the muddy snow.

He bent down and touched her cheek, caressing it, entranced by this woman, he lifted her from the cold ground and carried her to the place where he had left his coach, in the moonlight, it looked just as if she was one of the beautiful marble statues in the halls of Schwartzgold, who was she?

As he sat in the coach with her lying next to him with her head in his knee, he stroked her hair, for every time the coach shook, for every tree that passed by the windows, he felt more and more curious about this woman.

Looking out of the window, he could see silent winds leap by it, gathering around the coach, weaving a cloud of mist, this did not feel good, he knew the winds of magic when he saw them, but he only had vague memories of the ones who could draw mist from them, someone, or something, did not want him to return to Schwartzgold with the girl.

Hideous Loon
09-10-2005, 22:08
Nice story, especially concerning the small cliffhanger at the end. And say what you will, but a story with a treason, a love story and a bad guy is never a bad story.

(BTW: Trevligt att se att du skyltar med att du är svensk...)

10-10-2005, 17:09
It's Mills n' Boon! :evilgrin:
Seriously, I like it so far, an effective stab at the gothic Sylvanian styling that GW usually drives to cheese and campery - pretty dark and romantic, so it'd be good to see some more.

10-10-2005, 23:48
I like it. Hopefully we'll get to read more soon.

11-10-2005, 20:07
Part II

As he once again looked through the window, he could no longer see the trees of the forest, only tall shadows rushed through the swirling mist, letting out a deep sigh, he leaned back, still stroking the hair of the young woman, searching his memories for an answer to how this mist could have been forged of the winds of magic.

Closing his eyes, he fell into the pool of memories and he could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper as if he had thrown himself into a black see of tears, forever reminding of both sorrow and joy, forever changing whilst staying the same, forever brushing against the shores of the soul.

A long time ago, ha had travelled a lot, until he had realised how much the hunger could affect his position on a ship or in a trade caravan, but, he had managed to go as far as both Cathay and Ulthuan, he held memories of the court of the Emperor of Cathay, of the life in the port cities of Ulthuan, and how both monks and elves alike had failed to see him for what he really was.
He was still amused by the thought, but that was not the case he had returned to these memories, no, somewhere in those memories, there where the sea mages of the elves, weaving mist like this from the winds of magic, but what would one of them be doing here, it had to be something else.

Something scratched on the dark door and he was pulled back from his memories and it felt as if though someone had pulled him out of a very deep slumber.
As he leaned forward and looked through the window, a slow wail rose from the mist, moaning, as if though it was the wind itself that sang a sad song.
And suddenly, something else than the shifting shadows of trees passed by the window, a face, a white face framed in long black hair, and the two eyes, burning, then… nothing, nothing but the trees passing by the window, the fog lifted and suddenly, he could see the fields on the borders of Schwartzgold.

Once again, he leaned backwards, stroking the hair of the woman whilst the coach kept on rocking from once side to the other in a slow, calm pace.