Author's Note: Why does always do something stupid to the layout of my writing?? ARGH!!
I have no intention to bring the OCs here back at any point in the story. This is just background information, setting the scene, if you will. For some absurd reason I wanted to start the ball rolling in England. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Oh, well. If you don't like this prologue, I suppose once I have sufficient chapters i can do away with it. Let me know.
Also, any criticisms or things-I-can-do-to-make-it-better (constructive criticisms? That would've been too to-the-point), please let me know. I always like to better my writing.
Now, on with the story! Err... or... prologue... whatever...
Clouds are not an uncommon situation in the majority of England. In fact, you'd be hard pressed to find more than seven days of sunshine, in any given place, in an entire year. This was precisely the reason Charlotte Reed had chosen varying areas of England to reside in over the past century-and-a-half.
She cast an eye, dark as obsidian (and no less beautiful), out of the window of her train compartment and glanced momentarily into the air. It was beginning to rain, with no signs of sun in the immediate future. That suited her perfectly, and, satisfied, she allowed her gaze to fall upon the young girl who sat, trembling slightly, on the seat opposite her.
The train rocked almost imperceptibly as it tore through the countryside.
"Why, what's the matter, child?" There was a distinct note of mockery in Charlotte's velvet-like voice, and she knew it.
"I- I..." The girl, who couldn't possibly have been older than fourteen years, appeared to be unsure of quite how to verbalise her fears. It caused Charlotte a great, if slightly sadistic, pleasure to see. "Am I- Are you going to... kill... me?"
"Oh, absolutely." The girl recoiled, probably from the lack of concern in Charlotte's voice. Charlotte couldn't care less.
"But... Why? Why me?" Her eyes were wide, though not, Charlotte noted with some surprise, with fear. She seemed intrigued. A reaction quite unexpected.
"Because, girl, I am a vampire." She replied, matter-of-factly, "Which means I need blood to survive. And you smelled nice. Almost chocolatey."
The girl responded with a nervous laugh.
"Do you think I'm joking?"
It had been exactly one week since her encounter with that terrifying, horribly beautiful woman. Somehow, unbelievably, she had managed to escape, though not without some scars to remember her near-death-experience by.
Only, now... she was different. It was a tiny change, but she could feel it nonetheless. She was stronger, faster, more beautiful although her features were the same. She was pale, she couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. And she thirsted for blood. She had become like that woman, a vampire, and this truth both repulsed and thrilled her simultaneously. She was indestructible. She was immortal.
But that thirst... that terrible, burning thirst, threatening to consume her if she dared deny herself blood. She had to quench that thirst.
Without control of herself, without realising, she rampaged. She killed and drank from almost anybody who was unfortunate enough to cross her path.
And then, inevitably, she was apprehended.