This story is supposed to take place in the first season, just told from a different point of view and twisted and turned a little bit. I'm trying out this site. This is my first story. Enjoy.
Bill Compton.
It's been one hundred and thirty seven years since I've died, and I'm still standing here, above hell and being watched from the skies above. I walk on this ground, a monster in human form. I have not felt since the death of my maker, and I have not cared since the day I had died.
And I here I stand, wiping blood from the dead skin on my chin, a hallow, forced sense of remorse to make me feel human tries to coat my feelings of nothing, and temptation to drain yet another person. Her blood was quite delicious. Sweeter than most, but her small body hardly held enough of the drink to fill up half my stomach. I threw her body in the Mississippi river, her body soon to reach out to the Gulf of Mexico in a matter of days.
In a matter of hours, I was at my destination. My steps were paced….slow…I never necessarily anticipated seeing…her. I walked in, realizing I became more and more anxious as I took each step, suspense rising. I wanted to run, hide…maybe be in the grave in which I belonged, but instead I kept walking. I arrived at the door, two men standing on both sides of me with black suits and suits that fit around their large bodies a bit to tight. One looked at me, I nodded with a grin…which looked like more of a grimace. I turned the handle…if I had been alive, my heart would have been racing. The room was bright, the contrast of the dark night on the shining lights inside made me squint. My foot steps echoed off the white, sparkling marble below me. I passed a few more men that looked more like professional wrestlers than guards. And then I arrived the main room. A large pool sat in front of me, and the scene was guised as the outdoors.
"Why, Hello Bill!" Her voice rang out, cheery, sweet…sickening.
"Uh…Hello…my Queen." I said bluntly, staring at the floor, trying to hide the pained look on my face.
Sophie-Ann LeClerq, the Queen of the Vampires, stood in front of me, hands rubbing the leg of one of her foreign men, who was bleeding from two holes in his neck. He was naked, beside the towel that covered his parts, but didn't hide his massive erection. She stood up, her golden hair flowing, and she wiped the blood off her pale white skin. She is an extremely attractive woman, but …to be blunt…she scares the shit out of me.
"You're a bit late…We're you having sex?" She asked, a British accent complemented her annoying sarcasm.
"Of course not…" I started, hoping that she wouldn't start with her perverted talk already.
She cut me off. "Oh Bill, don't be silly, you know I'm joking…But you can always tell me when you are having sex of course, I'm always willing to join." She chuckled, licking the rest of the blood lying on the man's neck. "Thank you, Juan, you may go." The Spanish man stood up without question, towel dropping as he went, and I looked to the side, avoiding gazing at his foreign peniso. The queen stood up, walking toward me. She stopped, standing within inches of my face.
"Bill, my dear. Would you like to take a dip in the pool…or would you like to strip now, fuck and get it over with?" She said, looking at the pool, and lowering the top of her white bathrobe slowly. She smiled. I did not.
"Is there a reason you called me here, my Queen?" I asked, trying to get this over with.
"Always so boring Bill, just because you're dead doesn't mean you don't have to live anymore." She said, turning her back to me. "I have a task for you."
"And what would that be?" I asked, glad that her intentions were not of sex.
She chuckled. "Oh, it's absolutely brilliant. There's been a rumor, and I'm requesting you confirm this." She came closer to me, lips grazing my ear. My eyes widened.
