Note to the reader: The characters in this story are not mine, nor are the
themes or even the writing style. You see, I have tried to combine the
writing styles of great authors, and have borrowed both the great themes
and ideas from the very reality that surrounds us. If any of this appears
to look like something you have read before, then I apologize. But it
cannot be helped. Is anything in this world truly ours? Now, I cannot
possibly give this piece of writing a rating, unless rating it T for the
truth or rated L for life. There is but one thing in this story that truly
belongs to me, and that is Rebecca. She is the window to my soul, and
ironically, she is what humanity is truly all about. Yet, she is cursed
forever to not be human. She is one of the undead, one of the damned, on of
those creatures that strikes either fear or absolute fascination into our
hearts.
Now, I'm not trying to sound any better or wiser then you are. Far from it. I'm trying to open your eyes as a reader to a different kind of fan fiction. I've noticed that ever since I started reading fan fiction (sometime at the end of the year 2001), I haven't been reading many books. Nothing has really interested me. I've been too wrapped up in my obsession with two particular TV shows, and if you are reading this, I am guessing you are also the same way. However, being in an honors English class, this is unacceptable to me. If I ever am to learn and to grow wiser, I must read the literature of great authors. Luckily for me, a man by the name of Charles Dickens inspired me. His book A Tale of Two Cities was so moving and so enlightening, that I decided that I must write something that moves people as well. However, I am not Charles Dickens. I am just a 15 year old girl obsessed with a particular vampire slayer's world of fantasy. I simply hope that in reading this, you get a taste of something a little different then your usual fan fiction.
Oh yeah, the point of view of this story will be mostly of Rebecca's, but for the first few chapters and the last, it will be of Joss. The only catch is that this takes place in the year 2072, and that Joss has never spoken to me, nor will ever. Also, the personality of this man is of a different person. Oh, bear with the old fashioned writing style you shall see some of the time. I just feel that the way people wrote in the 1700s and 1800s was so beautiful.
By the way, do not mind the other stories I have written. They are of the same style as most of the fan fiction I read, and believe it or not, most of them are comedies! Please don't think this piece of writing will be boring. It may seem that way at the beginning, but eventually, I will get into the actual story. Oh, and I hope for it to have some humor, as well as drama, romance, and angst. Just give it a chance.
Okay, you may begin…
The sounds of children whining to go home while their mothers ordered groceries, of grown men ruthlessly arguing over who would win the football game, of teenage girls arguing over which Hollywood star was the cutest while their boyfriends had a belching contest and talked about their sex lives; all this could be heard throughout the city, yet I did not listen to it.
It was the year two thousand and seventy two. I was walking through the city, pondering over stories I recall my grandfather telling me about the world, how nothing had really changed. Our youth, still cruel, still, ignorant, still so obsessed the media and their appearances. According to him, they hadn't changed a bit. America had been in the midst of a war with the Middle East 70 years ago, much like the war we are fighting with them today. Most of the technology hadn't changed since his time, for all our inventors, scientists, and doctors are working to improve our weapons instead of our lives. Like the day and age of my grandfather, Cancer and Aids were killing millions a year, for we gave up searching for their cures. In short, it was a time so depressing and unproductive, that in a matter of years, life on earth would cease to exist.
I was miserable with the way things were in the world and I wanted to make a difference. No, I needed to make a difference! Something, anything to move these people, to get them to realize how insignificant their petty lives truly were. You see, I was a writer (well a struggling one, if you will), and my dream in life was to write something so meaningful, so powerful, so unbelievably touching, that the entire world would realize how blind we truly were (and still are), and finally make some changes we should have made hundreds of years ago. However, I knew dreams were farfetched (especially mine), so I had a more realistic goal. To enlighten but one individual, one single life, one single soul. That, I believe is the greatest gift of all. Ironically, this person that I sought turned out to be myself.
This was about three years ago. I had been walking throughout the city, thinking those thoughts, when I saw the queerest little shop. It appeared that the person inside was selling all sorts of meat to customers, but in person! I had never went to one of those old fashioned shops, run by human instead of machine. Curiosity overcame me as I found myself walking towards the door.
As I entered the shop, I found the bright blue sky that had seemed so beautiful this morning change to a brilliant shade of purple. Thinking nothing of it, I looked around the shop. The walls were very pale and old, like the color of worn bones. Their were little chambers that glowed with a cold, bright light, as if they were almost holy, containing some of the reddest and juiciest meat I had ever seen. But as I neared closer to the meat, I noticed that what I had been admiring wasn't really meat at all. No, it was thick, very thick, but not like meat. More like blood.
Startled and horrified, I found myself nearing the door with great speed. However, before I could leave the store, I saw the most disturbing site of my life. A girl, not looking a day over 16, was guzzling one of those bags of blood, the concoction smeared all over her face. I was frozen with shock. I had never seen anything like it.
I feel as if I should describe her. She was about 5ft4, possibly a quarter of an inch taller, with thick, dark brown hair. It was in loose curls, sort of like the ones that old movie child star Shirley temple used to have. Her nose had a slight bump and some light freckles. She was not a heavy person, yet she was certainly no stick. She had some of the most beautiful curves I had ever seen. Very voluptuous, I think would be a good choice of words. In my opinion, she was beautiful.
But all I could do was stand there watching her. And then it happened. She looked at me with eyes, so complacent, so lost, so pained, that I couldn't help but sympathize. No longer ignoring my presence, she came over to me and motioned me to follow her upstairs.
Well, I being a proper gentleman (and English at that), shook my head in defiance and began to walk to the door of the shop once more. But as I grabbed the door handle, I was frozen again. And not from shock. I literally could not move my legs! The girl sighed in relief. "Relief from what?," I wondered. "What could a teenage girl need relief from?"
As I thought those thoughts, she looked directly in my eyes and moved her lips, forming with them but one simple statement. "From life."
My heart sunk into my stomach. At that moment, I knew there was a reason for me being there. Even if I had left that shop at that exact moment, her eyes would have forever danced in my head. A gorgeous gold, they were, with forest green surrounding the outer part of her iris. A person could get lost in those eyes. But they didn't seem of this world. So much wiser than me, than anyone in this forsaken world. Yet they seemed so sad and far away. I was in love with her eyes.
The movement of my legs came back, but I did not leave the store. I felt compelled to follow her, to walk up those stairs and discover whatever made her appear so lost.
The stairway was almost as dark as her spirit, creaking with age and misery. When we finally reached the top of the stairs, she took my hand and opened a door.
The room was the size of a honeymoon suite in a luxury hotel, yet almost entirely bare. As a matter of fact, all that was in it were two wooden chairs and a small table, very plain but very beautiful. Surrounding us were walls the color of honey.
Her hand motioned me to sit down in one of the chairs, so I did. She then sat down in the chair right across from me, and for a minute, we were silent. For that minute, she just stared into my eyes, like she was reading my soul. Well, she was. No joke. I knew, I could feel her. Funny thing is that I think she wanted me to know what she was doing.
In about a minute, she was done. However, it wasn't over.
"How did that make you feel," she asked.
It sounded more like a statement then a question, but I felt compelled to answer.
"Honestly, it made me feel invaded. Completely naked and exposed; helpless to do anything about it."
"Like I was raping you, but not of your actual clothes, but your thoughts and very soul."
A freezing chill came over and for a second, it felt as if my heart stopped.
"Yes, yes, exactly like that. Ho, how do you do that?"
A tear fell from those precious eyes and she sighed. But not in relief. It sounded like a sharp knife had stabbed her in the heart, and I was the one twisting it.
"I've been able to do that for 70 years."
My jaw was wide open. "How is it humanly possible for this girl who looked not a day older then 16 have lived for 70 years?
"I've only mastered the gift for the past 65 years. However, I've possessed it for a total of 87."
I wanted to believe that she was insane, that she was not in her right mind. I truly wanted her to be lying. But I looked into her eyes once more, and saw that she indeed was 87 years old, maybe not in appearance, but in spirit.
"I am telling you the truth, and I also know that you do not doubt me. This is good. You are exactly who I have been looking for."
"Me?" I asked, "Why me?"
"Because you are the only one with enough depth, the only one who would believe me, the only one who could use what I am about to tell you for good, not for evil."
I did not answer, I simply nodded. She began to mutter words that were foreign to my native tongue, words that sounded older than time itself.
A bright green light surrounded us, and her face began to change. Her pupils overtook her entire eye, and there was a crash.
I panicked, and went to run out of the store. However, when I got downstairs and opened the door, I noticed that everything was still. A child who had jumped to catch a ball was frozen in midair, fingers outstretched, ball right in front of them. A middle aged woman's face was red with rage, her hand stuck on the face of a man. A bird who had been flying to it's nest was planted right next to it, having not quite made it.
"Are you ready to come back," she asked.
"Wha, what did you do?!?!?"
"I froze time. You see, what I am going to tell you may take days, weeks, or even months to complete."
I looked at her, a puzzled expression planted on my face.
"Now, I have no food for you, nor do I have water. All I have is blood. I froze time so you would not get ill and die from lack of nourishment."
"So in other words, the inside of my body is frozen?"
"In a way, yes. You can never age or grow ill when time is standing still. Just like me."
"And what you did before, when you read my mind and looked into my soul. Do you realize that with your powers, you could control our very world?"
All of a sudden, we're back in the room we were in before sitting in those same chairs, and she is staring at me with a dead serious expression on her face.
"I did. And I hope I never have to experience anything as painful ever again!"
I looked at her as if she was mad.
"Why on earth wouldn't you want to control the world? You could do so much good! You could take humanity out of ignorance once and for all!"
She just stared at me, a dead serious expression still on her face.
"Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
All I could hear were the questions forming in my head. Who was she? What was she? What happened to her that took away her felicity, her happiness, her smile? When did she loose it? Why did she resist power? And most importantly, was there anyway for me to bring her smile back?
"Would you like me to read your thoughts," she asked.
"If only to answer my questions, then yes. But that's it."
She nodded in agreement, and stared into my eyes once more. But this time, it only took her a second.
"My name is Rebecca. I am a vampire. Now, do you know what that is?"
"I've read about them in books of fiction, but I never thought they were real. Oh, and by the way, thank you for asking me instead of reading me."
"I will only read your mind if absolutely necessary. Oh, and I cannot blame you for doubting our existence. Even when there were millions of us, most humans were blind. And no human believes in vampires anymore."
"But why not? And why are you not feeding off of me now? Why eat bags of animal blood?"
"Humans do not believe in vampires because they are ignorant. There is another reason, but one I cannot tell you until you hear my story. Also, my reason for not feeding off of humanity is because I feel for it. I have a soul."
I looked at her in astonishment.
"Yes, you thought right. Vampires don't have souls. Out of life's entire existence, there have only been three exceptions to the rules, one being myself. Now, I can't help but sense your confusion. You see, I am an exception to nearly every aspect to a vampire. I also am a witch, a mind reader, and a prophet. However, I only can see the future in my dreams. That is why I no longer sleep."
I had no doubt that I was meant to hear this woman (that's right, woman, not girl) tell me her story. She was my world. One I was dying to see and explore.
"Would you like me to begin?"
I nodded, and took out my very old fashioned tape recorder. I thought this would make her smile. She didn't smile physically, but it did slightly amuse her. I saw a bright twinkle in her eyes. But it only lasted for a second.
"Sorry, but this is nothing like the movie Interview With the Vampire. You shall run out of tape before a quarter of my story is complete."
"Well, then I shall have to record the story in my mind, won't I?"
"Yes, yes I suppose you will. Now, before I begin, I need to ask you this, and answer honestly. Can you handle what I'm about to tell you?"
I nodded 'yes' to her, even though in my heart I secretly doubted I could. But thankfully, she took my word for it and didn't read me. Instead, she took a photograph out of her pocket. It was blank. She didn't tell me why she was taking out a blank photo. All I saw was her kiss it softly and then it disappeared forever.
She took a deep breath, even though she had no need to breath, and began to tell me a story that would change my outlook on liberty, life, happiness, and love for all eternity.
The rest of my story (other then the last chapter) will be through the point of view of Rebecca. Now, I can almost guarantee you that you will not hear more from this story until the summertime. I wanted to post the very beginning to see how people responded to it. I will re post it when I am ready to update it on a regular basis. Please read it and review. I am very open to feedback and constructive criticism. However, I have absolutely NO tolerance for "flames," as you call them. I believe writing a flame review is one of the most disgusting and hypocritical things a reader can possibly do. There's a difference between pointing out mistakes and areas that need improvement, rather then just telling a person their story is terrible (or that it sucks, or that you hate it).
Anyone who reads this, understand that flames can discourage authors and result in them never writing again. Be careful with what you say, because as an author, I know I take reviews seriously. And I AM SERIOUS about what I just said.
Now, I'm not trying to sound any better or wiser then you are. Far from it. I'm trying to open your eyes as a reader to a different kind of fan fiction. I've noticed that ever since I started reading fan fiction (sometime at the end of the year 2001), I haven't been reading many books. Nothing has really interested me. I've been too wrapped up in my obsession with two particular TV shows, and if you are reading this, I am guessing you are also the same way. However, being in an honors English class, this is unacceptable to me. If I ever am to learn and to grow wiser, I must read the literature of great authors. Luckily for me, a man by the name of Charles Dickens inspired me. His book A Tale of Two Cities was so moving and so enlightening, that I decided that I must write something that moves people as well. However, I am not Charles Dickens. I am just a 15 year old girl obsessed with a particular vampire slayer's world of fantasy. I simply hope that in reading this, you get a taste of something a little different then your usual fan fiction.
Oh yeah, the point of view of this story will be mostly of Rebecca's, but for the first few chapters and the last, it will be of Joss. The only catch is that this takes place in the year 2072, and that Joss has never spoken to me, nor will ever. Also, the personality of this man is of a different person. Oh, bear with the old fashioned writing style you shall see some of the time. I just feel that the way people wrote in the 1700s and 1800s was so beautiful.
By the way, do not mind the other stories I have written. They are of the same style as most of the fan fiction I read, and believe it or not, most of them are comedies! Please don't think this piece of writing will be boring. It may seem that way at the beginning, but eventually, I will get into the actual story. Oh, and I hope for it to have some humor, as well as drama, romance, and angst. Just give it a chance.
Okay, you may begin…
The sounds of children whining to go home while their mothers ordered groceries, of grown men ruthlessly arguing over who would win the football game, of teenage girls arguing over which Hollywood star was the cutest while their boyfriends had a belching contest and talked about their sex lives; all this could be heard throughout the city, yet I did not listen to it.
It was the year two thousand and seventy two. I was walking through the city, pondering over stories I recall my grandfather telling me about the world, how nothing had really changed. Our youth, still cruel, still, ignorant, still so obsessed the media and their appearances. According to him, they hadn't changed a bit. America had been in the midst of a war with the Middle East 70 years ago, much like the war we are fighting with them today. Most of the technology hadn't changed since his time, for all our inventors, scientists, and doctors are working to improve our weapons instead of our lives. Like the day and age of my grandfather, Cancer and Aids were killing millions a year, for we gave up searching for their cures. In short, it was a time so depressing and unproductive, that in a matter of years, life on earth would cease to exist.
I was miserable with the way things were in the world and I wanted to make a difference. No, I needed to make a difference! Something, anything to move these people, to get them to realize how insignificant their petty lives truly were. You see, I was a writer (well a struggling one, if you will), and my dream in life was to write something so meaningful, so powerful, so unbelievably touching, that the entire world would realize how blind we truly were (and still are), and finally make some changes we should have made hundreds of years ago. However, I knew dreams were farfetched (especially mine), so I had a more realistic goal. To enlighten but one individual, one single life, one single soul. That, I believe is the greatest gift of all. Ironically, this person that I sought turned out to be myself.
This was about three years ago. I had been walking throughout the city, thinking those thoughts, when I saw the queerest little shop. It appeared that the person inside was selling all sorts of meat to customers, but in person! I had never went to one of those old fashioned shops, run by human instead of machine. Curiosity overcame me as I found myself walking towards the door.
As I entered the shop, I found the bright blue sky that had seemed so beautiful this morning change to a brilliant shade of purple. Thinking nothing of it, I looked around the shop. The walls were very pale and old, like the color of worn bones. Their were little chambers that glowed with a cold, bright light, as if they were almost holy, containing some of the reddest and juiciest meat I had ever seen. But as I neared closer to the meat, I noticed that what I had been admiring wasn't really meat at all. No, it was thick, very thick, but not like meat. More like blood.
Startled and horrified, I found myself nearing the door with great speed. However, before I could leave the store, I saw the most disturbing site of my life. A girl, not looking a day over 16, was guzzling one of those bags of blood, the concoction smeared all over her face. I was frozen with shock. I had never seen anything like it.
I feel as if I should describe her. She was about 5ft4, possibly a quarter of an inch taller, with thick, dark brown hair. It was in loose curls, sort of like the ones that old movie child star Shirley temple used to have. Her nose had a slight bump and some light freckles. She was not a heavy person, yet she was certainly no stick. She had some of the most beautiful curves I had ever seen. Very voluptuous, I think would be a good choice of words. In my opinion, she was beautiful.
But all I could do was stand there watching her. And then it happened. She looked at me with eyes, so complacent, so lost, so pained, that I couldn't help but sympathize. No longer ignoring my presence, she came over to me and motioned me to follow her upstairs.
Well, I being a proper gentleman (and English at that), shook my head in defiance and began to walk to the door of the shop once more. But as I grabbed the door handle, I was frozen again. And not from shock. I literally could not move my legs! The girl sighed in relief. "Relief from what?," I wondered. "What could a teenage girl need relief from?"
As I thought those thoughts, she looked directly in my eyes and moved her lips, forming with them but one simple statement. "From life."
My heart sunk into my stomach. At that moment, I knew there was a reason for me being there. Even if I had left that shop at that exact moment, her eyes would have forever danced in my head. A gorgeous gold, they were, with forest green surrounding the outer part of her iris. A person could get lost in those eyes. But they didn't seem of this world. So much wiser than me, than anyone in this forsaken world. Yet they seemed so sad and far away. I was in love with her eyes.
The movement of my legs came back, but I did not leave the store. I felt compelled to follow her, to walk up those stairs and discover whatever made her appear so lost.
The stairway was almost as dark as her spirit, creaking with age and misery. When we finally reached the top of the stairs, she took my hand and opened a door.
The room was the size of a honeymoon suite in a luxury hotel, yet almost entirely bare. As a matter of fact, all that was in it were two wooden chairs and a small table, very plain but very beautiful. Surrounding us were walls the color of honey.
Her hand motioned me to sit down in one of the chairs, so I did. She then sat down in the chair right across from me, and for a minute, we were silent. For that minute, she just stared into my eyes, like she was reading my soul. Well, she was. No joke. I knew, I could feel her. Funny thing is that I think she wanted me to know what she was doing.
In about a minute, she was done. However, it wasn't over.
"How did that make you feel," she asked.
It sounded more like a statement then a question, but I felt compelled to answer.
"Honestly, it made me feel invaded. Completely naked and exposed; helpless to do anything about it."
"Like I was raping you, but not of your actual clothes, but your thoughts and very soul."
A freezing chill came over and for a second, it felt as if my heart stopped.
"Yes, yes, exactly like that. Ho, how do you do that?"
A tear fell from those precious eyes and she sighed. But not in relief. It sounded like a sharp knife had stabbed her in the heart, and I was the one twisting it.
"I've been able to do that for 70 years."
My jaw was wide open. "How is it humanly possible for this girl who looked not a day older then 16 have lived for 70 years?
"I've only mastered the gift for the past 65 years. However, I've possessed it for a total of 87."
I wanted to believe that she was insane, that she was not in her right mind. I truly wanted her to be lying. But I looked into her eyes once more, and saw that she indeed was 87 years old, maybe not in appearance, but in spirit.
"I am telling you the truth, and I also know that you do not doubt me. This is good. You are exactly who I have been looking for."
"Me?" I asked, "Why me?"
"Because you are the only one with enough depth, the only one who would believe me, the only one who could use what I am about to tell you for good, not for evil."
I did not answer, I simply nodded. She began to mutter words that were foreign to my native tongue, words that sounded older than time itself.
A bright green light surrounded us, and her face began to change. Her pupils overtook her entire eye, and there was a crash.
I panicked, and went to run out of the store. However, when I got downstairs and opened the door, I noticed that everything was still. A child who had jumped to catch a ball was frozen in midair, fingers outstretched, ball right in front of them. A middle aged woman's face was red with rage, her hand stuck on the face of a man. A bird who had been flying to it's nest was planted right next to it, having not quite made it.
"Are you ready to come back," she asked.
"Wha, what did you do?!?!?"
"I froze time. You see, what I am going to tell you may take days, weeks, or even months to complete."
I looked at her, a puzzled expression planted on my face.
"Now, I have no food for you, nor do I have water. All I have is blood. I froze time so you would not get ill and die from lack of nourishment."
"So in other words, the inside of my body is frozen?"
"In a way, yes. You can never age or grow ill when time is standing still. Just like me."
"And what you did before, when you read my mind and looked into my soul. Do you realize that with your powers, you could control our very world?"
All of a sudden, we're back in the room we were in before sitting in those same chairs, and she is staring at me with a dead serious expression on her face.
"I did. And I hope I never have to experience anything as painful ever again!"
I looked at her as if she was mad.
"Why on earth wouldn't you want to control the world? You could do so much good! You could take humanity out of ignorance once and for all!"
She just stared at me, a dead serious expression still on her face.
"Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
All I could hear were the questions forming in my head. Who was she? What was she? What happened to her that took away her felicity, her happiness, her smile? When did she loose it? Why did she resist power? And most importantly, was there anyway for me to bring her smile back?
"Would you like me to read your thoughts," she asked.
"If only to answer my questions, then yes. But that's it."
She nodded in agreement, and stared into my eyes once more. But this time, it only took her a second.
"My name is Rebecca. I am a vampire. Now, do you know what that is?"
"I've read about them in books of fiction, but I never thought they were real. Oh, and by the way, thank you for asking me instead of reading me."
"I will only read your mind if absolutely necessary. Oh, and I cannot blame you for doubting our existence. Even when there were millions of us, most humans were blind. And no human believes in vampires anymore."
"But why not? And why are you not feeding off of me now? Why eat bags of animal blood?"
"Humans do not believe in vampires because they are ignorant. There is another reason, but one I cannot tell you until you hear my story. Also, my reason for not feeding off of humanity is because I feel for it. I have a soul."
I looked at her in astonishment.
"Yes, you thought right. Vampires don't have souls. Out of life's entire existence, there have only been three exceptions to the rules, one being myself. Now, I can't help but sense your confusion. You see, I am an exception to nearly every aspect to a vampire. I also am a witch, a mind reader, and a prophet. However, I only can see the future in my dreams. That is why I no longer sleep."
I had no doubt that I was meant to hear this woman (that's right, woman, not girl) tell me her story. She was my world. One I was dying to see and explore.
"Would you like me to begin?"
I nodded, and took out my very old fashioned tape recorder. I thought this would make her smile. She didn't smile physically, but it did slightly amuse her. I saw a bright twinkle in her eyes. But it only lasted for a second.
"Sorry, but this is nothing like the movie Interview With the Vampire. You shall run out of tape before a quarter of my story is complete."
"Well, then I shall have to record the story in my mind, won't I?"
"Yes, yes I suppose you will. Now, before I begin, I need to ask you this, and answer honestly. Can you handle what I'm about to tell you?"
I nodded 'yes' to her, even though in my heart I secretly doubted I could. But thankfully, she took my word for it and didn't read me. Instead, she took a photograph out of her pocket. It was blank. She didn't tell me why she was taking out a blank photo. All I saw was her kiss it softly and then it disappeared forever.
She took a deep breath, even though she had no need to breath, and began to tell me a story that would change my outlook on liberty, life, happiness, and love for all eternity.
The rest of my story (other then the last chapter) will be through the point of view of Rebecca. Now, I can almost guarantee you that you will not hear more from this story until the summertime. I wanted to post the very beginning to see how people responded to it. I will re post it when I am ready to update it on a regular basis. Please read it and review. I am very open to feedback and constructive criticism. However, I have absolutely NO tolerance for "flames," as you call them. I believe writing a flame review is one of the most disgusting and hypocritical things a reader can possibly do. There's a difference between pointing out mistakes and areas that need improvement, rather then just telling a person their story is terrible (or that it sucks, or that you hate it).
Anyone who reads this, understand that flames can discourage authors and result in them never writing again. Be careful with what you say, because as an author, I know I take reviews seriously. And I AM SERIOUS about what I just said.