short vampire story

Question

i am setting a challenge to go with the recent explosion in teenage writing VAMPIRES what i want is for you to write a short vampire story upto 1200 words and no less than 900

good luck

jamcal

Answer 1

I think this tops out at 907 if you include the title.

Chatterhouse

Chatterhouse reformatory was built during the great depression.  It butted up against and actually was partially built into a limestone mountain full of crevices and caves.  Robert Chatterhouse had a vision when he designed the school for the morally corrupt and miscreant youth of Somerset, he wanted it to be a place of solitude so the students could reflect on their behaviors, learn a trade that would possibly keep them out of trouble in the outside world and still have enough barriers to be more of a penitentiary like setting.

There was one thing he didn’t count on…


Students arrived on busses and by carriage all heavily chaperoned by the professors and guards at Chatterhouse.  On their first day they would receive two grey drab uniforms and a pair of leather hard soled boots.  Each dormitory held forty students and each bunk had a foot locker for personal items that didn’t exist because the students were stripped of all personal possessions at their place of embarkment.  The foot lockers were stocked with sanitary items such as a toothbrush, paste, a brush and a blackish colored bar of lye soap.  Cleanliness is next to godliness was the mantra of the day.  Rick and Randy Sharp were kicked out of  “regular” school and wound up getting into trouble and sent here.  Being the scamps they were each had stowed their own personal items into their bunks, a sling shot and enough bb’s to take down a horse at close range.  Rick and Randy got up out of their bunks at lights out and wandered the halls of Chatterhouse unseen and unheard shuffling in bare feet on the smooth granite floors.  They made their way to the gym where physical activity was akin to physicality and they searched for something fun to do.

“Rick,  I swear I see a glowing pair of eyes over in that corner, “ Randy said.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, lay low it might be one of the guards making his rounds and your seeing the reflection in the glass of the door.”

The boys continued their adventure Randy still feeling a tad scared and uneasy as to what his surroundings contained.  The boys found an unmarked door and decided to check it out.  It creaked as they slowly opened it trying not to attract unwanted attention.  With the door fully open all they saw was darkness.  As neither of the boys had a light they closed the door and turned back toward the open floor of the gym.  A noise similar to the one they heard when they opened the door caused the boys to turn around only to see the door swinging back open, but this time a faint light was in the distance beyond the doorway, almost inviting….distant yet seemingly disenfranchised from the darkness that surrounded it.  Curious as curious can be the boys made a beeline for the doorway and once inside the door closed behind them and the faint light that they had seen had vanished.

Darkness…beads of sweat forming on brows…limbs showing the first signs of a tremble.

The boys spoke in a whisper.   They did not know why, but thought it appropriate.  

The light once again reappeared though closer this time.  Rick was the first to spot the oak lectern table that had to be hundreds of years old.  The small burning candle that they had seen from a distance now illuminated the old lectern and the book that laid on it.  They gingerly walked over to the table and saw a picture of a dragon with long fangs blood dripping from its scaly chin and blood ink text written below it.

As if the dragon himself was willing the boys to read the words they both looked like they were hypnotized and their eyes were entranced onto the page.

“Whispers of Aragon upon ye find thee words full of blood and truth.  This land and the ruins that lie beneath is the resting place of the undead.  Be forewarned that ye must not disturb the true inhabitants of this place.  They have been entombed in the catacombs of Chatterhouse and not to be intruded upon.”

Randy closed the book as he had seen enough and the warning was truly making him swoon.  He did not want to be passed out in this room or any other.  He turned and headed towards what he thought was the doorway they had came in from.  He felt his way along the walls, walls that felt like a mixture of wet earth and cotton.  Every so often a dimple would appear and his hand would plunge into a hole.  Rick was close behind and held onto Randy’s shirt.  Neither of the boys wished to be left behind.  Randy thought he was making progress, but the darkness had turned his head dizzy and he was going in the wrong direction.  After a few minutes of searching along the walls he found an oaken door and opened it thinking it was their escape.  Both boys fell headlong into a large pit landing on a wooden box shattering it.  They rolled off to the side and as their eyes began to adjust to the darkness a ring of torches lit surrounding the confines of the room.  

Randy and Rick never made it back to their bunks…

Somewhere in the distance a dragon roared, but the sounds of a hundred coffins opening went unheard.

Answer 2

PSYCOLOGY OF A VAMPIRE

I've always had a fascination for the liquid qualities of being human and have spent hours contemplating this.  I believe it began with my mother's milk.  Liquid, human secretions were nourishing.  Then there were my tears as she weaned me.  They tasted salty.  They still do.

I would get a boo boo on my finger and mommy would kiss it - tasting the blood.  When I discovered the snot in my nose, it was like being reborn.  Then there was Daddy's sweat.  I would jump into his arms every night after work and get as much of it on me as possible.  I never got that zest back until Middle School in the locker rooms.  The odor of sweat, athlete's foot and bleach drove me mad.

Girls enhanced it.  Their liquid eyes and the saliva on their tongues as they talked overwhelmed me.  If I could make one cry, I was in hog heaven.  I wanted to injure one so I could kiss her boo boo and taste the blood as she wept.  This became a habit.  They never knew what trap I had set to cause their injury and I couldn't be tied to any of it.

How can I be blamed for this?  From mother's milk to drinking blood, sweat and tears, I craved more.  The saliva kisses just weren't doing it for me any more.  

I found that vein in her neck.  Her name was Sally.  She was letting me give her a hickey and I just kept going.  She cried and spat and that drove me on.  I creamed my jeans as she died.

Liquid secretions became my life.  I was a well known specialist in the field of liver bile and stomach acids.  Now in my old age, I look back and wish I had become a mortician.  Maybe all of my victims wouldn't have had to die.  Too late now.  I'm dying with no pleasure but to drink my own blood.  It feels good.

Comments

I think it's around 330 wds. but I'll add to it.

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The first line pulled me in from the start.  I think "the liquid qualities of being human" was genious.  I think you could start a thread with just that phrase and come up with a bunch of interpretations.

Answer 3

A Beautiful Bite                                                                                          I waited my life for a real mysterious thing in my town. My town was very small and had 27 houses for 10,000 people. Somehow it suited my parents. So i was stuck their till graduation. The town had rain almost everyday.  I tried hinting my mom into moving to California. But my mom found out after a day of it. It was my first day of highschool. When i woke up in the morning it was a normal day sound. The wind hitting the trees and didnt make a sound at all. I did the morning routine. When i got outside my blue van was sitting in our parking lot. It shined as bright as the sun. I opened the door of the blue van then slammed it shut. I put my foot on the pedle and drove away from my yellow house. The highschool looked like a highschool i would go to. It had blue tiles on the floor and had beautiful decorations. I was impressed but i didnt show it. I went to the principals office to get my paperwork. They would look at me funny but i would remain calm but it did creap me out. Then i went to my first class, Biology. I sat by this dreamy guy. He was beautiful. His eyes were blue. His hair was just like a movie star and when he looked at me it was like he looked into my soul. We did our work silently but i had to talk to him so i went over and said hey. He said hey back but we got into a conversation very quickly. I wish i could have not said such dumb things but i was consentrating. The school day was over. I got into my car and drove away. Then CRASH! Before i knew it i was slammed into another guys truck and i was knocked out for at least an hour. When i awoke i was at my house. I think the doctor had my address or somthing. The next month was the same. But then he came up to me and asked me if i wanted to go out with him. Of course i said yes. His name was Joshua. His parents were devorsed and he wanted to find himself at a later time. I wanted to too! This was a perfect match and i was happy. But then 3 months later he told me he was a vampire. I remained calm but i was screaming inside. We knew we were in great love and he apoligized that he dated me for this long and didnt tell me. I accepted his love. Then he bite me and it didnt hurt cause the burning didnt affect me cause he bit me. I kissed him after cause i didnt need blood. The next year he got shot. I got the letter on Febuary 27,1999. And know i remember him as A Beautiful Bite

Comments

Ok gummybear, lets give out some positives and ignore any technical stuff.  I rather enjoyed your story.  You tried to be descriptive and you did follow a line of story telling that came to a thoughtful conclusion.  Keep working on the grammar.  I see talent that needs polishing.  You have good ideas for stories.  Keep writing!

Answer 4

PSYCHOLOGY 2

Yes.  I lived my life as a vampire.  I suckled at the necks of young women and men who wouldn't suckle mine.  It was just like my mother who died shortly after weaning me.  It came to me naturally.  I was never bitten by a bat or born into a vampire family.  None of my friends were blood seekers.  I just had this within me and it made me feel so alone.

That's how I feel now as I die.  Can I just have one more treat?  A nurse or orderly?  No.  They keep me separated from all of them.  I screamed "You all must fear death!"  Then I laughed because none of them could hear me in this secure cell.

They haven't beat me yet.  I still have my own blood to nourish me.  To hell with their pancakes and applesauce.  I want a real thrill.  Maybe if I bite off a piece of my forearm it will prove to them that I am who I say I am!

My right arm was delicious and I was afraid to start on the left one because they need to see your hand when they pass you your tray of food.  I don't eat anything but the meat, anyway.  The rest I leave for the rats who are fattening up just fine.

There's a jewelry store at 7th and 158th.  That's where Sheila worked.  She was what we called a "cutter".  She would take a blade to her arms and make scars.  People like me hung around there a lot.  We were hoping that she would give us some of the drippings.  She never did.  She would lord over us and show off her scars as she disposed of the towels she used to clean up her mess.  Sheila was my downfall.  If she hadn't been so damned tempting, she might still be alive.

I was back at my laboratory at the University when some police officers entered abruptly.  They caught me drinking the greenish bile,  Sheila was laying there with tubes in her like soda fountains have, so they arrested me for her murder.  I had no defense and here I sit in total solitude.

Somebody told me once that what goes around comes around.  I really hope that Sheila gets a good taste of a human feast the next time her spirit graces our world.  Too bad there won't be much left of me.  I've started devouring my left calf.  This is the ultimate high.

Mommy!?  Mommy!?  I'm getting dizzy.  Does it hurt to die?  I was licking the salty tears off of my leg.

Her voice was clear as a bell,  "No, Son.  Your place is with us on this very dark planet.  Come soon.  We miss you."

My life passed before me in an instant - from nursing to locker rooms to saliva, blood and tears.  I calmly let myself slip away.

Comments

I'm still at about 830 words, but this is done.  I don't want to dilute it.

Answer 5

This one is 911 words including the title.

Soul Food

Once we were many.  We were everywhere.  We walked among men like unseen shadows, brushing against them in alleyways and graveyards and all the dark places of the world.  They never noticed us.  

We were many.  Too many perhaps.  The very astute among men began to notice us.  They began to see a flicker from the corner of their eye.  They felt a chill as they walked down darkened lanes and through the hallowed graveyards of their ancestors.  They sensed, in the still of deepest night, that they were not alone in an empty room.  We sensed this new awareness in man and despaired.  If we are to feed we must go undetected.  Our meat is not the flesh of man but the emanations of his soul.  How are we to find his aura when he pulls it close around him in fear of the unknown.   How are we to sidle up next to them in the darkness when they stayed in the light.

There were few among men who could sense us, but many of us worried that they were only the beginning.   Already they began avoiding the places we thrived in.  The darkened alley became a place of rats and reprobates.  At least the reprobates were still edible.   The night time graveyard became a place only of tombstones.  No feeding to be had there, the dead don’t keep their souls close.  We began to wane.   We had to adapt.  Out of the deep, dark places we came, and into the boulevards and avenues.  Into the opera houses and theatres.  Into the churches and cathedrals.  Ahh, such feeding to be had in the places where man pours out his soul.  

We fed too well in these places of light and poetry and psalm.  We began to take on physical shape and many of us couldn’t handle it.  Many perished under the strain of having a corporeal form.  

Some simply stopped feeding and faded to nothing, puffing out of existence like candle flame blown out by a child.  Some were trapped, not yet fully formed but to tangible enough to lose the ability to move through all the walls and windows and doors of humanity.  They raged against their fate and wailed and crashed about their prisons frightening all who heard them for indeed, they now had a voice.  

Some of us drank in all we could get and embraced the bodies that we became.   We became so full that we could walk among man again for he could not tell us apart from himself.  We had become what we had fed upon. You are what you eat they say.   But we were not quite human, for as long as we kept feeding we would never age, never die.  We were immortal beyond what our former selves, for what is immortality when you have no body to enjoy it.  

It was a golden age for our people, and we were a people now.  We thrived in the daylight where before we had hidden in shadows.  We engaged in conversation where before we had shrunk from notice.  Yes, it was truly a golden age, but it wasn’t to last.  It’s harder to drink from the soul when your body has form.  Some withered.  Some died.  But some adapted.  The blood carries emanations of the soul, and a physical body can feed on blood.  

It started as simply a measure to survive, a little blood here and there to augment the emanations we already took.  But it was so sweet, so easy, so addictive.  Soon it was all we drank.  We were already adept at clouding men’s minds, they wouldn’t even realize they’d been bitten.  If we were careful only to feed at night they would think they’d simply had the most lovely, deep sleep.  If we were careful not to drink much then we could come back for more again and again.  But some got greedy.  Some drank too deeply.  Some drew attention to us.  Even the most foolish human will get suspicious when the bloodless bodies start piling up.

Our golden age was over.  The hunt was on and we found out our glorious, flawless bodies weren’t invulnerable.  Not so immortal after all.  One by one we were pursued, found, dispatched.  They called us devils and ghouls and vampires.  They said they were doing God’s work but we knew no god.  Some fought back and were tortured for it.  Some ran and were hunted down.  Some hid and survived.

 But they all perished in the end.  All but me.  The last of my kind.  Hiding once again in the shadows and the dark places of the world.  You may see me in an alleyway or in a fog shrouded graveyard.  Perhaps you’ll even feel my bite, though you’ll never remember it.  This careful existence makes me wonder if I’m any better than those trapped spirits howling at the edges of their confines and living off the fear of human souls.  But this is a new age.  An age of belief and disbelief where children play at being vampires and adults scoff at the notion of our  true nature.  One could hide in plain sight so easily here where no one really believes we’re real.  They’ve forgotten how to see that flicker in the corner of their eye, how to feel that presence in the empty chamber.  If only we were still many, this could be our second golden age.

Comments

Dragon:  A very good read.  I enjoyed the way you intertwined the mythical and the seeming reality of vampires if that make sense.  There are a couple of grammar issues such as in the last paragraph.  Reread it and you'll notice.  Great story, it kept me riveted.

Answer 6

I know nothing of my past or how I came to be where I am. The fact is I have been here for at least one hundred years. And yet, in all that time, my appearance had never changed. As far as I know, I am the only one of my kind. Then again, there had to have been more or there wouldn't be a name for us. Vampire. I like the way that just rolls off the tongue, like a drop of blood, sliding down a still warm throat. Oh, how I yearn for another taste of the nectar. How I desire to taste its thickness agains my tongue. But my wish may never be fulfilled, for there are no more bloodbearers in this town. In my early days (of the life that I remember), I was careless and took too much. I never dreamed of my source being depleted. There seemed to be so many of them. You may wonder why I do not just leave and find another place to feast. I cannot say I haven't tried. But some magic seems to be keeping me here, trapping me with my ill faith. So I sit alone. My time passing, neverchanging, neverending.
I often wonder what I've done to deserve this - apart from the obvious arrogance, but I want to go beyond that. There must be some meaning to this life, some reason that I ended up this way. Perhaps I was something else before, a human perhaps? I do not know if it is possible for humans to change into vampires. We do look similar. I look at my hands sometimes and try to imagine what they would look like if they haa blood flowing through their veins. It never lasts, though, because the thought only reminds me of my neverending thirst for something I shall never taste again. Even though decades had passed, I still remember clearly the sweet metallic taste, the overwhelming smell, the titillating texture, the slight variances from person to person. I am not sure how long I can live without it, but it seems that time will be forever, for the magic that is keeping me here is really – keeping me here. Oh, I did not want to die at first. I was convinced that I could trick the spell somehow. After all, I was the all powerful vampire. Nobody could touch me, nothing could stop me! Eventually, my confidence waned, but I still wasn't ready to declare defeat. If I couldn't have what I wanted then I would have none of it, nothing at all! I would escape by ceising to exist! That, however, turned out to be as futile a quest as the first. And so, I stare at my hands, briefly; not too long so I don't stir up the longing. And I wonder. Was I cursed with this life as a repremand for something I did? Or is this existance simply a misfortune, a bad deal of cards in a game I cannot win?
I've had a lot of time on my hands to figure out the answer, but it still eludes me. I am now questioning even my own existance. It is hard to tell in an environment that never changes if you are really alive or not. Maybe I am a character in a novel that served his part and has no more purpose. Perhaps the author did not, in his ignorance, write my ending and I was left in this empty world. I find that rather improbable, but having run out of any real explanations, I cannot entirely dismiss it either. Perhaps it is my sanity I should question, not my existance. Or maybe this is just a dream, a nightmare that seems neverneding, because it exists in its own timeframe. Perhaps there is still hope for me.
These little digressions do little to quench my thirst, though. Tomorrow I will try again to breach the line. Maybe something changes this time. One has to hope if one is to remain sane.
________
Okay, I tried to get up to 900, but the more I write, the more it loses, so I'm going to stop writing at 678. I know it's probably not what you wanted, but I just went with my current train of thoughts.

Comments

I like the idea of a philosophical vampire. Interesting tale.

Answer 7

 

I know it sounds a bit Twilighty, but I assure you it's not related. And again, I didn't make it to 900.

_______

 

Blue

Like most stories, mine too starts off quite innocent. I was sixteen, doing well in school, excited about the brother I was going to get and utterly, head over heels, in love with my boyfriend.

I think what attracted me to him was the fact that he stood out from the rest. There was something about him that made him different. In a good way.

I was lucky that he liked me back so we started dating. Things were going great, we were happy together.

That night was supposed to be a big thing. And boy was it ever. We had been dating for over a year and we decaded to take the next step. We picked out a cabin that we rented for the weekend. I told my parents that I was going with some firends, because they'd never let me go alone with him.

It was truly wonderful. He was so gentle and romantic, I didn't want it to ever end. Then, suddenly, everything changed. All I remember was a sharp pain in my neck and then I think I passed out. When I came to, I could hear an argument and I thought we were being attacked by a robber. I wanted to scream out Tom's name, but I didn't have the strength. Soon it became silent again.

I think I kept passing out, because my memory of that period is quite blurry. When I finally got the strength to sit up, I realized was alone. I went to find a mirror, expecting to see blood and bruising, even though I didn't feel pain anymore. Oddly, my skin was intact and there was only a small speck on my shoulder that could be blood. I licked it to make sure (disgusting, I know, but I was confused) and it tasted strangely appealing.

It wasn't until I left the cabin and returned to th city that I realized there was something definitely wrong with me. Every time I saw a person, I had an unrelenting desire to bite them. It confused me, but more than anything, it scared me, so I never went back to my home.

I ran, surprised at how easy it was, and I didn't stop until I was back at the cabin. Shaking, I fell to the ground and cried.

Once all my tears had dried up, I started to look for clues, to find out what happened to me and to Tom. Apart for the fact that he left in a hurry, I couldn't determine anything else.

Afraid to go back home, I roamed the woods for a while. It took me a month to come to terms with what I am. The truth is, I still didn't come to terms with it, but at least I stopped crying. I've always been a positive person, so I tried to look at the positive side of all this. I found out I healed very quickly and it appeared I was immortal.

The only thing I could ingest without throwing up was blood, so that's what I fed myself with. I stuck to animal blood because the idea of killing a human was unimaginable to me. I was having trouble with killing animals, too, but hunger forced me to compromise.

It has been 11 years now that I have avoided all contact with other people. I have traveled the world and found a nice forest, where I decided to finally settle down.

Yesterday, I thought I saw someone like me. He smelled more like me, at least and he lived away from people. Maybe I'll watch him for a while.